I didn’t say anything else after that. I went over to the chair that was out here and sat down. We were still at the truck stop, but we were ducked off, kind of chilling in our own little area. We were near the edge of the lot, where it wasn’t much over here but grass and trees. It felt private. Kind of like we were outside in our backyard, getting ready to put food on the grill.
Gemini disappeared into the truck. He came back out, holding bags in his hands. He sat the bags down on a table that he set up out here. Just the way he moved around and was able to work with everything that he had, you could tell that these were things that he was used to doing. This wasn’t for show. He wasn’t choosing to switch up simply because I was here. I’m sure on his days off, he would work out and cook like this all the time.
Gemini made multiple trips into the truck, and back outside. By the time he finished, he had his own little section going on,transforming that area into his kitchen workplace. I watched as he set up the portable Blackstone griddle. The paper towels. Seasonings. Cooking utensils. Cutting board. He even placed a big bottle of hand sanitizer on the table. He knew what he was doing. He was very organized too.
He left one more time, disappearing into the truck, and when he came back out, he was wearing a black apron. Seeing him in that apron, I had to pick my right leg up and cross it over the left. Seeing him in that apron, getting ready to throw down on dinner was attractive as hell. Something that I wasn’t used to.
I wasn’t used to it because Jacob didn’t cook. Jacob was the takeout king. In our home, if I didn’t cook, then he would order. Jacob couldn’t fry a damn egg, so to sit here, and to watch this man come out with an apron wrapped around him, as he went for the pack of chicken breast first, pulling it out, I could have started drooling.
God, then he took that cooking towel, draped it over his shoulder, and he went on, separating the chicken, shrimp, and steak from each other, putting them in pans of their own. When I saw the way he started seasoning everything, I knew right there that again, this wasn’t for show. He knew what he was doing.
“I don’t know how to just sit down and let someone cook for me. I feel like I have to do something. You don’t need me to do anything?” I asked, standing up from the chair, so that I could pick it up, and move it closer to him.
When I asked that, it caused him to smile. Those beautiful white teeth, with the gold fangs came into view. Those dimples. Everything was perfect.
“Go look in the fridge and bring me out that pan of rice. I’m going to need it. After that, just sit down Amina. Remember what I just told you. Enjoy the perks,” he said, going back to that again.
I stepped into the truck, going for the sleeper area, where the fridge was. I opened it and pulled out the pan of white rice that was inside. Gemini picked this pan of rice up earlier. There was a Chinese restaurant right next door to the Walmart that we went to, and that’s where he purchased the rice. It had been chilling in the refrigerator since this morning. I grabbed it, along with the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that I picked up earlier from Walmart. I was able to juggle two glasses in my hands too.
I brought the items outside, and I sat the tray of rice down on the table, along with the glasses.
“You have a corkscrew? I forgot to pick one up while we were at Walmart,” I stated.
“Yeah. It’s back in the truck. Look in the drawer with the rest of the utensils,” he replied, not looking up from the steak that was in front of him. He was too busy looking down at it, making sure that he was applying the right amount of seasoning.
“You don’t strike me as the type of man that would have a corkscrew lying around. You drink wine, Gemini?” I wanted to know. My question made him laugh.
“I actually do. I don’t know what this shit is that you brought out here though. I’m a Moscato kind of nigga. I like to pour me a glass of Moscato, roll a fat blunt, put on some Anita Baker, and just vibe out,” he stated, and in just one sentence, I learned three new things about him.
I didn’t know he drank wine, didn’t know he smoked weed, and damn sure didn’t know that he listened to Anita Baker. I thought the only kind of music that he listened to were the ones that called women nothing but bitches, and hoes.
“I didn’t know you smoked weed,” I chose to comment on that first.
“Look what I do for a living, love. Damn right I smoke weed. It soothes me. Keeps me calm, and sane. I’m not a junkie when itcomes to that shit though. What? You going to judge me because I smoke?” he asked, looking up at me.
“Nope. I tried it before in college. It wasn’t my thing,” I was honest.
“You probably had some trash ass weed, that’s why,” he said.
Instead of responding, I went back into the truck, so that I could grab the corkscrew. I found it and headed back outside with Gemini. By this time, he had the Blackstone running, he was adding olive oil, and ready to start cooking. Since he didn’t leave me in charge of doing anything, the only job that I had was opening the bottle of wine.
Once it was opened, I poured a glass for myself, and a glass for him. Naturally, he raised his glass, and I raised mine as well. We did a quick clash together with our glasses and sipped. I wanted to see his reaction, especially since he never heard of the brand before. It’s almost like he knew that I was waiting for his reaction because once he finished, he turned to look at me.
“It’s straight,” he said, as he literally reached for the bottle, so that he could pour himself another glass.
“Oh please. You know that’s probably the best wine that you’ve ever had in your life,” I shot, taking a seat down in the chair.
I tucked my legs up under me, while I watched Gemini dump the entire pan of rice onto the grill. He then used a big chunk of butter to place right at the center of the rice. While that started doing its thing, he looked up from the rice, placing his eyes on me. I knew he was getting ready to ask me something. Probably something deep too.
“You miss London yet?” is what he decided to ask.
“I miss things about London. I miss my mom,” I was honest.
“Things like that?” he wanted to know.
“Just everyday things. My favorite coffee shops. Favorite boutiques. Hell, even my job. Just all the things that used tomake me feel normal,” I let him know. It’s almost like he studied me for a little bit before he chose to move forward with the next thing.
“Why London though? Granted, I know that you were only a kid when you moved there, so it wasn’t like it was your decision. Out of all the places in the world that ya’ll could have moved to, why did your mom choose London?” he wanted to know. I wasn’t surprised by his question though. I’ve been asked that same question from so many people over the years.
