Big Eddie’s shoulders were soaked in sweat and splattered in grease, his armpits dense with coarse black hairs that seemed ready to — “fittin’ to” — burst out like an untended garden. His arm muscles were massive and both fleshy and firm, and his thigh were as thick as trees. It seemed hardly sanitary for such a man to prepare victuals, but American barbecue tasted wrong if cooked by a clean man or any kind of woman.