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Eva looked up from her plate, directing her attention to Rakell. “I’d like to see it, then,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
Before Dwayne could say a word, Jake stated, “For you, it is NC-30, and your parent has to accompany you. Meaning, you can’t see it.”
“Watch me, Jake.” Eva’s full lips spread over her wide, white smile. That attitude appeared to be a family trait. Dwayne was definitely being revisited by karma through his little sister, Rakell concluded
Eva’s mass of dark ringlets dipped in red bounced around her face as her gaze scooted to Rakell. “Can you get me an invite to the premiere? I’d love to hook up with a movie star.”
Dwayne’s focus instantly lifted from his plate and through a mouth full of food, he stated, “Not a chance, sis.”
Definitively, Eva quipped, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m all grown up.”
Rakell giggled as she heard Dwayne mumble, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Speaking of hot, muscular, tatted guys who should be on the cover of romance books, tell me about your hip ornament. The one that is almost as good as you,” Eva served toward Dwayne, who seemed, briefly, to be at a loss for words.
Rakell said, “Well-played, Eva, almost as good.”
Rakell could see Jake visibly fighting himself not to speak.
“Don’t even think about it. He doesn’t like girls. He’s only into books,” Dwayne said curtly.
Tilting his head to the side, Jake whispered in Rakell’s ear, “Forget girls. I don’t think he likes humans in general.”
Dwayne continued, “I went to his apartment, and the dude had what looks like ten thousand books.”
“You’re not a big fan of books, huh?” Jake needled, his eyes fixed on the fading scar still dusting the bridge of Dwayne’s nose.
“Now, Jake, don’t tease,” Georgia scolded from the other side of the table. “It’s because he was never good at reading.” The people within earshot seemed to halt in the middle of eating. Rakell could feel Dwayne almost vibrating from embarrassment. “It’s true, but Papa always said it didn’t matter because you were good with a football, and he was right...”
“Stop, Mama, just stop.”
As if someone had hit him on the shoulder, Jake’s back went rigid. “Ready, dude? It’s time,” Jake declared loudly, holding up a large turkey drumstick, his eyes casting up and down the long row of tables forming one expansive Thanksgiving gathering. An impish grin took over his face, and Rakell thought it was some theatrical ploy to cover for Dwayne. She’d noticed how they did that for one another. As much as they gave each other a hard time, there was an unspoken allegiance, like they could draw proverbial sardonic swords on each other, but the outside world had better step back if one of them were under siege.
Suddenly, she saw Jake’s grandpa sit up and clap, yelling, “My money is on Jake!” Then his grandma nudged Dolores, and they both raised their glasses in the air, chanting, “Dwayne’s our man, Dwayne’s our man!”
“Yes, he is!!” Georgia yelled, stomping her feet, which started a rippling effect of feet clopping under the table.
Then Jordan proclaimed, “Jake’s got this. He’s been pacing himself.”
Dwayne pitched his head forward, a grin consuming his face, his animated gaze scanning the length of the table, turkey leg in hand, assuring he had captured the audience's attention. “We all know who’s faster, Ms. Annette. You got the stopwatch, so say when!”
Rakell watched as Annette stood, half-smirking while rolling her eyes as if she was succumbing to a silly request. She glanced down the table to Jake and Dwayne, both leaning forward, ready. Her look reminded Rakell of the mom of toddler boys waiting for an inevitable food fight. “Ready, set…go,” she said, her thumb starting the stopwatch on her phone.
Rakell tried to fight the urge to cringe outwardly. She was witnessing a Southern Spring Break eating contest, onlookers cheering the two men on. She wanted to yell— this does not happen in the rest of the civilized world—but found herself watching Jake mouth a turkey leg like a lion tearing at a zebra’s flesh and suddenly began rooting for him. What the hell? First, you cheer this guy on as he runs down the field with a pigskin, and now you're hoping he gnaws a turkey leg clean the fastest. Damn, she really needed to spend more time in Europe. She caught Delilah’s shrugged shoulders; they exchanged a knowing glance, which erupted into a shared laugh.
“Done!!” Dwayne shouted, springing up from his seat, holding a meatless bone in the air like a trophy. “Done. Once again, Dwayne Bradshaw wins!”
The table erupted with a mixture of hoots and cheers before settling back to eating and muted conversation.
Then from the other end of the table, Jake’s aunt Dolores shouted, “Did y’all hear there are whispers that Congressman Emmitt may run for governor? He’s got real Christian values and doesn’t want all the liberals from New York and California to keep trying to make Texas something we’re not.”
Rakell shook her head, then stopped, realizing she was staring. How did Dolores know that? Matt said it hadn’t been announced yet.
Jake whispered, “For Christ’s sake,” beside Rakell, just as his mom stood and announced, “It’s time for dessert, Dolores. David and any other hands available to help get the pies out, jump in. Jake, get more…”
“Wine. On it, Mom.” He tapped Rakell on the shoulder and said, “Come with me; I need a bottle babe.”
“Sure…bottle what?” she murmured, distracted. “Wait, how did Dolores know that? It hasn’t been announced. I mean, I haven’t heard anything…” she swallowed as she peered at Jake.
