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After paying the five dollar admission fee, I pulled into the parking lot, parked, and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Once satisfied, I exited and headed out in search of Victor. Everything seemed to be well-planned out, all thanks to his sister Rhonda, who unfortunately, wouldn’t be there, because she had to go out of town on a business trip.
Victor didn’t say so, but I got the feeling he was a little down about it and that made me even more curious about his family dynamics. He doesn’t talk about his parents at all; and the way he talks about her, Rhonda seemed to be more like a mother to him.
Rhonda did this and Rhonda did that.
There’ve been several times that I wanted to ask him about his parents, but after spending years watching my father like a hawk, I understood that when a man doesn’t want to talk about it, leave him alone. He will either come around and tell you or he won’t.
As I got closer to the area, I knew I was in the right place when I was bombarded with the sound of old school music and the heavenly scent of barbecue. There were people talking, drinking, laughing and dancing, and children were running everywhere. I looked around to see if I saw either Victor or Vanessa and Paul, but I didn’t see them. I saw two older ladies sitting in the shade in some lawn chairs. They looked nice, sweet and welcoming, so I thought they’d be the perfect ones to ask where I could find Victor.
“You lost, young lady?” the one with the curly brown wig said. I knew it was a wig because of all of the grey in her eyebrows.
“Well, I hope not,” I smiled. “I’m looking for Victor. Am I at the right location?”
“Well aren’t you the siddity one?” the other one said, with what I’d just noticed, was painted on eyebrows. Then she repeated what I said in a fake British accent. If I hadn’t thought the whole thing was hilarious, I might have even been offended. Then my curly-hair friend interrupted.
“Stop that, Claire. Go that way you’ll find him,” she said, and pointed to a side walkway.
“Thank you, ladies,” I said in my best West Indian accent, and kept it moving.
I followed the walkway and my nose led me to an area near the grill, and that’s where I saw him. Victor was standing by the grill talking to a big, burly guy flipping a rack of ribs. I was as excited to see those ribs as I was to see fine-ass Victor. His Khaki shorts that came to his knees allowed me to see his long, lean calves. They were not too muscular and not too lean. He was in shape for sure, but he reminded me of a ball player.
Perfect.
And as he crossed his arms and nodded his head in conversation, I admired the sinews of his forearms. This man was delicious. As I got nearer, it was as if he sensed me heading his way, because he turned and looked directly at me. His eyes moved from mine and looked at me from head to toe, which made me happy with today’s outfit selection, and then he smiled. I loved his smile and what it did to me each time he graced me with one.
“You came,” he marveled; his eyes moving around my face.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I admitted. Victor’s eyes got intense, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to kiss me, but I hurried to say, “Who can pass up some ribs on a Saturday?”
Victor nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced, because I wasn’t, and I was the one that said it. I couldn’t stay away because I didn’t want to stay away. That opened the conversation up for the grill man, though.
“You like ribs, sweetheart?”
“I sure do, but I don’t get them often. My dad lives in Nassau, and he was the man on the grill all my life.”
That made him chuckle before Victor introduced him. “Natasha, this is my Uncle Willie.”
“Natasha, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, sir.”
“The pleasure is all mine; and it’s Willie or Uncle Willie. No need to get all formal, we family here,” Uncle Willie said, and threw his beefy arm around Victor’s shoulder. “Ain’t that right, Vic?”
“That’s right,” Victor said and looked at me.
Uncle Willie let go of Victor and motioned to me with his finger. “Come here, young lady.” I stepped up to the grill. “Choose what bone you want.”
“What?” Victor cut in.
“Hush, boy.”
I looked at the meat on the grill and leaned closer to him. “I don’t know, Uncle Willie. I don’t know if I can function under all this pressure. I mean, you are obviously a grill master and they all look sooo good.” I thought about putting my hand on my forehead and batting my eyes, but I decided against it and just went with, “I just can’t make up my mind.”
Uncle Willie laughed and lo
oked at Victor. “I like her,” he said and turned to me. “You just take your time, darling.”
“That one.” I pointed.
