Page 2 of Hot Chicken

11:25 a.m.

Harry: Google Salty Jo’s. It’s in the North End before you get to the touristy stuff. Just look for the neon sign in the window that says Hot Chicken.

I sit up taller in my seat, plug Salty Jo’s into my navigator, and scratch the back of my head. For the life of me, I can’t remember this place. Maybe it’s new?

Pulling away from the curb, I look at the guys in my rearview mirror who continue to work on the beachfront remodel. These waterfront properties are pricey even in a small island town like Candy Cane Key. But once the updates are complete, this beach house is going to be jaw-dropping.

As my body temperature cools, I have to acknowledge how proud I am of Harrison trying to make something of himself day in and day out in this heat. He works hard. What’s more, he made a commitment to stay in our hometown to be there for our mother, only for the universe to turn his good deeds against him when our mother was diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s disease a few years ago.

Mom was only fifty-six when she received the formal diagnosis, but it’s progressed rapidly, causing Harry to have a difficult time keeping her safe. Initially, she only required the assistance of a day nurse. Once she was down for the night, things were fine. Yet things have steadily gotten worse.

Mom now requires twenty-four-hour care. He’s pledged to keep her at home, but finding help overnight has become a challenge. Hence why he called asking for my help. And Harrison never asks for anything. I didn’t hesitate to request a short-term leave of absence from the fire department, stating I’d return as soon as we’d made better arrangements for my mother.

As I near my destination, I have to do a double take. “This can’t be it.” Apparently, Salty Jo’s is a gas station with a small convenience store attached. The place looks like it should be condemned. Peering through my dusty windshield from one side of the property to the other, I search for tumbleweeds. Scratching my head, I look back down at my brother’s text.

Harry:Just look for the neon sign in the window that says Hot Chicken.

My gaze flicks up from my phone to the glass window of the convenience store to find a purple and red neon sign.

Hot Chicken.

I guess this is the place.

Chapter 2

Matt

I step out of my truck and walk toward the door with trepidation.I hope the food tastes a hell of a lot better than this place looks.

A metal bell chimes overhead as I open the door, and I’m relieved to find the inside is quite different than what greets you in the service area. The bright interior has clean white linoleum floors and shiny metal countertops. Soda fountains and coffee stations are to the left, and the cashier’s counter is to the right. As I approach, I find a portly-appearing older gentleman reading the newspaper on a stool behind the counter.

“Hi. Are you Elliot? I’m working with my brother this summer, and he sent me to pick up lunch for his crew.”

“Ah, Harry your brother?” he asks around a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, any brother of Harry’s is a friend of mine. I’m Jo.”

“Matt. Nice to meet you. Oh. Salty Jo is you?”

He grins, and I instantly have the feeling this man is a fixture in Candy Cane Key.

“I don’t recall this place from when I grew up here.”

“What’re you? Thirty?”

“Close. Twenty-eight.”

The bell chimes again, and I notice customers meandering around the store. No one seems the slightest bit concerned about the condition of the place. I’m sure they have to pass inspections with the health department, but I can’t help being a tad concerned about eating food from here.

“Well, we’ve been around as long as you’ve been on the planet, son. Although it probably looked a bit better back then. Time and tropical storms have taken their toll on the place. After a while, it feels silly sinking any more money into it. But your brother has come to our aid more than once for the important stuff.”

This makes me smile. My brother really is a good dude.

“Speaking of your brother, we need to keep his boys fed.” Jo removes the toothpick that remained in place throughout our conversation and points to his right. “Elliot’s over there. In the hot food area.” A mischievous smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

What’s that about?“Thanks.”

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