Page 43 of Honey's Special Roux

“Oh, no, baby. You will not make that.”

“What? Why not?”

“That’s an advanced dish. We need to start you off small, with maybe some fried chicken wings and fries.”

I laughed. “A’ight, Miss Janie. I’ll try that.”

“Frying chicken wings is easy as long as you’re not afraid of the grease. I’m going to write down your grocery list. You need everything I tell you to get, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was weird to take instructions from such a small and old lady, but she was fierce. Miss Janie could command a gang of men if she wanted to. Everyone respected her, and it would have been in my best interest to remain in her good graces.

* * *

“Man, Miss Janie, I’m gon’ fu—mess this up.”

“Chile, hush up. You’re doing good.”

Miss Janie had been on the phone with me for about an hour as I prepped and prepared the meal. My first batch of wings was too dark. Somehow, I ended up with a burned crust with raw meat inside. I felt like a failure. I was on batch number three and had felt defeated.

“Put your fries on a baking sheet, season them with salt, pepper, and a hint of garlic powder. Back in the oven on 425 for twenty minutes. You’ll flip them and put them back in to bake when your timer hits ten minutes,” Miss Janie explained in a soft tone.

I did as she told me to, spreading each French fry out to cook properly. I sprinkled some salt and pepper on the fries and then lightly added some garlic powder. Once the fries were in the oven, we brought our attention back to the wings.

“Now, let’s work on the sauce you will use to toss the wings in when they are done.” She continued.

We walked through the honey hot wing flavoring recipe. Shit was crazy. I had followed the instructions and made a thick and sticky sauce that actually tasted good. Once the sauce was done, I grabbed the drying rack and placed paper towels underneath the bar to catch the grease that dripped from each piece of chicken.

“Grab a second pan and lay it down with a lining. This is where you’ll place the tossed wings to sit until the fries are done.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Twenty-three minutes later, I had made both plates and sent the final picture to Miss Janie. As I looked at my final product, a sense of pride washed over me.

“You did great, chile.”

“Thank you so much. I hope Honey likes it.”

“I know she will. Enjoy your night, and try not to make me a great grandmother tonight.”

I grinned widely. “Can’t make any promises, Miss Janie, but if we do, you know that baby gon’ be straight.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She hung up the phone, and I went to take a quick shower. After the shower, I put on Honey’s favorite cologne of mine and pulled on some black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt. I put on some socks but opted not to wear any shoes.

I was the type of person who would watch his lady’s location to know the exact time she would arrive. Tonight was no different. I looked at the circle with her face on it and watched her speed down the highway. Her ass was a speed demon just like me—except she liked to hit curbs in residential areas. She tried to be like me, but those curbs tore her tires up.

“She might want a bath too. Let me go run that for her. She’ll probably want her favorite wine chilled too.”

My girl would be twenty-one in a few months, but I’d been getting her liquor for much longer. She was uppity about her drinks too. She liked mimosas, sparkling wines, and red wines. She wasn’t a fan of bitter white wines. She also loved a good wine cooler and spiked drink. Her favorite were those cans of spiked lemonade. She could drink a whole box of those by herself.

Once the bath was ready and the drinks were chilled, I sat by the door and counted down the seconds until she entered the house. She had me sprung and didn’t give a fuck.

“Marquise, I’m home—oh, hey handsome.” She giggled when her eyes landed on me after she entered the house. I stood up and wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her into a sloppy, wet, nasty kiss. My tongue was deep in her mouth.

“Mmm.” She moaned against my tongue.

---