Bitch knows how to cook. Lowering my fork back into the Tupperware container, I jab it forward, forcing a carrot and a beef chunk against the plastic sidewall. I swipe them to my mouth. Chewing, my bent elbow propped over the open door of Lu's refrigerator, I look around me. Leafy vines droop down from perfectly aligned flower pots on a shelf above the kitchen sink. Ivory taffeta curtains, the same shade as her skin, line...