Chapter Twenty-Nine
WYATT
APRIL
“This technically doesn’t count as part of our deal,” Nash says as we pull up to Jaden’s house on a sunny afternoon in April.
“And why’s that?” I ask as we get out of my truck.
“I would have come regardless. I don’t miss a crawfish boil,” she explains. It’s the height of crawfish season, or so I’ve been told. I’ve never had it before. “This is perfect for your Texas training. It’s like a holiday season in spring. An excuse to get together and celebrate without the pressure that comes with Christmas or Thanksgiving.”
“And what exactlyiscrawfish?”
“Think of it like if a shrimp and a lobster had a baby. Except they’re only this big,” She holds her fingers about four inches apart.
“I don’t like lobster,” I say, skeptical.
“I know, and it’s a shame. Don’t worry, crawfish just taste like the seasoning they’re doused in.”
We let ourselves in the front door to a packed house.People are everywhere holding beers, chasing kids, and picking at the snacks proffered on the kitchen island. I lead Nash through the house looking for Jaden. He explained to me that being from Louisiana made him the designated boil master. Even though this isn’t an official fake-dating event, to the knowledge of everyone here, we’re still together.
We step out into the late spring sun and spot Jaden standing over a cooler with a sack of crawfish. He’s showing them to the woman next to him. They both turn to us, and I’m surprised to see Nash’s teammate, Temi. I guess Jaden found a way to get her number after all.
“Oh my God, hey!” Nash embraces Temi, her braids swinging over their shoulders. “I had no idea you were coming!”
“Jaden didn’t tell me you’d be here either!” She looks at him, playfully stern.
Nash turns to me. “This is my boyfriend, Wyatt.”
Goddamn if I don’t like hearing those words from her pretty pink mouth. They taste like the sweetest sugar-coated lie.
I hold my hand out for her to shake. “So nice to finally meet you!”
Jaden hefts the sack of crawfish out of their cooler and sets it in a big plastic tub. “Wyatt, can you help me with this?”
“You betcha.” I move over to him, and he hands me a knife to cut the sack open. Then he grabs the hose and puts it in the bucket, filling it with water.
“They’re dirty little fuckers. Gotta give them a bath before we eat ’em.” We slosh them around in the water as Jaden says, “Most people don’t do this step, but I don’t think anyone likes their mud bugs actually muddy.”
I shiver a little at the idea of eating something like that.There’s nothing like this in Wisconsin. The closest we get to Cajun food is Friday fish fry. “I guess I’ll only be eating the ones you cook.”
“Grab all that seasoning over there for me.”
I turn to the table next to the two huge pots sitting over propane tanks. I grab lemons, butter, and a colossal-size tub of red stuff that looks like cayenne. I hand it over to him thinking he’d sprinkle the now-boiling water with a chef’s hand, but to my surprise, Jaden starts dumping everything in. He opens the spices and pours half of them in. “That’s so much!”
He side eyes me. “We’re making thirty pounds plus fixins’.” I take in a breath to say more about his flavoring decisions—even though this is my first time at a crawfish boil—but I inhale some of the Cajun spice floating around us and dissolve into a coughing fit instead. It seems to last forever as Jaden nonchalantly continues squeezing lemon after lemon into the pot, throwing the citrus carcass in after. “Those spices will get the back of your throat,” he laughs, completely unaffected by seafood boil war zone we’re in.
When I finally recover, Jaden stands by the bucket full of creatures. “Help me dump them.” I move to take the other handle, and we walk it toward the first pot, the one with no seasoning. “First, we boil them; then we will put them in the pot with the seasoning and let them soak in all the flavor. The longer they sit, the spicier they’ll be, so I’ll let you try them before I pull them out. You can tell me if you like the heat level.”
“Sounds good,” I say as we upend the bucket into the pot. I stand back as Jaden stirs it with a wooden paddle that’s way too small to actually move a boat, but way too big for indoor cooking.
As we watch the pot boil away, I glance over at Nash and Temi, their heads are close together as they talk.
I wonder if they’re talking about me, and if so, what Nash is saying. Has our fake-dating events and our Texas lessons affected her feelings for me at all? I was attracted to her the second I saw her in that wood-paneled living room freshman year of college. Just how does one go about changing platonic feelings into something more? Is it something you have to have instantaneously when you first meet like I did? Or can it grow over time?
I have a bad feeling I’m going to find out either way.
Chapter Thirty