Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
A few in the crowd clapped.
“I kept the oxtails last because. . .uh. . .” Banks turned to Moni. “Cause you know. . .the dish came out of motherfuckers being evil, but still everything worked out. And that’s how I see this cookout. Because. . .”
Banks put his view on me. “It looks like whether we’re all down for this new. . .relationship or not, the South and the East may be spending more time together than we thought we would.”
I swallowed.
“So. . .let’s hope that shit is just as tasty and successful as these oxtails and this fucking dope ass cookout too.” Banks winked at me, dropped the microphone like some rock star and then strutted off the stage.
Moni leaned my way. “That’s his way of saying sorry.”
DJ Hendrix put on Hot Barbecue again.
The music blared and the crowd cheered louder as Banks sauntered over to Chef Foo.
And to my surprise, Chef Foo handed him a beer and they began laughing and talking like two best friends.
DJ Hendrix spoke over the song, “Alright, judges. Paper and pen is being handed out to all of you. Remember. Only one name can be written on that paper. Foo or Banks. That’s it.”
Aunt Suzi pouted, “This is so unfair!”
Chloe bobbed her head. “I think they both won.”
I dug into the oxtails and my mind was blown. Once again, the meat was tender, flavorful and rich.
Enjoying the hell out of the food, I checked on Barbara Whiskers and sure enough, she was tearing into her plate with an intensity I hadn’t seen in a cat before.
She’d practically demolished her oxtails.
Who will win?
Looking across the table, I saw Dima and Rose chuckling and sharing a private joke as they savored their food.
Moni nudged me gently. “What do you think, baby?”
I leaned back, staring at the remnants of Banks’ dishes, then at Moni’s satisfied face. “Honestly, this isn’t fair. They’re both incredible, in different ways. I agree with my aunt and Chloe, I think they should both win.”
Moni laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Jo shook her head. “Naw. There can only be one.”
I grinned. “We can’t make it a tie?”
“Naw. That’s sucker shit, bro.” Jo ashed her joint. “We have to dig deep and pick the winner, even if it’s hard.”
DJ Hendrix went on a whole Michael Jackson jam session, playing various songs by the legend.
Dima really scared him good.
DJ Hendrix seamlessly transitioned from the haunting Thriller to the upbeat, infectious rhythms of Bad.
The smell of the oxtails still hung heavily in the air.
The staff began cleaning up our dishes, while other waiters brought out pieces of paper and pens.
“Fuck.” Moni looked at me. “They both cooked their hearts out. We have to say it’s a tie.”
“I must admit that they did.”
Jo jumped in, “There's no such thing as two winners in a competition. That's not how it works.”
“Alright, Jo.” Moni frowned and picked up her pen. “Damn.”
As the music played, I could hear some of the crowd engaging in heated discussions over who should win.
Some argued that Chef Foo's dishes were more creative and refined while others said that Banks' food had soul and authenticity that couldn’t be beaten.
Shit.
I looked down at my paper and wondered which name I would write.
DJ Hendrix's voice echoed over the speakers. “Alright judges, times almost up!”
Shit.
I went ahead, scribbled down who I thought should win and then I folded it.
Moni wrote hers down and folded her paper too. “Who did you vote for?”
I winked at her. “I’m not telling.”
“Oh, that’s fucked up.”
A waitress came by with a hat and we all dropped our votes in there.
Moni looked up at the second level of Lotus Blossom. “I hope TT is still enjoying herself.”
Jo chuckled. “TT is living out her dream. She’s about to solve that damn map or whatever. Watch.”
“Did they take up plates to her?”
“I saw Aunt Min making plates and giving it to someone and then pointing towards her room.”
“Okay. Cool.” Moni sighed.
DJ Hendrix turned off the music. “Alright, guys. It’s time to announce the winner. Who is going to get that big trophy tonight?”
Chapter thirty-six
High on Love
Lei
The aromas of charred meat and smoky spices filled the air.
I ended up getting a second plate of Banks’s ribs and Chef Foo’s crispy pork.
Fuck. They’re both really good at cooking.
The food was so exceptional that it sparked intense debates among the guests. Everyone became a food critic, pointing out the subtle smokiness of the Bourbon chicken or the perfect char on Chef Foo’s vegetables.
Arguments broke out over which dish deserved the crown, with people passionately defending their favorites. I almost worried that physical fights would happen among some of Rowe Street Mob debating with Four Aces.
Thankfully, no one took it there.
One of my men yelled to another, "Did you try those ribs?! They're a masterpiece, surely Banks should win!"