Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. They had all the classic flavoring of the dish, it was just the textures that were different, which I tried to ignore, because if I thought about it too much, I started to gag. There was one bowl that said it had faux chicken in it that was a brown square in a pile of rice and gravy. That was the hardest bowl for me to swallow because what kind of “chicken” is a perfect little square? Fuck was it nasty, but like a good girl, I swallowed it down and held back the shiver that wanted to overtake my body from the “chicken” burp that followed. Needless to say, “chicken” gumbo didn’t win.

Once the winner was crowned, a very excited lady wearing a peasant skirt and a tank top with no bra—it was obvious—Jett helped me out of my seat, shook hands with the judges, and then led me out to the festival. Job one, get some real gumbo to help me forget the brown chunk I had to take down.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, as he guided me flawlessly through the crowd.

“I did, but can we just discuss that chicken bowl?”

“I’d rather not. I think I’ll have some indigestion problems from that bowl for a while.”

“Thank you!” I said relieved, glad I wasn’t the only one who had a problem with it. “I don’t care what you say, you can’t pass tofu off as chicken. There is something just so wrong about that. If you’re going vegan, then own up to it.”

“Yeah, bad move on that person’s part. Although, it looked like the mayor rather enjoyed that bowl.”

“The mayor liked every bowl.”

“True,” Jett laughed. “So, what’s your pleasure? You have your pick of any gumbo dish out there. What can I get you?”

“Chicken and sausage, I need the classic stuff right now,” I requested.

“Right this way,” Jett said, as he took me to a small station off to the side where a large black woman stood over a pot of gumbo, stirring it with a giant spoon. Her form reminded me of someone I knew, but I couldn’t quite place her until she turned around.

Miss Mary, the she-devil herself stood in front of me with her wooden spoon in one hand and a towel in the other. Flashbacks of her ruler smacking my arm rest during “reform school” flashed through my mind and I winced as she moved toward us. The lady still scared the ever living fuck out of me.

“Why, if it isn’t it Miss Lo and Mr. Colby. How lovely to see you both.” The smile on her face seemed absolutely genuine, but I didn’t trust it for a minute. I knew what she was capable of, so I kept my distance.

“Miss Mary, so glad we were able to find you in this crowd of people. My girl here is looking for the perfect bowl of gumbo, think you can help us out with that?”

“Always a charmer,” she winked at Jett as she grabbed two bowls and dished us both a heaping scoop of gumbo. Steam rose off of the bowls as she handed them over to us with spoons.

Jett reached into his back pocket to pay for our food, but Miss Mary held up her hand and shook him off.

“Your money is no good here, son. Just enjoy.”

It wasn’t like Jett couldn’t afford the gumbo, the man was dripping in cash, but he knew when to step down. Miss Mary wasn’t one to mess with.

Jett held the bowl up to Miss Mary and gave her that devilish grin of his. “Thank you, Miss Mary. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she winked again and then went back to stirring her pot, leaving us both alone.

The interaction with Miss Mary almost made her seem human, not like a ruler-wielding, crazy eyed, manner police.

As we walked to a bench in the back of the park, I asked, “Do you and Miss Mary have a close relationship?”

“You could say that,” Jett said, as he stared down at his bowl of gumbo.

“Want to tell me about it?”

This was a test; if he was serious about making something happen between us, of having a relationship, then it was time for him to open up. It was time to bring some substance to this uncontrollable force that was bringing us together.

Clearing his throat, Jett leaned back on the bench and said, “Miss Mary was my nanny growing up. She took care of me when my dad was taking care of his businesses; she’s the one who raised me and she was the one who made sure I still saw my mom, despite my father’s demands.”

Right then and there, I felt like my mind was blown. I didn’t know much about Jett’s mom, except for the fact that she died from AIDS, but I never would have thought Miss Mary raised him. They didn’t seem that close; maybe they kept a more distant relationship.

“By your silence, I’m assuming that’s not what you were expecting to hear.”

“It wasn’t,” I admitted. “I just thought she worked with you occasionally. I never thought she could have been your nanny. What was she like back then? Was she mean? Did she threaten you with a ruler too?”

Chuckling, Jett shook his head as he spooned some of the gumbo in his mouth. Once he swallowed, he said, “She was strict, really strict, but she was kind and caring as well. She made sure I did everything that was demanded by my dad, and then made sure I had fun by letting me hang out with Kace and do things my father wouldn’t normally let me do, like visit my mom.”

“Why wouldn’t he let you visit her?” I asked, as I put a spoonful of gumbo in my mouth. “Holy shit, this is good,” I stated with a full mouth.

“I told you it was good.”

“You would never guess by the way she’s so aggressive with that damn ruler; you would think she practices her intimidation skills day in and day out, but that broad can cook.”

“That she can.”

“So, are you going to tell me about your visits to your mom?”

Jett looked up from his bowl and shook his head no. “Let me save that story for a more intimate setting. Is that okay with you?”

Sincerity rang through his voice. It was hard not to agree with him when he spoke straight from his heart.

“Of course,” I agreed, not wanting to make the man open himself up in a public place. “So, tell me, did you get a lot of this kind of cooking growing up?”

“I did. Miss Mary was all about Southern cooking, but only when my dad was away on business trips. When he was home, we had to eat salads and basic meals that were approved by my dad. I looked forward to him going on business trips, not just because of the good food that came my way, but because I couldn’t stand the man, and when he was gone, it was like I could breathe in my own home.”

“Was he really that hard on you?” I asked, as I finished up my bowl.

“He was,” Jett nodded. “I had everything I ever wanted when it came to my dad, except for a childhood. I would spend hours in his office, listening to how he conducted deals. He would show me the ins and outs of his business, educating me constantly into becoming a tycoon. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t turn into the cutthroat man he wanted me to be. Instead, I went in the opposite direction, making him madder than I ever could have expected.”

“That must have been hard,” I said, as I placed my hand on Jett’s.

“Not really, it was the best decision I ever made, freeing myself from his pressing grasp. It took me a little bit of time to get settled, to land on my feet, but once I did, I took off and never looked back.”

“Is that why you’re so…jaded at times?” I asked, wanting to know why he was always so closed off.

“It’s a combination of things, but my dad is a big factor.” Taking my bowl, Jett stood up and said, “It’s getting late, shall we get back to your place? I would like to talk to Diego before we call it a night.”

“You’re not going to lecture him, are you?” I asked, while I followed behind Jett just as he tossed our empty bowls in a nearby garbage can.

“No, on the contrary, I owe the man an apology.”

“An apology?” I asked, as I stopped in my tracks. “For what?”

“Nothing that is of your concern,” Jett replied, while he grabbed my hand and tried to walk me toward his car.