Page 197 of Sweet Dominion

“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!"

“Hey, it’s the East.” Another of my men shook his head. “Chef Foo has to win. We can’t give a trophy to anyone from the South.”

“But it has to be fair.”

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