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Sadly, Niko only saw her as his friend. He had never made a move on her or crossed any lines. The friend zone had been reserved for her, and she thought she would be happy there, but Mykeisha was right. Watching him with other women was torturous, and knowing that he was sleeping with them ate at her.
She’d failed at finding the right man for her because he was already in her life. It was a hard pill to swallow, but she hoped to change all of that this weekend. Kizzie didn’t care if he was seeing someone. She couldn’t remember the last chick he’d spoken about.
Her bestie was sort of a man whore.
He was always with some female who she didn’t try to remember their name. None of the women were good enough for him. They couldn’t give him what he needed.
Kizzie could.
She was going to tell him how she really felt about him. Niko needed to know, and she had to get it off her chest. She didn’t want to go another year with harboring this secret. It was festering inside her and was ready to be shared.
For far too long she had held these feelings for him inside. No more. She was going to claim her man.
“You and your imagination,” Kizzie muttered. She didn’t want to tell her cousin that she was going to put all of her cards on the table. For one, Mykeisha would never let her live it down. She had been saying for a while that Kizzie needed to stop playing around and go after Niko.
And two, Kizzie didn’t want to admit it, but if Niko rejected her, she wanted to be able to lick her wounds in private. Not that Mykeisha wouldn’t be there for her, but some things a woman had to deal with alone.
“Imagination? Girl, please. The entire world can see that the two of you are meant for each other. You just have blinders on and can’t see.” Mykeisha finished off her coffee and set her empty cup down on the table. “A man as fine as that will eventually get claws dug in him by some bitch.”
“Mykeisha!” Kizzie laughed.
“One of them hoochies he’s messing with will eventually snag your man. Will you be able to deal with that? Attending Niko’s wedding and you are not the bride?”
Her cousin had made a valid point.
There was no way in hell Kizzie would be able to be a guest at his wedding to some other woman.
Oh, hell no.
* * *
“Don’t you burn that chicken like you did last time,” Kizzie called out. She slammed the door to her car and headed toward the restaurant.
It was a beautiful warm day in Cleveland. It wasn’t even noon yet, and the heat was already making its presence known. McCall’s Barbecue was a well-known staple in the city. Their new restaurant was located in midtown and received plenty of traffic from the local business employees and the residents.
Kizzie’s father, Charles, and his two brothers, Jeff and Donnie, had started McCall’s Barbecue when they were in their mid-twenties. The men had a way around a grill and smoker. Their tasty barbecue had won awards at fairs around the country, and they were encouraged to share their talents with the community. The men had worked full time at a local factory and banded together to pool their savings.
In a short time, McCall’s Barbecue was born.
The original building the restaurant was started in had been nicknamed ‘the shack.’ It had been a small white trailer that didn’t allow for patrons to sit and enjoy their meal. It only allowed for a carry-out window, a tiny kitchen with a few grills out in the back. Kizzie remembered hanging out at the shack when she was a child. There hadn’t been much room for children in the building so she, her brother, and cousins had spent much time out in the back with the grills. As time had moved on, the children of the McCall brothers began helping out at the restaurant wherever they were needed.
It was why Kizzie had such a love for her family’s business. Their restaurant had grown in notoriety and was known as the best barbecue place in Northeast Ohio. Ten years ago, the McCalls purchased land and built a much larger restaurant that allowed for dining in. Business was booming, and Kizzie was hoping to help expand the brand with her extensive business background.
Her uncle Jeff, Mykeisha’s father, glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. His dark-brown skin was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He pulled a towel out of his back jean pocket and wiped his forehead before returning it. The scent wavering in the air was something that she had found herself homesick for when she was in California.
“Who burned chicken? Ain’t no one burning chicken around here.” He barked a laugh.
She stopped near him and gave him a one-armed hug. He drew away from her, a twinkle in his eye. In that instant, she could see Mykeisha in her uncle’s expression.
“Don’t y’all young folk like meat blackened? Isn’t that a thing?”
“There’s a big difference between blackened and burnt, Uncle.” She snickered.
Jeff opened a grill cover, and a billow of smoke wafted up to the sky. There was nothing like the scent of roasting meat. Even though she had recently eaten breakfast, she felt a little pang of hunger. She would never tire of the delectable meats, the sweet and smokey sauce her family had patented, and the family secret side dishes they sold.
“It still sold, didn’t it?” he asked while flipping over the ribs.
“No, Uncle Donnie refused to offer it to the public. He didn’t want our good name ruined,” she replied.
