Page 194 of Sweet Dominion

And. . .it just made me happy to know I would be a part of their family too.

On the stage, Banks let out a long sigh. “I know you all want to eat but let me get some of this out.”

Aunt Betty yelled, “Take your time, baby!”

Jo muttered, “Well, don’t taketoomuch time. Like damn. You danced. You talked about colonization. Like—”

Moni shushed her.

Banks scratched his head and then put his view on the spades table where his mother, Marcelo, Gunner, and others were at. “Once, I was in the house with Marcelo and we were about to head out to help our boy Tiny, who wasn’t so tiny, butanyway. . .Tiny wanted to get revenge on some dude who kissed his girl. Mom wasn’t home, so we were like let’s do this.”

I watched Marcelo.

He lit a cigar and blew out smoke.

Banks continued, “I had a hammer and a knife, ready to go. Marcelo had this large butcher knife. Then the phone rings and it’s Big Mama. She says, ‘The good Lord told me to grab you today. Come shell these pecans and bring that bad-ass Marcelo with you. We’re going to make some pecan pies for the church.’ I tried to get out of it, but she said she was going to whip our asses, if we didn’t show up. And if anyone knew my Big Mama, it didn’t matter what age and size you are. . .that hand was no joke. Marcelo was more scared than me.”

The crowd laughed, but I caught the shift in Banks’ tone, the weight of what was coming next.

Banks looked down at the stage for a moment. “Tiny. . .well, Tiny died that day.”

A couple people gasped.

Moni gave no response telling me she not only knew the story, but had probably grew up with Tiny too.

“Tiny went to fight, but those guys didn’t have hammers. They had guns.” Banks shook his head. “And I’ve always wondered. . .what if I’d told Tiny to come with me and Marcelo to Big Mama’s instead. Would he be alive too?”

I glanced over at Marcelo, whose face had hardened. Even with the smoke rising in front of him, his eyes looked glassy like he was holding back tears.

Banks took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m dedicating these dishes to my Big Mama. She taught me everything I know, from snap peas to black-eyed peas.”

Aunt Betty yelled, “Talk that shit!”

“She taught me how to make mac and cheese so good it melts in your soul, how to make the toughest meat fall off the bone,and how to put together a plate of food that’ll make you forget you’re at a wake, grieving for someone you lost.”

“That’s right, baby!” Aunt Betty yelled some more.

One by one, the staff placed Banks’s plates in front of us.

Immediately, I could tell Banks’ approach was different from Chef Foo’s. Where Foo’s dishes had been meticulously arranged, almost like art, Banks’ food looked like it came straight from a mom-and-pop joint—hearty, messy, and undeniably inviting.

Wow.

The aroma hit me hard, making my stomach growl to the point that it hurt.

I rubbed it.

Banks gestured to the first dish. “This here is called my ‘Kick-You-in-the-Stomach-and-Make-You-Call-Off-Work Bourbon’ Chicken, served with sides of collard greens and mac and cheese because you can’t have a cookout without those sides.”

Hmmm.

I cut into the chicken, tried some, and the flavor practically exploded in my mouth. The bourbon glaze was sweet and smoky, with just the right amount of spice.

The collard greens were perfectly seasoned, and the mac and cheese was so rich and creamy, it felt like it could melt right down to my bones.

Oh shit. Banks can really cook.

I glanced at Dima who was watching me with the same disbelief.

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