Make it Hot (13 page)

Celia and Penny exchanged knowing glances.

“Anyway, you’re just like family, so we’ll trust you with the family recipes,” Celia offered. “And you, Samantha sweetie, can help me with my signature potato salad.”

Samantha laughed at the still-frowning face of Maritza. “Are you sure you want to share the family recipes with me, Mrs. Hightower?”

“Of course, Samantha, both you and Maritza are family, whether you realize it or not.” Celia chuckled softly to herself, and a devilish little gleam lit her eyes.

Like mother like son,
Samantha thought as she washed her hands in the sink.

She thought Maritza and Penny looked familiar and had written it off as simply their stunning photographic looks. As it turned out, the best friends were former video girls and they had actually met on a rap-video set. She must have seen them in a video or something.

Samantha finished mixing up the potato salad and hoped it came out okay because she did not want to be the person who jacked up the potato salad at the cookout.

Maritza took a seat on the barstool next to her. “Anyway, can you believe this woman had to come and snatch up the second-hottest Hightower brother?”

“That’s right, second hottest!” Penny slapped her best friend five. “Y’all better recognize. My baby, Jason, is the hottest by far.”

“All my sons are hot, including Terrell, who is just like a son to me since he, Penny and Jason spent so much time here driving me nuts when they were kids.” Celia nudged Penny with her elbow.

Maritza scowled at the mention of Terrell’s name.

“What woman snatched up the second-hottest Hightower? Is she here? Who’s the second hottest in your opinion, Maritza? I think I have to side with Mrs. Hightower on this one. They’re all equally hot.” As far as Samantha was concerned, Joel was really the finest of them all, but she wasn’t hardly about to say that.

“You, chica.” Maritza laughed. “You came up in here today with the second-hottest Hightower, Joel,” Maritza said, and drew out Joel’s name in a sing-song voice.

The proper thing to do, since he was her patient and not technically her man, would have been to tell Maritza that Joel was still a free agent. After all, they weren’t
together,
together. And sure, they had this chemistry and the sex was sizzling, crackling, sparkling hot…Then there was the fact he had already sort of professed his love for her, but that was right before sex. She couldn’t count that.

In all honesty, she shouldn’t have the desire to tell Little Miss Video Model Maritza to stay away from her man. He wasn’t her man…right?

She could neither confirm nor deny, and she wasn’t about to give Maritza a free pass to go after the hottest Hightower at the cookout, so she just smiled and shrugged.

“Look at her. I’m scared of you, girl! You gave me the look like,
sorry, chick, he is mine.
Did y’all see how she looked at me?”

Celia just beamed, and Penny smiled.

“All right, ladies, let’s take this food out there before Carla starts giving us a piece of her mind,” Celia said with a light chuckle.

“Goodness knows we don’t want to get her started,” Penny offered.

They carried the various salads and side dishes outside and put them on the big teak picnic table.

As she sliced into her perfectly grilled chicken, Samantha thought it was a good thing they went inside to finish up the side dishes or Mr. Hightower would have burned up the food gazing at his wife.

“Mama, as usual you put your foot in this potato salad,” Joel’s older brother Lawrence exclaimed.

“I didn’t make the potato salad.” Celia winked at Samantha.

“They always get you like that.” The oldest Hightower son, Patrick, smirked at Lawrence. “Penny made it.”

Penny shook her head. “Nope, I didn’t make it, either.”

“Okay…Wait…” Lawrence eyed Maritza and smiled. “Don’t tell me, Miss Maritza “I Don’t Believe In Cooking” made it.”

“No. Samantha made it.” Maritza batted her eyes at Lawrence, and Samantha could only assume she had set her sights on the next-hottest Hightower brother.

“Aww, man…Another little brother lucks out and gets a pretty girl who can cook like Mama.” Lawrence winked at Patrick and then turned to Samantha. “So, just how close are you with my kid brother Joel? Because in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m way better looking, and—”

“Whatever, Casanova Wack. She’s taken.” Joel placed his arm around her. “Find your own woman.”

Samantha smiled. The Hightowers were a riot, and they really made her wish her childhood could have been different. It would have been so cool to have brothers and sisters, a loving mom and a dad who’d been around.

“Penny, how long have you had your sisterlocks? I’ve been contemplating either getting sisterlocks of just locs.” Samantha couldn’t get over how beautiful Penny’s hair looked. It made her think about doing something more permanent herself. “I’ve worn my natural hair in two-strand twists since graduate school while I’ve thought about making the commitment. I think I’m finally ready to do it, especially after seeing your beautiful sisterlocks.”

“Oh, you should definitely consider them. I love mine. I’ve had them for about six years now.”

“Mmmph.” Sophie rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth in disgust. “A bunch of nappy-headed harlots…. Does anyone believe in perms anymore? I mean, really, what’re you going to do when you have children? Let them run around here nappy headed, too? I will
not
have Hightower children running around here with nappy heads.”

No. She. Did. Not. Did that old woman just pull a Don Imus on me?

“Now, Sophie, don’t start.” James gave his sister a stern look.

“Yes, Sophie, really!” Celia shook her head.

“Sophie needs to chill before she get stole on.” Carla folded her hands across her chest.

Samantha slanted her right eye and folded her arms across her chest. The fact she and Joel were a long way from even thinking about kids was neither here nor there, and the fact Sophie may or may not have been talking about her in her little rant against the reign of the nappy heads was beside the point.

The only thing that really mattered in the moment was Sophie Hightower must have lost her damn mind, and Samantha was just the person to help her find it.

“First of all,
Sophie,
I find your comments not only insulting but pitifully self-loathing. There is nothing wrong with people choosing to wear their hair in its natural state. Just like there is nothing wrong with people deciding to wear their hair chemically straightened. I find the variety of textures represented at this table alone beautiful, because I find black people beautiful.

“And for the record, I’m happy to be nappy. If I ever have kids, they will wear their natural nappy hair until they are old enough to make decisions about how they want to represent themselves in the world.”

Samantha rambled out her words so fast and so furiously she barely took a breath. It was only after she finished and was putting a piece of chicken in her mouth that she realized she had just told off Joel’s aunt. His father’s sister.

Guess who won’t be invited back to the family dinner.

She glanced around the table and just as she thought, all eyes were on her. She put her eyes back on her plate. She couldn’t look them in the eyes. She didn’t even bother looking at Joel. He was probably embarrassed that he brought her along.

Carla started a slow clap.

Penny was right: her mother was a nut.

Now Carla was calling even more attention to what had just happened, and all Samantha wanted to do was crawl under the table.

“Ha! You tell her, new girl! Ha! You finally got one who will stand up to your ole hateful behind. She ain’t gonna cut you no slack like Penny did. It’s
on
now. I like her. Joel, you need to go on and
wife
her like the kids say. She’s a keeper. Ha!” Carla stopped clapping and let out a gut-busting laugh.

Samantha decided to take a chance and look at the folks around the table again. Everyone at the table seemed to be trying to hold back their laughter. Everyone but Sophie. She was shooting the serious evil eye in Samantha’s direction.

“So, Samantha, are you from around here?” Patrick made an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah, I don’t sense a Jersey accent.” Lawrence eyed her inquisitively.

Smooth transition.
She would have to thank them later.

Although, an even better move would have been to engage someone else in conversation and take the spotlight off her completely, but she had to work with what they’d given her.

“I’m from Chicago. I came out here for graduate school and I got my MS in Occupational Therapy and Doctor of Physical Therapy degree from Seton Hall University. Since I ended up getting a job in the area, I decided to stay.”

“Chi-town, huh? So how are you liking Jersey?” Jason asked.

“I like it. I love my job. I’ve met some really cool people. It’s nice.” She nodded and smiled, hoping they would find someone else to talk to soon.

“What made you decide to become a physical therapist?” Terrell asked.

“I’ve always been interested in the health-care field. I realized early on that nursing wasn’t for me, and the idea of actually seeing a lot of blood didn’t really move me—” she shuddered briefly before continuing “—but helping people with the after stages of recovery after the nurses and medical doctors have cleaned up all the blood and gore, that worked for me.”

“Mmmph,” Sophie rolled her eyes.

Here she goes again. This woman won’t quit. Ignore her.

“Do you think it’s professional to be dating your patients,
Samantha?
” Sophie drew her name out and released it in a hiss.

“Aunt Sophie, let it go.” Joel narrowed his eyes on his aunt.

“Yeah, Sophie, let it go. You’ve just been allowed back at the house after the way you treated Penny.” There was an edge in Jason’s voice as he addressed his aunt.

“I’m not letting anything go, and neither should you all. I mean, really, I’d like to see these DPT and MS degrees she claims she has, ’cause it looks like she is abusing her professional relationship to gain an
M-R-S
degree.” Sophie shook her head and let out a mocking laugh. “You better be careful, Joel. Mmmph. Physical therapist, my behind. More like a cheap masseuse. Professional? Mmmph…I bet she’s a pro, all right.”

“That’s enough, Aunt Sophie. If you can’t respect my guest, you are going to have to leave,” Joel snapped.

“Ha! Don’t let the doorknob hit ya, Sophie,” Carla taunted.

“Sophie, please just shut up,” Celia implored.

“I’m not shutting up while you allow your sons to ruin our family name with their poor taste in women, am I the only one who can see what is going on here? You’re building up your little nappy-headed army of harlots, Celia, but I won’t be silenced by the likes of you.”

Celia pursed her lips and then turned to her husband.

James got up and gave his wife a peck on the check. “Babe, wrap my food up for me while I take my sister home.” He stood by his sister. “You’re going to have to stop this, Sophie. You’re getting ridiculous. Worse and worse.”

Sophie huffed and gave Celia, Penny and Samantha the evil eye before standing.

“I wonder if your place of employment knows you are whoring yourself with your patients.” Sophie spun around and made her grand exit with that statement.

Whoring!

Samantha made a move to get up from the table only to be halted by Joel’s hand.

She glared at him. It was his fault after all.

“Well, I think you handled Sophie very well,
chica,
” Maritza said.

“For once I have to agree with Maritza. You held it down with class and black power. ‘I find your comments insulting and self-loathing,’” Terrell offered with a chuckle.

“Don’t be agreeing with me. Find your own opinion.” Maritza rolled her eyes at Terrell.

“Okay, enough arguing for one day. I can’t wait until you two get together,” Jason teased.

Maritza crossed her arms, and Terrell started fiddling with the food on his plate.

“Carla, pass me the potato salad,” Gerald said. The man had been quiet most of the afternoon. He seemed content just being there and taking everything in.

“Just cause you put a ring on my finger don’t mean you got a maid, bro. Your hands can reach.” Carla twisted her lips to the side. “I’ll tell you, these men forget they can do things once they get a woman to do things for them.”

Penny let out an exasperated sigh. “Mommy, it’s rude to reach. Pass Pops the potato salad.”

“Rude, spude. Whatever. We all family now. The Hightowers already know how we do.” Carla folded her arms and twisted her lips to the side.

Penny gave Carla an intense, reproachful stare.

“Oh, brother! Fine.” Carla passed Gerald the bowl.

“Thank you so much, love of my life,” Gerald teased his woman with a smile.

“This party is boring. Y’all ain’t got no music?” Carla complained.

Penny shook her head.

Samantha looked away from the various interactions. At least she was out of the spotlight. She looked up at Joel and found him staring at her. Well, maybe she wasn’t completely out of the spotlight yet.

“Hold your horses, Carla. I have music. James got me one of those iPod thingies and he put all these oldies but goodies on it. I have it right over here.” Celia got up and turned on her iPod. “I’ll put it on shuffle so it will just mix up the songs.”

“All you got on there is old songs? I wanna hear some new music.” Carla folded her arms across her chest. “I wanna crank dat soldier or lean wit’ it rock wit’ it—”

The music started wafting through the air, and Carla stopped short.

“Oh…Hey, wait a minute. That used to be my cut!” Carla screamed and then started singing. “It only takes a minute, girl…To fall in love…to fall in love…” She grabbed Gerald’s hand and they started dancing.