7. My Business Is Sullivan Business #2
“Yeah. You can call her that. She’s older.” I winked, tapping the counter before heading to the private elevators.
Amil had lived in the building long enough that Mr. Lonnie was familiar with our family.
I’d even caught him flirting with Grandma Lettie a few times when we visited together.
I never called him out about it because I thought it was cute.
I’d never mentioned it to Aura though. That was one nigga that didn’t play about G.
The doors of the elevator opened on the 26th floor, and I stepped off. Before I could make it down the hall, Amil’s door opened, and she peeked her head out.
“What, you got a tracker on my ass or something?” I laughed as I approached.
“No. Mr. Lonnie don’t play about his job. He let me know you were on your way up. Hurry up and get in here before I lose my damn mind.”
I slowed my pace just to aggravate her, and it worked.
“Stop playin’, ho!” The irritation in her voice was clear, but I could see her trying hard not to laugh.
“Alright. Alright.” I walked inside her place and kicked my shoes off, sliding them into the custom shoe rack near the door.
“I was just about to call you again when Mr. Lonnie called.”
“It’s only been thirty minutes since we got off the phone, Milz. You would’ve called on that rushing shit and got hung up on.”
“And I would’ve called right back to cuss yo’ ass out.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever is going on, it better be an emergency the way you actin’. And it smell good in here. What you made?” I asked as the smell of roasted garlic mixed with basil and other aromatics pulled me toward the kitchen.
The organized chaos on her island stopped me before I could get to the pots. It was covered in blueprints, paint swatches, and magazine clippings. Blinking, I turned slowly to Amil, who stood close behind me with her hands clasped in front of her, all innocent and shit.
“Well, I made baked chicken, wild rice, and broccolini, with a side of a new business venture.” Walking around me, she grabbed a lone glass of wine that sat on the counter and pushed it in my hand.
“I need you, and I know food gets your creative juices flowing. So, I got my pretty ass in the kitchen and got to work.”
“So, you lured me here with food?” I questioned, my posture giving offense.
“And wine.” She put her hand out and pushed the glass up to my lips.
I silently took a sip then smirked over the rim of the glass. “That’s some real Sullivan shit right there. I ain’t even mad atcha. Fill me in while I fill my plate.”
Heading over to the sink, I washed my hands and grabbed a plate.
Although she owned a restaurant, Milz had never been an “in the kitchen” kind of girlie.
No matter how many times Grandma Lettie had us in there growing up, teaching us new recipes and how to make different dishes from scratch, Milz wasn’t interested.
Still, she learned because well, there was no telling Grandma Lettie no, and as young girls growing into womanhood, we needed to know our way around the kitchen.
Along the way, she’d mastered a few dishes, and baked chicken was one of them.
I’d have to see about the wild rice. That was new.
Propping herself up on one of the barstools at the island, she began explaining what all she had scattered on top of it. “Okay, so boom, you know Sullivan’s has been my baby for a few years now and is slowly becoming the new diner spot for everyone.”
“Not slowly,” I cut in, “it is. Continue.” With my plate full, I sat down next to her.
“Right. I was tryna be a lil’ humble.”
“Do that on your own time. You know I love when you pop it.” Cutting into my chicken, I scooped up some rice and brought the combo up to my face to examine it before eating.
“Hold up,” I said, doing my best Nate Dogg impression, making her laugh.
With my hand up to my mouth, I pointed to the plate. “You did something with this rice.”
Smiling proudly, she nodded. “I did. A lil’ bit of this, a lil’ bit of that. You like it?”
“Hell yeah.” I spooned another forkful into my mouth.
“Good, because I plan to have this meal and more on the menu at my new restaurant.”
She spread the blueprints between us in order to give me a full picture of what she wanted, and off the rip, I could tell that her indecisiveness was what made her call me.
The ideas weren’t the problem; it was the fact that there were so many.
I looked over what was in front of me in silence for a few seconds before looking back up at her.
“So… you finally ready to take that leap?”
She sat back and smiled. “I am. And I know you’ve been telling me it’s time, but I had to feel it. You know things always have to be in alignment for me, not what looks like alignment to everyone else.”
“Yeah. And I get that.
“Who else knows?”
She shook her head. “Nobody other than you and God. I told him first.”
That made me pause. “Not your dad? Aura? Grandma Lettie?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. Why me? I mean, I love that ‘cause you showing who got rank ‘round this muthafucka, but why me?”
She cocked her head and looked at me incredulously.
“Key, not only are you the planner, but you’re the only one in the family who can execute my vision the way I see it in my head. You figure out the flow, and you always make shit make sense. It’s a special skill you have that you inherited from your mom.”
I smiled into my wine as I took a sip. It wasn’t my normal cocky smile, but a fulfilling one.
I didn’t think my family understood how much joy it brought me to be the one they called on for special “you hear it first” moments.
It was like I was the link in the chain that kept everything connected in a sense, and I loved that they allowed me to show up in my fullness.
Sometimes loud, bossy, and a stickler for detail, but they knew my heart and that whatever they needed done that was within my power would get done.
“I love how you tryna butter me up to take on this new project.”
“And I love how it’s working, so where you wanna start?”
For the next two hours, we talked locations with high traffic, décor, atmosphere, lighting, and overall vibe down to the smallest detail.
We’d done some more cutting out of magazines, and I’d even downloaded Canva on her iPad and spent time showing her how to navigate it.
I took notes in my phone of ideas she seemed passionate about as she talked and challenged her on ideas I thought didn’t fit her overall plan.