His brows bounce up and down. “I think Candace and Burt had a thing. I’d like to think it wasn’t taking place while Candace and I had a thing, but after witnessing a few heated exchanges and hearing snippets of those arguments, I was able to deduce things were getting physical between them and Burt might have become the other man.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
His jaw redefines itself. “I was sorry to hear it, too. I had asked Candace if we could talk about it. Of course, it was the day we were taping her show. Things didn’t end well.”
He glares past me as if reliving the event, and it makes me wonder if things ended in murder.
“I don’t know what she saw in Burt.” He shakes his head. “She already had the gig. Most women see Burt as a gateway to launching their careers, a necessary evil, but Candace seemed to be genuinely interested in him. All the guy does in his spare time is gamble his money away at some underground casino out in Leeds. He’s not interested in a relationship unless it comes in the form of chips. He heads that way just about every night from what I hear. Or at least when he’s in the mood to lose his money.”
My antennae go up. I know exactly where that underground casino in Leeds is—buried in the armpit of Red Satin.
“I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath and gives a quick look around as if coming to. “I’ve got to supervise things.” He steps away and I’m left with more questions than I came with.
I look over to the table to find Carlotta flapping her arms as if she was turning into one giant chicken wing herself. The waitresses land a new set of spicy chicken wings before the contestants and both Noah and Everett dive on in. Noah’s face is puffy and he’s got tears running down his cheeks, and Everett’s face is a curious shade of red. Down at the other end, both Conner and Kyle are moaning out loud but plowing their way through the wings in front of them as if their lives depended on it.
Their lives may not depend on it, but I have a feeling their dignity does.
Noah lets out a hard groan as he sits up and I run as close to the table as the production team will allow.
“Noah!” I shout over to him. “Just give up! It’s not worth it. I can buy my own cheesy jalapeño muffins!”
“Sorry, Lot.” He shoots Everett a side-glance. “I’m in too deep. There’s no turning back now.”
Everett lurches as if he were about to get sick before he closes his eyes, downs half his water, and carries on.
“Everett! You need to stop! This isn’t the ideal situation to put yourself in considering what lies ahead tomorrow.”
He shoots his blue eyes my way and they’re glowing as if they were backlit. The whites of his eyes are lit up with crimson tracks, and his nostrils are flaring from the heat.
“I’ve got this, Lemon. Only three more plates and those cornbread muffins are yours.” He gets back to eating and smashes through those three wings on his plate.
Mayor Nash looks green around the gills, but by some miracle he’s finished his plate. Another round arrives and a few more contestants drop out, leaving only Conner, Kyle, Mayor Nash, Noah, Everett, and Carlotta.
And to Carlotta’s credit, she gulps down the next three wings, bones and all.
Carlotta spikes up in her seat with a start. Her eyes are agog, her mouth opened wide.
Woody chuckles. “That’s a Trinidad Scorpion, folks. It tends to take its time to give its heat, but once it does, it’s enough to knock an elephant off his feet.”
Carlotta wheezes and brays as if she were doing her best impersonation of a donkey before pounding on the table with her palms as hard as she can, over and over again.
“Kill me now!” she shouts. “Kill me now!” Her head starts to spin on a swivel as she bypasses the glass of water by her side and takes up the entire pitcher. In her haste to drink straight from it, she sends a river of water and ice gushing over her face and dousing the front of her blouse. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think she were trying to drown herself. She reaches next to her and repeats the process with a pitcher left over from a contestant that’s already wisely called it a spicy day.
Carlotta crawls up onto the table and scoops up about six different red paddles and throws them all in the air as if she were about to juggle them.
“And she’s out!” Woody calls as that army of waitresses does their best to remove her from the makeshift stage.
Carlotta stumbles my way before dropping to her knees and rolling around in the dirt while gagging and sputtering.
“Carlotta!” I shout. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No, Lot, I need death. Stomp on my temple with the heel of your shoe, would ya?” she screeches out the words while wiggling like a cat on fire.
Evie and Dash break out into a spontaneous cheer routine for their boyfriends as both Conner and Kyle rock in their seats so violently the entire table is shaking. They look at one another and nod, both picking up their paddles in tandem and out they go at the very same time.
They take off for Evie and Dash, who quickly wrap their arms around their brave yet slightly foolish plus ones.
Now it’s just Mayor Nash, Noah, and Everett.
“Second to the last dish!” Woody shouts as the waitresses set the newest, spiciest wings yet down before them. “This hot sauce is brought to you by the Carolina Reaper. Good luck, boys. You’re going to need it.”
Mayor Nash girds himself as he dives on in.
Noah and Everett exchange a glance, and for a second I think they’re going to pull a Kyle and Conner, but they simply glare at one another as if the other were to blame for landing them in this predicament to begin with—and that’s not a far stretch from the truth.
But they get right to it.
“Breathe!” I shout to the two of them, and sure enough, through each bite they look as if they’re right back to helping me with my labor breathing. “Slow, even breaths. Count to five! Let the pain do what it needs to do. Take your mind to a peaceful place!” It’s funny how a month later the roles are reversed and I’m suddenly the labor coach for the two of them. But the only thing they’re about to birth is a whole lot of trouble.
Mayor Nash gets as far as the second wing on his plate before he sits up with a jolt, picks up the red paddle, and whacks himself in the face with it over and over again.
That probably feels better than whatever is happening in his mouth right now.
“Two contestants left!” Woody howls. “Gentlemen, we have never gotten to the final plate in any of our previous competitions. So congratulations, you’re both already winners in my book. But I bet one of you is hungry enough to make it official. Ladies,” he calls out as the last plate is set before them.
Both Noah and Everett look my way. Noah’s face has blown up twice as puffy as before, his eyes are a never-ending river of tears, and his lips are bloated. Everett has gone from red to purple, and his eyes are nothing but twin pools of blue set against a blood red backdrop.
Evie runs up next to me. “Mom, you’ve got to stop them. I think Uncle Noah’s head is about to explode, and Dad looks like he’s morphing into a demon.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say as the two of them start in on some power breaths while looking down at their plates.