Free Gator Bowl by J. J. Cook

plastic-wrapped silverware and napkins so they’d be easy to grab when it got busy. I was making the mixture that would coat the chicken and feeling pretty good about what we were going to do.
    That was when Norman rolled in with his double-cab truck, hauling the biggest grill I’d ever seen behind him on a trailer.
    The grill was the size of a small room at IKEA. At least one or two people could have lived in there. Uncle Saul was right—Norman could cook a whole cow on that thing.
    A woman was with him; I assumed she was his wife. She started getting plates and plastic silverware ready to go. Norman grinned as he fired up the gas grill. The flames shot up into the deep blue Alabama morning like a forest fire.
    â€œWhat do you think he’s cooking?” Ollie watched from the open side window.
    â€œBeef. The man only makes beef.” Uncle Saul was watching Norman anyway.
    â€œThose are the biggest bottles of barbecue sauce I’ve ever seen.” I watched as Norman rolled the barrels of sauce out of the truck.
    â€œHe makes the stuff himself.” Uncle Saul sighed.
    As we waited and watched, Norman produced a side of ribs, and tossed it on the grill. People actually applauded when they saw it. Showmanship didn’t hurt his food production, either. Long before the ribs were ready, people were waiting in line with coleslaw-filled plates to heap a big slice of ribs with it.
    â€œThat doesn’t look good for us,” Ollie observed. “He has it goin’ on, doesn’t he?”
    â€œDon’t count us out yet.” Uncle Saul put his first load of chicken into the fryer.
    There was a knock on the open back door. It was Bonnie—wearing a big smile—and Alabaster walking on a leash. “It smells real good in here. What’s for lunch?”
    â€œChicken, biscuits, and peaches.” Uncle Saul smiled back at her. “What’s that you’ve done with Alabaster? She’s not a dog, you know.”
    â€œI’ve been telling you for months how much like a dog she is,” Bonnie said. “You should treat her more like one. Keep her tied outside when you’re gone. She won’t eat Norman’s chickens that way.”
    Alabaster grinned and swished her tail.
    â€œThanks for bringing her by,” Uncle Saul said. “If I get her back, I’ll take that advice.”
    Bonnie smiled and seemed a little shy. She definitely had a thing for my uncle. He was hard to read. I hoped he had a thing for her, too. Surely he wasn’t still pining after my mother.
    Just thinking about that made me feel uneasy.
    â€œOkay.” Uncle Saul brought out the first batch of chicken. “We’re ready to go. Mind that fryer, Zoe. It’s popping a lot with that fresh oil.”
    The warning came too late as I reached across to grab a biscuit for the first plate. The oil hit me on the wrist, and I dropped a biscuit into the deep fryer.
    I hated to lose it. I was worried enough about there not being enough biscuits. I grabbed a metal scoop before I really had time to think about it, and snatched the biscuit from the fryer.
    â€œI don’t think we should use it this way.” I mourned the biscuit. “Here’s one for the plate.”
    I put the deep-fried biscuit on a napkin, planning to throw it away later. Ollie was right behind me with a tube of stuff for the burn. It wasn’t that bad, but I let him put the salve on it and wrap it with enough gauze to cover my whole arm.
    â€œThanks. That’s much better.” I waited until he was busy handing a plate and dinnerware to Uncle Saul before I removed the gauze. I was afraid it might cut the circulation to my arm.
    People were lining up outside the window. It was exciting to see them there. I hoped it was foreshadowing for what would come when I got started with my own business.
    Hungry people from town continued to roll in. They wanted to eat—and to find out who won the