Page 103 of Thug

She laughed. “Just happened to have a couple of bags of freeze-dried cat treats?”

I sighed. “I was riding by the pet store this afternoon and figure what the fuck? I just as well stop if I’m right here. So, I picked up a few packs of ‘em. I forgot to bring them in.”

She gave me a funny look. “The pet store isn’t on your way home.”

I scowled. “Oh, now you’re monitoring my whereabouts?”

“I can’t win with you.”

“All you do is win with me.”

“Dinner’s ready.” She nodded toward the cats. “And, you shouldn’t call him a little bastard, even if he steals the other one’s treats.” She glanced at my treat-filled hands. “Wash your hands before you come in the kitchen.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said in a snide tone.

She rolled her eyes and turned away. “With soap.”

I apologized to the cats for the interruption and gave them each a few more treats before going into the kitchen. The entire north end of the home smelled like a wonderful mixture of Italian and Mexican food.

The cast iron skillet was filled with a thick red sauce. Five cooked eggs were evenly spaced throughout the dish. “Will you tell me what it is?” I asked. “Or do I have to guess?”

“Shakshura,” she said.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a Mediterranean dish. It’s like Greek huevos Rancheros,” she said. “It’s the best I could do with what you had.”

“Smells fantastic.”

“It’s supposed to be eaten with bread, but you didn’t have yeast or baking powder. I couldn’t even make emergency bread.”

“What’s emergency bread?”

“Flour, salt, baking powder, and milk. It’s a really hearty bread that doesn’t need to rise before you cook it. You can make it in ten minutes. That’s why it’s called emergency bread. You make it in a bread emergency.”

“What constitutes a bread emergency?”

“Cancelling dinner plans and making shakshura at the last minute.”

“Can we eat it with regular bread?” I asked.

“I made toast.”

Uncertain of how to serve the dish, I asked Gray to plate my food. We sat beside one another at the table, each with full plates of the fabulous smelling dish.

She dipped the corner of her toast in the egg’s yolk, took a bite, and then scooped up some of the sauce with a portion of egg. I did the same.

The tomato-based sauce was thick, with large chunks of tomatoes in it. Spicy, but not hot, it was rich and sweet. I devoured my plate in a matter of minutes.

She nodded toward my empty plate as I mopped the remnants with a slice of toast. “I was going to ask if you liked it, but I don’t think I need to.”

“This shit’s amazing,” I said. “What’s in it?”

“Garlic, onions, tomatoes, red pepper, olive oil, cayenne, paprika, and cumin.”

I stood. “Put this on the list.”

“What list?”