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)
I won’t let my father ruin this cookout by thinking about him.
So I simply watched Dima and Rose dance which was the best distraction I could have ever asked for.
Does she know that he will not sit down until Michael Jackson is over?
And just like that, Dima swiftly turned on the balls of his feet, doing his very bad imitation of Michael Jackson's signature spin.
Shock covered Rose’s face.
I snickered.
Dima grabbed Rose’s hand and spun her hand superfast.
She shrieked.
While Dima was no professional dancer, his sheer enthusiasm more than compensated for his lack of skills. He let go of Rose’s hand, did several sways of his hips, snapped his fingers three times, and attempted by far the worst moonwalk that I’d ever seen in my entire life.
I grinned.
Still, can’t do it?
Rose doubled over with laughter.
I didn’t know why, but Barbara Whiskers watched him the way a regular cat would stare at a dangling line of yarn. Those eyes were wide and head alert while her tail swished back and forth. I wasn’t sure if the cat was confused or captivated.
DJ Hendrix transitioned into Shape of You by Ed Sheeran and Dima immediately turned to the DJ and glared at him in disgust.
Uh oh.
I quirked my brows.
Dima signaled for his men.
“No!” Rose chuckled. “Leave the DJ alone!”
I deepened my grin so much that my cheeks hurt.
God, I forgot how much fun Dima is. We need to hang out more.
Moni nudged me with her elbow. “Are you having a good time, baby?”
Grinning even more than humanly possible, I turned to her and my heart swelled. “I’m having the best time. Ever.”
“Good.”
“Maybe, we will do another cookout.”
She shrieked, “I don’t know about that, Lei.”
“This is fun. Like. . .really fucking fun.” I checked Dima again and it looked like somehow Rose had gotten him to sit down.
Granted, he still appeared very fucking pissed and his men continued to walk over to DJ Hendrix and have a very serious conversation.
“Yeah.” I turned back to Moni. “This is fun. I never. . .”
Moni raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“I never have fun like this.”
“No cookouts?”
“None. We do feasts, but like the formal stuff.”
“Like the one at the hotel in Glory?”
I thought back to that first night when I’d seen Moni all done up in that beautiful blue gown.
Lust hummed through me.
“Yes. Like the feast at the hotel or even on Mount Utopia.” I gestured to everyone partying around us. “But this is different.”
“It is.”
“I want to do more things like this.”
“Well. . .” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Lucky for you, I am all about celebrating when times are good. We just have to make sure that Jo doesn’t get everyone high again.”
“That might have been the best part.” I checked Jo.
She was still licking Chef Foo’s signature barbecue off her fingers.
With a big sigh, she leaned back in her chair and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She caught me watching her and spoke, “Banks is about to lose bad. There’s no way he’s beating these dishes.”
Moni shrugged. “You never know. Banks can throw down.”
Jo popped another piece of cuttlefish into her mouth. “Listen. I’m about to get me a sexy Chinese girl who can cook like this.”
Moni frowned and looked at her sister. “You can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s fetishizing a race—”
Jo cut her off with a laugh. “And I’m about to fetish the hell out of her if she can make even one of these dishes. Fetish her all night long.”
Moni shook her head. “I’m done with you.”
Jo turned her gaze to me. “You know any single chicks here in the East that can cook, but also like chicks?”
“I do.” I thought about my harem. “In fact, a large group of them are out of a job and might be eager—”
“Eh.” Moni hit my side. “Don’t even think about it.”
Maybe, I am too high.
DJ Hendrix put on Michael Jackson’s Pretty Young Thing, which told me that Dima’s men had finished their conversation with him.
I checked Dima.
He wore a satisfied smirk while Rose frowned at him.
DJ Hendrix roared over the song, “Now who’s ready for our next contestant?”
The crowd roared.
“I just had that duck from Chef Foo, Banks.” DJ Hendrix pointed at him. “I don’t know, man. You know I rock with you, but that duck was doing what duck do.”
Banks munched on Chef Foo’s crispy pork. “His food wasn’t bad! Just need a little bit more soul!”
“Soul my ass!” Jo loudly snorted.
“Alright! Alright!” DJ Hendrix lowered Michael Jackson a little bit. “Everyone get back in your seats because it is time for Banks to shine. I have personally ate many of his masterpieces so I know that the competition isn’t over yet.”
“That’s right!” Banks put his plate down, wiped his hands on his apron and put these dark shades over his eyes. “Chef Foo was good but let me show you all what soul food tastes like at a cookout!”