"Are you upset?" Grace asked as she watched Josiah pick his pants up off the floor so he could call his job and come up with an excuse.

"No call no show, you automatically get fired." He explained while dialing the number, "I barely got this fucking job."

Resting her head back on the pillow, she saw the tension in his body as he paced along her bedroom floor.

Her mind was actually on asking him if he wanted to go to breakfast with her. She could pay him for the money he didn't make today if he agreed.

I'm a sugar mama, Grace thought with a low giggle.

Hearing her laugh, Josiah mugged her, "Ain't shit- Hello?" He said when his supervisor answered.

Grace couldn't hear what was being said on the other hand, but the more they talked, the less tense Josiah's posture was.

He hung up the phone with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I gotta stop fucking with you."

"Why? Isn't this fun?"

"Hell nah it ain't fun almost losing my only source of income."

She was partially listening to what he was saying, only wanting to know one thing, "So are you off today?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want breakfast?"

Josiah looked up in surprise, wanting to agree to breakfast, but also not wanting her to think this was something more than what it was.

Guessing what he was thinking, Grace rolled her eyes, "We had sex last night and you didn't let me drive drunk. The least I can do is offer you breakfast, as a friend."

"You know how to cook?" Josiah asked as he stood back up to put on his shirt.

"No, but Celina's here and she'll make us something if I ask."

He'd forgotten that Celina worked for her family since he'd never run into her when he was here. He still didn't want her going out of her way to cook for him though.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'll make us something."

Grace's eyebrows shot to her hairline, "You'll make us something? Grilled cheese sandwiches don't really do it for me, sorry."

"Yo you gon' stop disrespecting me." Josiah laughed, "I'm a whole ass chef."

"Like Gordon Ramsey chef? Orrrr I can boil noodles chef?"

"Man shutup and bring your ass on."

He followed her into the kitchen, glancing appreciatively at all of the appliances he was able to see.

It was a culinary paradise.

"Celina the only person cook in here?" Josiah asked as he walked to the refrigerator.

For some reason, he never felt uncomfortable here. It helped that it seemed as if Grace lived alone, no one else around when he was here.

"Yeah. My mom isn't that good at it."

Not one to judge anybody and what their family life is like, he nodded, "My mama straight with it. I mean she ain't me, but she cool."

"Now when I taste these off brand ass eggs, I'm telling you if they're nasty."

Grace and Josiah's 'friendship' was easy, neither of them
looking to be in a relationship, the both of them simply enjoying the other's company.

They just clicked.

"Do you drink coffee?" Grace asked while making her way to the machine to start brewing a cup.

"Nah. It be tearing my stomach up."

She laughed as she reached for a K-cup, "That's because you get all that sugar in it. I'll make you a cup."

"And if I gotta shit, I'm not responsible for how your bathroom smell when I'm done."

Conversation continued to flow as Grace sat on the counter and watched him move around the kitchen as if he belonged.

"What are you making me?" She asked, sipping from her cup.

"Uhhh." Josiah paused, looking into the freezer, "Whats off limits?"

"Nothing. Celina usually has what she needs for dinner separated so it's not even in there."

"You allergic to anything?"

"Peanuts."

Josiah nodded while reaching for the pears that were in the back of the fridge, feeling the skin to see if they had gone bad, "Crepes with caramelized pears."

"Oooooo caramelized pears." Grace teased, "Not regular pears, but caramelized."

"Go to hell."

Her piercing laugh made him smile unconsciously, continuing to pull the rest of what he needed from the refrigerator.

To anyone who didn't know their situation, they would assume they were together, the simplicity with which they communicated.

Until Grace asked rhetorically, "You know what I can make? Mimosas."

Josiah's movements faltered slightly, "I don't drink."

"It's a baby drink." She waved him off while getting the orange juice, "You'll barely taste the alcohol."

"I don't drink at all, Grace."

Her eyes found his, seeing no hint of joking in them, "Nevermind then."

Blowing out a breath, Josiah returned his attention to the mixing bowl in front of him, checking the consistency of his ingredients to see if it was ready to be transferred to the pan.

The energy in the room had turned awkward, and Grace wanted to kick herself for ruining what had started out as a good morning.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, hoping to return their playful atmosphere, "I didn't know."

"You good." Josiah replied, "It's not that serious."

Could've fooled me, Grace thought.

The smell of cinnamon wafting upstairs was likely what caused Samantha to come to the kitchen, pausing when she saw a man standing over the stove.

She looked at Grace, who was staring at the young man how she assumed she used to look at Isiah.

"Grace?" She called quietly, alerting them to her presence.

It clearly wasn't quiet enough since Josiah jumped, dropping the spatula on the stove.

"Sorry." Samantha smiled, "I'm not used to Grace having company."

People came to visit Grace all the time, Samantha was just usually upstairs asleep, and never came down to see who was here.

"Mom, that's Jo." Grace introduced, "Jo, this is my mom."

Josiah cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his pants before walking closer to extend a hand, "Josiah."

"It's nice to meet you."

He noticed how her eyes seemed to be empty, and found himself avoiding them as to not make himself uncomfortable.

Once they were done talking, Josiah returned to the stove to make sure his crepes didn't burn.

"A respectful man that can cook. Grace, you should keep him."

From humble beginnings, money never influenced how Samantha saw people. She was a firm believer in assessing ones energy to see what kind of person they were.

Must not have worked on Isiah.

"He's a friend mom. That's it."

Samantha smiled again, "My friends never cooked for me is all. Must be the new generation."

"Your husband can cook then?" Josiah asked, not knowing that was the wrong road to go down.

"My husband can't put two slices of bread together." She laughed, "But neither can I. It's why we have our cook, Celina."

Grace was watching her mother engage in conversation with Josiah like she'd known him for more than the 10 minutes that she was down here.

Samantha looked content, happy even.

"When we were younger, college days, Isiah would try to cook for me. Emphasis on the try, since everything he touched was burned or inedible."

"It's a trial and error typa' thing." Josiah explained, "Is he better now?"

The smile slowly faded and was replaced with a look of distantness, "I wouldn't know."

He looked up, noticing the emptiness in her eyes had returned, "You came just in time then. I'm finna show two generations how to cook."

"Mom we need to humble him. Tell him his food is trash."

Samantha was surprised by the joking tone in which Grace spoke to her, and was unwilling to let it pass, "Your food isn't good."

"Trash, Mom. Say trash."

"It's trash." She corrected herself with a laugh.

The three of them continued to talk until the food was done, praising Josiah's cooking skills the entire time they ate.

__________

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