Minutes later, a staff member hurried up to the stage and set up the microphone.
Then finally DJ Hendrix began to lower the music and the crowd quieted as Chef Foo stepped forward, exuding a calm confidence that only a seasoned chef could.
“Okay now!” Moni clapped her hands. “Go Chef! Go Chef!”
“Eh, cousin! What the hell?!” Banks yelled from his grill, but there was no anger on his face. In fact, amusement blazed in his eyes. “I know you’re not rooting for my competition. That’s how it is?”
“That’smychef!” Smiling, she shrugged. “I have to show respect.”
Banks pointed to her. “Don’t you forget your blood out here in the East!”
“Boy, bye!” Moni laughed and clapped her hands some more. “Come on, Chef Foo, for the win!”
Banks snorted, but that grin never left his face.
Chef Foo smiled warmly at the audience and took the microphone in hand. “Thank you, Mountain Mistress.”
“Don’t call little Moni that!” Aunt Betty waved her hand. “The girl head was always big! We don’t need it to get any bigger!”
Some of Rowe Street Mob as well as Aunt Betty’s friends laughed.
Jo snickered. “I see Aunt Betty on that Yak now.”
I quirked my brows. “Yak?”
Moni whispered, “Cognac.”
“Aww. I see.” I checked Aunt Betty and she lifted a glass full of brown liquor.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Chef Foo’s voice rang out smoothly, “thank you for including me in this competition—”
“But are you single?!” Aunt Betty yelled. “Asking for a friend?”
And with that one of her friends, blushed and tried to hide behind another.
“Oh my God.” Moni shook her head. “This is about to be a hot mess.”
“Shiiiitt, I need a microphone.” Aunt Betty high-fived Gunner who was also drinking a large glass full of brown liquor. “Motherfuckers need to be writing me a check for my performance.”
DJ Hendrix got on the microphone. “Alright, everyone. We’re hungry, so let’s show some respect and keep it down.”
Aunt Betty laughed but said nothing else.
Moni whispered to me. “No more cookouts.”
On the stage, Chef Foo spoke. “Today, I have the honor of sharing with you three dishes that represent the rich history and flavors of Chinese barbecue.”
My stomach growled.
Chef Foo looked off into the crowd. “Many have no idea how central barbecue is to Chinese cuisine. It's not the briskets and pulled pork many are used to in the States, but something deeply rooted in the culture—an experience more than a meal.”
Moni leaned Jo’s way. “He’s going to be cooking for us now. Can you believe that? We have a chef.”
“Listen,” Jo held up her hands to high-five Moni. “Your hoeing knows no boundaries.”
Moni didn’t high-five her. “Keep saying that, me and you are going to fight tonight.”
Jo laughed.