Page 108 of Verses

“Yeah. I make it every time I get my hands on some Pueblo chilies.”

Wolf, on the other side of the kitchen, asked, “Did you get them at the Safeway in Silver City last summer?”

“No, but Pedro’s grandma might have. Whenever she buys some, she slips me a pound or two, and then I make chili for her.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to date my grandma, dude,” Pedro said, dipping a cracker in the hummus I’d brought.

Adrian ignored his comment.

So Pedro seemed to shift gears. “How much do you have left?”

“Of what?”

“Chilies.”

“I don’t know. They’re in the freezer.”

We didn’t realize until the punchline that he’d been setting Adrian up for another joke. “I can’t wait. This dude puts the chilies in every fucking thing you can think of. Chili omelets. Chili pies. Chili and pumpkin soup. I’m just waiting for chili cookies.”

“I’ll make some just for you.”

I said, “I’ll try one.”

Adrian grinned again. “Deal.”

“So do youliketo cook?”

“Yeah. I think I do. It’s kinda…therapeutic.”

It hadn’t escaped my attention that my ex hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten here. And even thoughIknew the answer, I prompted him to join the conversation. “Tell us what you brought, Kyle.”

“I just got off work a while ago, guys, so don’t think this is lame. I brought a big bag of chicken nuggets and a bunch of sauces. Do you care if I use your microwave?” he asked Wolf.

“Go ahead. It’s here over the stove—but we can throw them in the oven if you want. I’m toasting garlic bread in there already.”

Kyle nodded and Wolf showed him where the baking sheets were.

Soon, we started filling up plates and bowls and carrying them to the dining room. When Pedro tasted Adrian’s chili, he said, “Dude, that batch is the best shit you ever made.”

“Thanks.”

“Guys, when we become famous, we got to either get Adrian some classes so he can cook with more than just chilies—or we’ll have to hire somebody…‘cause this is the saddest potluck I have ever seen.”

I said, “I think it’s actually pretty good. We have a nice variety—”

“I waskidding, Hayl. Take a chill pill, girl.”

Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes.Of course,he’d been kidding. Rarely had I seen the guy serious. But I wasn’t going to say another word about the subject, even though I was impressed with what we’d cobbled together, a group of people great at making music, not so great at cooking. Well…Adrian and Wolf were a few steps ahead of the rest of us.

Kyle said, “We ready to sit down and eat?”

“One more second,” Wolf said. By the stove on the other side of the kitchen, he lifted the lid to a large crock pot. “I’ve been brewing some hot apple cider all day.” He got mugs out of the cupboard and ladled us each one. Pedro picked them up off thecounter and passed them out. When he handed one to me, I held it up to my face and took a deep whiff. The intermingling of sweet apple and spices warmed my nose and my heart.

As I looked at my four band members, my face spread in a large smile. We were getting along, having decided to do something with each other outside of band practice, something we hadn’t done since drug addiction had taken one of our own.

And I realized something. These four men here…they were my family. Myrealfamily.

As if he had read my mind, Kyle held up his mug and said, “Here’s to us.”

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