She didn’t say nothin’ after that. She stared at me for a second, shook her head like she couldn’t believe it, then turned around and walked off without another word.
Renza clapped his hands together. “A’ight y’all. Time’s up. If you ain’t standin’ in that line, go ahead and grab your bags.”
Tamara huffed and walked off without another word. Aubrii tried to smile it off. Kalea looked like she might cry but didn’t, and Brittany shrugged and strutted like she was still the baddest, even walkin’ out.
The others stayed posted beside me, glancin’ at each other, tryin’ to figure out what came next.
I took another hit of my blunt and sipped my coffee.
“Who want breakfast?”
Trill-Land, Jungle Estate
“So check it…” I said, takin’ a sip of my coffee and lookin’ around at the women like I was seein’ them for the first time. “Ain’t no chef comin’ in this mornin’. If y’all wanna impress me, show me what you workin’ with in the kitchen.”
A few of the girls blinked like they ain’t hear me right.
“I’m serious,” I said, settin’ my mug down on the marble tray next to me. “If you think you fit to be my woman, you should at least know how to fry an egg or flip a pancake. Breakfast on y’all this mornin’. Let’s see who can cook, and who just came here to look good and eat free.”
Toni Roc clapped her hands together like she’d been waitin’ on this exact moment. “Oop! Say less! I been tryna get in that kitchen since I stepped foot in this muthafucka.”
Taffy Royale was right behind her, already kickin’ off her slippers. “Baby, I was born ready. Let me tie this scarf tighter so I don’t drop hair in the food.”
While some of the girls made their way toward the kitchen, others started movin’ dishes and fixin’ the table like they ain’t wanna risk messin’ up the meal but still wanted to be seen helpin’.
Pluto ain’t say much, but I noticed her slide out toward the back patio. A few minutes later, she came back in holdin’ a handful of wildflowers—pale orange, white, and somethin’ close to lavender. She spotted this empty vase sittin’ behind the glass cabinet near the dinin’ room, cleaned it out, filled it with water, and started arrangin’ the flowers without sayin’ a word. She wasn’t tryna show off… but she stood out anyway.
The kitchen turned into organized chaos. Pots clangin’, bacon poppin’ and toast flyin’ out the silver double toaster. I saw Toni flippin’ pancakes with no spatula, just flippin’ the whole pan with a flick of her wrist. Taffy had three skillets goin’ at once like she was runnin’ a food truck.
By the time breakfast was ready, the table was set and the whole estate smelled like home—sweet, savory, and loud with pride.
The spread was insane: buttermilk pancakes stacked with butter slidin’ down the sides, thick-cut bacon crispy like it came out a smoker, cheddar cheese eggs, seasoned to perfection, hash browns browned just right on the edges, smoked sausage, turkey sausage, cinnamon toast, creamy grits with cheese melted on top, and a tray of fried catfish for the ones that liked it Southern. There was orange juice, pineapple juice, and chilled champagneon ice like it was a brunch party at somebody’s rich auntie’s house in the hills.
I ain’t gon’ lie… I was actually startin’ to like this shit.
Once everybody was seated, Toni Roc came out from the kitchen carryin’ plates like she was runnin’ the floor at a soul food spot. She slid mine down in front of me and winked. “Here you go, baby. Hope you ain’t too bougie for some home-cooked food.”
I looked down at the plate, then back up at her, smirkin’. “I don’t eat nobody’s cookin’ but my mama’s and my chef’s… but I’mma see what it’s hittin’ for.”
A few of the girls laughed, and Toni waved her hand. “Boy, bye. You ‘bout to clean that plate.”
I picked up my fork, took a bite of the grits first. They was creamy, cheesy, and seasoned just right. The catfish had the perfect crunch, and the eggs was fluffy like they’d been made with heavy cream. I took my time with the food, leanin’ back in my chair, lettin’ the flavors settle in my mouth like I was really tryna taste who belonged here and who didn’t.
“A’ight… who cooked what?” I asked, glancin’ around.
Lola Reign, a pretty light skinned chick with full lips nodded toward Toni. “She did most of it. Taffy helped too, but Toni was in her zone.”
I raised an eyebrow. “This you, Toni?”
She grinned, tossin’ her towel over her shoulder. “Every bit of it.”
I nodded slow. “You got a real hand in the kitchen.”
Toni sat back in her chair and shrugged. “I used to cook for people all the time. I used to work with this service that sent us to different families’ homes. Most of the people I cooked for had loved ones on hospice. Sometimes the clients was the ones sick, sometimes it was their mama or their spouse, and they just didn’t have the strength to be dealin’ with meals on top ofeverything else. I used to pull up early, cook a big breakfast, sometimes lunch too. People go through a lot when somebody they love is dyin’. You’d be surprised how much comfort a hot plate can bring when everything else feel like it’s fallin’ apart.”
Toni’s words hit me.
She ain’t say it like she was tryna be deep or emotional. It just… came out real as if she was tellin’ the truth without tryin’ to tug at anybody’s heart. She said it like somebody who’d seen pain, but never let it stop her from showin’ up for people.
