Page 30 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty
Nasir whooped in excitement as he sat next to Feyi. “I’ve been dreaming about this all year,” he said. “What’s this, Dad?”
Alim sat across from them and spread a linen napkin over his thighs, his voice amused as he glanced at his son. “Just a homemade sauce, Scotch bonnet and passion fruit.”
“See, that’s a bomb-ass welcome-home meal.” Nasir leaned forward and dapped his father. “You a real one.”
Feyi wondered what would happen if she shared on Instagram that she was in Alim Blake’s mountain house, eating a dinner he’d made himself. It was fucking surreal—she could still remember the first time she’d seen him on TV, sitting on a judging panel in an ash-gray suit, his hair cropped low. It was difficult for her to connect that man on the screen to the one sitting before her now. The real-life Alim had more texture. Feyi could see old acne scars on his cheeks, she could reach out and touch his long fingers if she wanted to, his nails cut short and oval, the rugged terrain of his palms. Nasir made a plate of food for her, heaping bright green rice next to a red spill of the curried goat, layering slices of breadfruit by the edge of her plate. Feyi thanked them both awkwardly, then ate in blissful silence as flavors unfurled in her mouth. Joy would kill to be here. Feyi tried to remember everything so she could describe it to her best friend later, the way the breadfruit melted in her mouth, how easily the curried goat dripped off its bone, how fragrant the rice was. She was barely listening to Alim and Nasir’s conversation, noticing only when it dropped into silence and she looked up to find both of them watching her eat as they held back smiles.
“Don’t mind us,” Nasir said, with a grin. “You having a whole moment over there.”
Feyi blushed furiously. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “I got so distracted. This is, like, the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
“Never apologize,” Alim said. “This is what food should be— more than a meal, a sensory experience.” He put his hand to his heart, and his eyes crinkled. “It’s a pleasure to share it with you.”
Feyi felt her face get even warmer. “I have to confess, Mr. Blake,” she blurted out. “I’ve seen you on TV, and I never ever thought I’d get to eat your food in person. I had no idea until our plane was landing, and it’s just—it’s an honor to be your guest. My best friend is, like, one of your biggest fans. She’s been telling me about Alusi for years.”
“Ah, we must have her visit one of these days, then,” he replied, giving her a kind smile, and Feyi could tell that he actually meant it. She couldn’t wait to tell Joy.
Nasir patted her on the shoulder. “You did good, holding all that in up till now. I really didn’t think you’d last this long.”
“Look, I tried to play it cool,” she said. “The food just broke me.”
Alim laughed. “I am very much looking forward to seeing your work at the show. Rebecca wouldn’t give me details; she’s being quite secretive.”
“Same here,” Nasir added. “Feyi won’t tell me a thing about what she’s going to be showing.”
“You’ll see it when you’re meant to see it,” Feyi retorted. “Be patient.”
“I’m sure it will be spectacular,” Alim said. “Rebecca wouldn’t have included you if it wasn’t, not even as a favor to me.”
Nasir smirked. “And that’s saying a lot, because she’s had a crush on Dad for ages.”
Alim cut his eyes at his son, and Feyi paused with a forkful of rice in her hand.
“Oh, it’s like that?” she said, trying to mask the way something in her chest had clenched at the thought. Rebecca Owo would be perfect for Alim, now that she considered.
“Ignore my son,” Alim said. “We’ll schedule lunch with Rebecca soon. I believe she’s already been in touch with you about install and the like?”
Feyi nodded, her mouth full of rice and peas.
“Perfect.” Alim stood up from the table. “You must excuse me; I have a quick call with São Paulo, but Nasir, you’ll show her around, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you for the meal,” Feyi said, smiling up at Alim. “It really was spectacular.” He really was spectacular. How on earth was she going to make it through this trip sane?
Alim smiled back. “We’ll have a simple dinner later, but if you’re feeling peckish, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” He left the room, and Feyi turned to Nasir, squeaking with excitement.
“I cannot believe that just happened! I have permission to snack in Chef Blake’s kitchen?”
Nasir laughed. “Bet. And this is just one of the kitchens in the house; he has a full professional kitchen on the next floor, where he tests out his recipes and shit.”
“Oh, so this is like his play kitchen?”
“Basically.” Nasir stood up and held out a hand to her. “Ready to see the rest of the house?”
“Will I ever be ready?” Feyi let him pull her out of her chair, and she stared wide-eyed for the next half hour as they walked arm in arm through the rooms and hallways, the soaring library, the gym and saunas. Nasir avoided some parts of the house, and Feyi didn’t ask why. She could feel Alim’s silence there, behind the doors, and she had no desire to poke into his spaces, the places where he was just himself, not the chef, not the father, just whoever was left behind when he took those faces off. There was so much of the house that she got completely disoriented halfway, unable to keep track of the staircases and bends.
“See, I can’t even show you the grounds,” Nasir said. “We’d both get lost if we went exploring.”