The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off (10 page)

“There's whiskey in the kitchen but Alma Grace already moved in and I'm packed and ready to move tonight. Your privacy is gone. Where are those cupcakes that Yancy brought?” Carlene asked.

“They're in the bottom drawer of my file cabinet. I swept them away in a hurry. And honey, Yancy has a house, too. I'll have my drink now and then I'm going to his house. If y'all are still awake when I come home later tonight we'll have cupcakes as a reward for surviving this day,” Patrice said.

Alma Grace whined as she removed her high heels and rubbed her feet. “Do you think the worst of it might be over? If not, we'd best hire some help, ladies.”

Carlene's giggle was giddy. “The cash register is bulging and poor old Josie was dragging when she left. I'm glad tomorrow is Sunday.”

Alma Grace stretched out on the floor, not even caring that her spandex skirt rode up to the bottom of her panties. “My feet and my back hurt and I've side-stepped so many damn questions about you and Lenny that I am dizzy.”

Patrice kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes down into the carpet. “You said a cuss word. You been prayin' and cussin' more than usual. I wonder if that's a sign that if you should stop prayin' those naughty words will stop comin' out of your mouth.”

Alma Grace slapped a hand over her mouth. “I did, didn't I?” She looked up toward the ceiling and fluttered her eyelashes. “Forgive me, Lord, for saying an ugly word. Put it in Carlene's heavenly book, not mine. She's the one who got all this started. Amen. And for your information, I will not stop prayin' for Carlene, Patrice.”

Carlene looked up at the ceiling. “Go ahead, God. Slap it on my page. It's already messy and Alma Grace's whole book is spotless clean. But don't put your pencil up because you are going to need it since she's flirting with Jack Landry and he's pure old sin on a stick.”

“I am not and he is not!” Alma Grace said quickly.

“You are, too,” Patrice said. “And every girl in town has had the hots for Jack at one time or other. What do y'all say we go home and come back tomorrow afternoon to clean this up? We can drive out to the Rib Joint and get some barbecue for supper and have one of my cupcakes for dessert.”

“I thought you were going to Yancy's,” Alma Grace said.

“Sex can wait. I want ribs and beer,” Patrice said.

“We'd better hurry up. Our mamas went upstairs to change into their cooking aprons. If we aren't gone when they come back down, they'll guilt us into helping,” Carlene said.

“Hey.” Josie poked her head in the door. “I figured it would look like a tornado struck in here. Need some help before I go home?”

Patrice shook her head. “I thought you were gone.”

“I was all the way to the car and forgot my keys,” Josie said.

“We're not cleaning up tonight. We're comin' in tomorrow and taking care of it.”

“I'm not coming in here tomorrow. When I walk out that door, I'm not coming back until Monday morning, so speak now or forever hold your peace,” Josie said.

“We'll take care of it. Enjoy your day without a bunch of company,” Carlene said.

“Oh, there's a paper bag in your office, Patrice. It's got some checks in it from folks who want to help bankroll the Red-Hot Bloomers Team. Did Agnes talk to you about being our stockbroker?”

Patrice nodded. “I've got a bank bag and a spiral notebook full of the folks who are buying stock on both sides of the fence. I hope to hell we win or else Agnes and Violet might wind up in jail again.”

“Or Mama,” Patrice said. “How much does it take to bail a woman out of jail for fighting? Mama won't put up with Kitty saying too much more about Aunt Sugar.”

Josie nodded seriously. “I'm going to the convenience store for a slushy. Y'all want me to bring you one on my way home? And I have no idea how much it'd take to get Sugar out of a jail cell but we'd best find out and have the cash ready. Tansy really would whup that hussy just for upsetting Sugar and truth is she'd enjoy doing it. She and Agnes might even get to share a cell. Not to put any pressure on you about the cook-off, but Alma Grace, you'd best stop prayin' for Carlene and start prayin' they learn how to make one helluva world-class bowl of hot chili.”

Carlene held up her hand. “Patrice, I'll take a hundred dollars worth of stock on Aunt Tansy if she and Kitty get into a good old catfight but you'll have to extend me some credit until I build my checking account up again.”

“Put me down for a hundred on Aunt Tansy and a hundred on Mama. You can bet that Mama will want in on that catfight,” Alma Grace chimed in.

They all looked at Josie. “Don't look at me. I'm the one who's going to hold that mean-spirited bitch down while the Fannin girls snatch her baldheaded. And Alma Grace you can save your self-righteous looks for your cousins. I'd like to see her get her smart ass kicked twice for the stunt she pulled with the candlesticks and glue. I could have called her something a lot worse. Good night girls. Maybe next week will be normal.”

Normal!

They wouldn't see normal until after the cook-off, if then.

Carlene yelled up the stairs. “We're leaving, Mama. Y'all don't look at the mess in the store. We'll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Is Alma Grace going to church in the morning?” Sugar hollered.

“CNC if I go,” Alma Grace shouted.

Carlene had the doorknob in her hand when someone pounded on the front door of the shop. “Someone probably left their purse. Hope we can find it among all this mess,” she said as she made her way to the door.

She slung it open and gasped.

Lenny took a step forward and glared at her. “What the hell do you think you are doing, entering the chili cook-off? That's not for women. Are you crazy?” Lenny was yelling so hard that the vein in his head looked like it was about to pop wide open.

“Are there rules that say women can't enter? If so, we are going to protest that the contest is sexist and shut down the whole cook-off,” Carlene said.

“Not written down but it's understood. This is for men only,” Lenny said.

“Not anymore,” she said.

“You won't win. You'll just make a fool of your whole family,” he argued.

“We'll see about that. You worried that you won't win the trophy this year?”

“Oh, I'll win. I always win, but this year will be real sweet, especially since you tried to break all my trophies,” he growled.

“But darlin',” Carlene said in her best sugary-sweet sarcastic voice, “you always said I was your good luck charm, remember?”

“I just said that to make you feel important,” he said.

“If you win, you send Bridget on down here and I'll give her a brand-new pair of red panties. Her choice of bikinis, thongs, or maybe she'll want some maternity under-britches,” Carlene said.

“You aren't funny,” he said hoarsely.

“It sounded damn funny from my end. Has the April Fools' joke done a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn to bite you on your sorry ass, Lenny?”

“Go to hell.” He stormed off the porch.

Carlene turned around to see both her cousins standing beside the credenza. “Now we really have to win the contest.”

Gigi pulled a big pot from a box that she'd used to haul ingredients from her house. The laptop waited on the table with the first recipe they intended to try that night. First thing she had to do was open two big cans of chicken broth and there was no electric can opener. She searched in the drawers and finally found a handheld one but none of the three knew how to use it.

Someone knocked on the back door and Tansy opened it. “Hello. Come on in. What can we do for you?”

A red-haired lady with a face full of freckles stepped into the kitchen. “Y'all might not remember me. I was in grade school when y'all were up in high school but I remember the Fannin sisters real good. And I brought this Mexican casserole over for y'all's supper. My ex-husband has a team at the chili cook-off—the All My Exes Team, since the guys are all divorced. I just want you to know that I hope you beat the shit out of them and if you need any help in any way, you just call me. My name is Betsy Wilder.”

“You know how to operate a can opener like this?” Tansy asked.

“Yes, ma'am. Show me the cans you want opened and I'll do it for you before I go on up to the nursing home in Sherman to work,” she said.

“Thank you and thanks for the casserole,” Gigi said when Betsy finished and headed for the door.

“Y'all are welcome. Good luck and that is a disposable pan. You just enjoy the casserole and throw it in the trash,” she called back over her shoulder.

“That was awful sweet of her, wasn't it? Now, we have to put the ground beef into the stock which is to be poured into the pan,” Gigi said.

Tansy carefully poured the yellow liquid and then waited. “I didn't remember Betsy but I do remember the Wilder family. Now what do we do?”

“Well, I'm not putting my hands in that raw meat and it says that it should be crumbled up. I can turn on an oven so I'll heat up the casserole. It sure smells good,” Sugar said.

“Oh, hell, give me the ground beef. I'll do it,” Gigi said.

“Then we have to cut up that big red onion and the garlic,” Sugar said.

“Your job. I touched the meat,” Gigi told her.

“I can do that if you two will measure out all the dry spices in one bowl and the liquid spices in another,” Tansy offered. “But you'd best not tell a soul if my mascara runs.”

“This is going to be some awesome chili.” Sugar measured honey, molasses, liquid smoke, and lime juice. “Wouldn't it be something if we found our winning recipe right here at first?”

“Wait until we taste it. I swear, I never heard of putting molasses in chili before,” Gigi said.

“That's it. Easy peasy. Put it all in the pot and let it simmer two hours. It'll be ready by bedtime,” Tansy said. “What are we doing the rest of the evening?”

“We're setting up the electric cooker and getting our chicken to cooking for tomorrow's recipe,” Gigi said.

“I'm not touching a dead bird. It would be sacrilege to Dakshani,” Tansy said.

“You have to touch the raw meat, Gigi,” Sugar told her.

“Okay, okay, I'll do it. I don't know how Mama ever cooked all those years,” Gigi said. She put two chickens in each of two crock pots because tomorrow they were making enough to fill Grandpa's big cooker.

“Who's going to taste all this shit? We're going to have enough chili to feed an army,” Sugar asked. “I decided to turn off the oven. We can heat up what we want of the casserole in the microwave.”

“We'll find someone to taste it for us. Hey, we should get Patrice to make us some little suggestion and comment cards so we can see what people like the best,” Tansy said.

Gigi's nose curled as she removed the wrapper from the chickens and slid them into the crock pots. The minute she finished she rushed off to the bathroom to wash her hands with that disinfectant soap the girls kept in there.

While she was gone, Tansy's phone rang. She took it out into the foyer so she could talk to Alex privately. And that's when Sugar realized that no one had even opened the cayenne pepper. She twisted the lid off and found a tablespoon measure, filled it up, and dumped it into the pot. When she stirred it up, it didn't smell nearly as hot as the chili she'd sampled at the cook-off in previous years so she put in another tablespoon.

“Please, Lord, let this be wonderful so we don't have to cook anymore,” she prayed.

Gigi came back, pulled a bottle of tequila from the cabinet, and poured two fingers in the bottom of a glass. “Don't you look at me like that and don't you dare start praying,” she told her sister. “I've got to get the taste of that raw meat out of my mouth.”

“You didn't eat any of it, did you?” Sugar was appalled.

“No, but I smelled it and it's in my mouth now,” Gigi said.

“Well, I've done my part. I'm going up to take a bath. You keep watch on the pot and stir it every fifteen minutes. I'll take my turn while you take a bath,” she said.

Gigi stirred and smelled, then reread the recipe and frowned. She'd watched Sugar measure all the ingredients into the bowl except for cayenne pepper.

“Well, shit! I bet that's what gives it the heat. It'll be bland as oatmeal without it.” She picked up the tequila, tossed the rest of it back, shivered, and then checked the recipe. It said a tablespoon but Sugar had put all the measuring utensils into the dishwasher. She found a fourth cup measure and it didn't look so big so she filled it up, poured it into the chili, and stirred it well. Then she poured another two fingers of tequila and carried it toward her bedroom. She still had things to unpack. Tansy could damn sure watch the chili and talk at the same time.

“Stir every fifteen minutes. Tequila and bourbon is on the bottom shelf above the stove,” she said as she passed Tansy.

Tansy nodded and headed toward the kitchen. She listened to Alex telling about a new colt born on the ranch that day and ran her finger down the recipe. Damn it! The cayenne pepper was sitting right there. Sugar had put up the spices as she measured them so she wouldn't get confused. Evidently she forgot to put that one in the mixture.

It said a tablespoon but Tansy couldn't talk and measure, too, so she shook a little in the pot, smelled, and shook a little more, and then be damned if that little cover with the holes in it didn't pop right off and the rest of what was in the bottle got dumped.

“Oh, well, that should be just about enough to make it good,” she said. “No, I'm not talking to you. Sugar forgot to put the cayenne in the chili but I took care of it. Now tell me more about the new colt.”

They met in the kitchen at ten o'clock that evening ready to taste their first pot of chili. Sugar had taken on the last job of stirring and already had three plastic bowls on the cabinet waiting when Gigi and Tansy arrived.

“It smells good,” Gigi said.

“Y'all sit down and I'll serve it up.” Sugar smiled. “But first we say grace.”

No arguments so she bowed her head and thanked the Lord for the wonderful meal they were about to partake of and then she filled three bowls and put them on the table.

“I just know this is going to be heavenly,” Sugar said.

“Okay, on three we all put the first bite in our mouths, chew slowly, and then we'll pass judgment,” Tansy said.

“One, two, three,” Gigi said.

The chili went in.

Gigi ran to the kitchen sink, spit it out, grabbed the tequila, and sucked on it like a starving baby.

Tansy spit it out on the floor and turned up the bottle of bourbon and gulped a dozen times.

Sugar chomped twice before the fire hit her mouth and she spewed it all over the wall, fell out of her chair, and clutched at her throat, gasping for air. She didn't even hesitate when Gigi handed her the tequila. She just turned it up and downed what was left in the bottle.

“Damn!” Tansy said. “That is some hot shit.”

“Ha….ha…hot as hell.” Sugar's breath still came in short gasps.

Gigi slid onto the floor next to Sugar and started to giggle. “We've got to get rid of it. Nobody can ever know about that recipe.”

Tansy sat down with them. “You are drunk. That bottle of tequila was almost half full.”

“I might be but so are y'all. Even Sugar.”

Sugar fanned her mouth and her words were slurred. “Mouth feels like I ate fire. Pour it out in the backyard for the wild animals.”

Tansy giggled. “What the wild animals ever do to you?”

“Jamie says coons will eat anything.” Her head bobbled around with every word.

“I'll do it,” Gigi said.

Using two potholders she carefully carried the chili out the back door and dumped it off the edge of the porch. The night breezes wafted the chili up to her nose and it started to run. A stray dog came running up, licked at the edge, and took off with his tail between his legs, howling like he'd been struck by lightning.

Gigi had trouble focusing but she could tell that wasn't a cat but a skunk coming from around the corner of the lilac bush. She backed up a step. The skunk sniffed the air and a black and white blur went running toward the back of the lot.

“Y'all think we should call out the hazardous waste people?” she asked as she carried the pot to the sink and ran water in it.

Tansy pointed. “It took the paint off the wall. We might have invented a biological weapon.”

Sugar giggled. “God almighty but that shit was hot.”

Tansy used a chair to steady herself when she finally stood up. “The tequila or the chili, which one was hotter?” Her words came out in slowly slurred bits and pieces.

Gigi sunk into a kitchen chair and stared at the spots on the wall. “That damn chili was hotter. Wasn't it, Sugar?”

“Damn straight.”

***

Patrice pulled the blanket up over her and Yancy and scooted close enough that she could feel his body warmth. He kept the porch swing going with the heel of his boot and his right arm tightly around her shoulders. His left held her hand in his lap and his thumb made sexy little circles in her palm.

“Thank you for helping Mama into the house today,” Patrice said.

“You are very welcome. I called Lenny this afternoon and resigned from the Chili Kings.”

“Oh, my sweet Jesus. I forgot that you were a member of his team.”

“
Was
being the word here, darlin'. He was mad as hell but he can find another team member. Actually he has to find two more because Carlene's dad resigned, too. I promised I wouldn't give you any of our secrets but he said he had perfected a new recipe for this year and it didn't matter anyway,” Yancy said.

Patrice kissed him on the cheek. “I'm sorry, darlin'.”

“Don't be. I'd much rather make love to you than make chili with Lenny and the guys. Now tell me about your day. I was worried that Agnes and Violet would come to blows right there in the foyer so I stuck around until they'd finished bickering.”

She stretched enough to kiss him hard, teasing his lips open with her tongue and tasting beer and pretzels. “The store looks like a dozen women had a major catfight. Agnes set up a support fund for the Red-Hot Bloomers Team. And she made me the investment person, which is a glorified name for bookie, so everyone can…quote”—she brought both hands out from under the quilt to make imaginary signs in the air—“‘buy stock in whichever team they think will win.' When Lenny's team loses, then whatever stock they have is given to the winning team and Agnes is throwing a victory party at Clawdy's.”

Her hands went back under the quilt and she unbuttoned his shirt.

He clamped a hand over hers. “God, that feels good. I'm so glad you came over tonight. I'm lost when I don't see you for a whole day and night.”

“Me, too,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “I'm wondering, if I am involved in a sexual relationship with a bookie, could I lose my job.”

“If you lose your job, we'll give you one selling underpants at Bless My Bloomers. I bet we'd have record sales with someone as sexy as you in the shop. All you'd have to do is make a suggestion and the women would buy anything.”

***

Carlene laced her hands behind her head and stared at the television in still another new bedroom. Hopefully Alma Grace had not inherited her Mama's snoring gene. Carlene was on the verge of too tired to eat when they'd gotten to Patrice's house. And then she had to unpack six boxes of clothing and put it all way. Aunt Sugar, Aunt Tansy, and her Mama, bless their hearts, had packed her things and they were organized so well that the unpacking didn't take long.

From the noise in the bedroom right next to hers, Alma Grace wasn't having much luck with her unpacking job. She wasn't cussing but she was sure doing a lot of very loud grumbling. Any minute now Carlene expected to hear desperate prayers asking God to zap down more closet room and maybe an extra chest of drawers.

Her phone rang at the same time the one on the rerun of
Golden
Girls
did on the television set. “Blooper.” She pointed at the TV, and then she realized that Blanche was talking and the ringing noise was coming from her nightstand.

She rolled over and grabbed the phone. The caller ID said it was coming from the Cadillac police station. Holy shit! Had Aunt Sugar and Kitty squared off already?

“Hello,” she said breathlessly.

“Carlene? This is Jack Landry. How are you this evening?”

“I'm fine. What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Carlene. Why would you ask that? Oh, the thing with Sugar and Kitty, right? Or was it Agnes and Violet?”

“Either or both,' Carlene said.

“Jail is empty and town is quiet. I do believe we're safe for the night.” He chuckled.

“Well, that's a relief,” she said.

“I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the mess you are in.”

“I'm not giving up the contest,” she said bluntly.