After Uncle Paul’s fifth gin and tonic of the night, he began to sense a buzzing around him, like an old neon light. He looked up to see that Winnie’s Grill had got crowded with men, a knot of whom stood behind Paul, swaying in unison and singing along with the hopeful piano of Mary J. Blige’s “Real Love,” which played on the house stereo. Paul pressed forward in his cushion-backed stool so that his head hung over the bar. That’s when he saw the red velvet cake, white frosting glowing like a winter moon in its glass-topped dish, tucked onto the shelf under the register since it was after 1 AM and the kitchen had been closed for over three hours.
“Yeah baby, I’m ready to take that home with me.”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
While Paul was picturing a milk chocolate man with wiry muscles unbuttoning a red velvet shirt, Winnie stooped, lifted the dish to the counter behind the bar, and used a square bar napkin to slide the cake onto a plate, which she deposited in front of Paul.
“Thank you,” Paul murmured, and fingered the wad of cash in his pants pocket, wondering if he should tip. I’ll get her extra on my next drink, he decided and sat back in his chair, smelling the citrus of CK-One cologne on one of the divas standing behind him. “Real Love” had ended and one of them said, “Bitch, it’s ‘I’m searchin’ for a real love,’ not ‘RE-searchin’ for a real love.’ You ain’t in school!”
Xavier fumbled for the back pocket of his jeans and Paul asked, “Just one drink?”
Xavier turned his head, still looking at Paul, then said, “Thanks for the drink.”
“Yes it would. Enjoy your cake,” Xavier turned to step away from the bar just as the desperate man with the 20-dollar bill lunged back, holding four red-labeled bottles of beer, and accidentally shoulder-checked Xavier, who jerked forward, face flared with surprise.
