All Up In My Business by Lutishia Lovely Read Free Book Online Page A

reached for a few more paper towels and began looking on the floor for liquid spots to clean up.
    “Oh, don’t worry about it. Beverly can clean it up later.” Candace was referring to the Haitian housekeeper she’d hired the year she turned fifty and decided she’d washed enough dishes and swept enough floors for her lifetime. She’d further justified the decision with the knowledge that the salary she paid Beverly fed her six family members who were cramped into a two-bedroom apartment on Atlanta’s west side.
    “I’m still adjusting to the fact that you have hired help,” Toussaint said. He’d ignored his mother’s suggestion and wasnow wiping a bit of dressing off the stainless-steel refrigerator door. “If you don’t watch out, people are going to think you’re bougie … trying to keep up with the Joneses.”
    “Please, son, you know better than that. We’re Livingstons. The Joneses are trying to keep up with us.”
    Toussaint stuck his finger into the bowl of salad dressing. “This is good, Mama.”
    “Boy, get your finger out my food. You haven’t changed a bit—still that rambunctious child who shot your cousin in the back of the head with a BB gun.”
    “Ha! That’s why you love me, Mama.”
    “That I do, son. That I do. That’s probably your brother,” Candace said when the doorbell rang. “Unlike you, who walked into our home as if you still lived here and scared me half to death, your brother has manners and is ringing the bell.”
    A half hour later, Adam, Candace, and their two sons were seated around the massive mahogany and cherrywood table that anchored the Livingston’s dining room. They’d just finished the Caesar salad and were digging into Candace’s seafood lasagna with gusto.
    “Victoria is going to be sorry she missed this, Malcolm,” Toussaint said around a mouthful of food. “I bet y’all’s cook can’t compete with this dish … no way.”
    Malcolm shrugged. “Chef does all right. Of course, nobody can compete with Mom’s cooking.”
    “I’m sorry she and the kids couldn’t join us,” Candace said, repeating what she’d said earlier when learning that only Malcolm would be joining them. “That new church she joined sure keeps her busy. But then again, it’s been a long time since there’s been a Sunday dinner with just the four of us.”
    “I can’t believe July is around the corner and the year is halfway over,” Adam said.
    Toussaint nodded his agreement. “Fourth of July next week. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
    Speak for yourself, Romeo . Malcolm reached for another slice of the bread Candace had made from scratch. He took a bite and groaned his pleasure. “Remember Malcolm Mondays and Toussaint Tuesdays? When y’all would have to eat what we cooked?”
    “How could we forget?” Adam asked. “Some of the stuff y’all made could have killed me! Like that almost-raw pork you served covered in barbeque sauce? I think some of those worms are still crawling around inside me.”
    “Naw, Dad,” Malcolm countered. “I think you’ve drunk enough cognac to kill anything living down there. Besides, I was, what, seven or eight years old when I baked that first slab of ribs?”
    “And you were so determined,” Candace added, smiling. “You looked so proud as you brought in that platter and set it on the table. Your father and I didn’t have the heart to tell you that we couldn’t eat that meat.”
    “You didn’t have to. Toussaint spitting his bite back onto the plate was hint enough.”
    Everyone at the table cracked up at that memory and at the fact that Candace had diverted the boy’s attention long enough to secretly microwave the ribs to a level of doneness. The conversation continued, largely revolving around cooking and food.
    “Yeah, if your last name is Livingston, you’ve got to be able to burn,” Adam concluded. “And thank God that now I’ll gladly park my feet under Malcolm’s table and eat anything he