Gator Bowl (5 page)

Ollie was getting a beer out of the fridge. I sat at the table and asked him what he thought would go well with my biscuits.

He considered the question as he came to the table with pretzels. “What about some country ham and redeye gravy? That's some good eating.”

Uncle Saul sat at the table and shook his head. “I can't imagine eating that on a paper plate.”

“I'd eat it with my fingers out of the pot.” Ollie grinned and munched his pretzels.

“I think it might need to be more solid,” I said. “And something we can make in the food truck.”

“You've got a little deep fryer,” he said. “How about the old standard of fried chicken with biscuits? You can't beat that. You could spice it up. Everyone will love it.”

Uncle Saul and I exchanged glances. “It sounds like a good idea to me,” I said.

“You should consider what Norman will make,” Ollie added. “You want to crush him if you want your gator back.”

“I've known Norman awhile,” Uncle Saul said. “His cooking skills are confined to a grill. I'm sure that's what he'll bring to the church. He has a big one that he made from a two-hundred-and-sixty-five-gallon tank. It's a monster. I think he could put a whole cow on it.”

“It's settled, then.” Ollie chugged some of his beer. “A cow on a grill could never beat spicy chicken and Zoe's biscuits.”

“I like it.” Uncle Saul nodded. “We'll have to outfit the fryer and whatever Zoe needs for the biscuits.”

“I'll have to bake them here and keep them fresh in the truck,” I said. “I don't see any way to bake them in the truck.”

“Hey!” Ollie's eyes flew open wide. “There's your signature food, young'un. You could have a chicken painted on the side of your food truck. She could be wearing a biscuit.”

“Good idea!” Uncle Saul agreed. “You could call it Chicken in a Biscuit.”

I smiled, understanding that they were unaware of what was going on in the food truck business. There were already several trucks serving fried chicken. It might work for the contest on Saturday in this rural area, but Mobile palates expected something sexier.

“Looks like we need to do some food shopping now.” I got up from my seat. “Let me check on Crème Brûlée and we'll go.”

“If it's all the same to you,” Ollie said, “I'd rather stay here and work on that window brace for the motorhome. I'm not much of a shopper.”

“That's fine with me,” I answered. “If you don't mind doing it. Or you could just stay here and take it easy. I didn't mean you had to work all the time you're here.”

“I'm kind of thinking people might be impressed with your food truck,” Uncle Saul said. “If they come and eat more food at our place, we'll win hands down. I'd like to see the look on Norman's face when that happens.”

I found Crème Brûlée sitting at the side of the room near his food bowl. He looked a little pathetic. I knew he was missing his familiar environment.

“Look! I brought your little squeaky mouse for when you got bored,” I told him, producing the purple toy he loved so much. “You could play with squeaky mouse.”

I squeaked the mouse a few times. Crème Brûlée looked the other way.

“We won't be here forever. You have food and water. I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll leave squeaky mouse over here in case you change your mind.”

I picked him up and cuddled him a bit. He slapped at me and bit my thumb before he licked it. I knew he'd be all right, and told Uncle Saul I was ready to go.

The only store that could handle what we were looking for was outside Farmville on the highway. It was a super big-box discount place where Uncle Saul had to show his membership card to get in.

Everything was available in monstrous quantities—one-hundred-pound bulk packs of chicken and twenty-five-pound bags of flour. My recipe for biscuits could be made larger or smaller without any problem. I'd never made more than a tray of twelve biscuits, but I supposed this would be good practice for serving hundreds of people.

Uncle Saul picked up a twenty-gallon drum of cooking oil for the deep fryer. I was sure it was too much for the tiny fryer, but he was worried about running out during the contest.

We also bought a jumbo can of vegetable shortening for the biscuits, and plenty of spices for the chicken.

“Are we serving drinks with this?” I asked.

“No. Minister Windom said there was a drink vendor coming to the event. All we need is the food.”

“What about dessert?”

He considered that. “I've got some fresh-picked peaches.”

“That could work.”

“Should we try something better?” He picked up a can of cherry pie filling. “We could make something like this.”

“I think peaches are perfect. We'll think of something awesome to do with them.”

There was a good deal on a bushel of Georgia peaches. We had to switch from a cart to a flatbed before carrying everything up to the cashier. It looked like we had more than enough to feed everyone. I had no idea how many people would attend the cook-off. We'd have to do the best we could to estimate what we'd need.

Again, it would be good practice for running my food truck. I would never know from day to day how many people I'd be feeding. I'd have to buy enough supplies to satisfy my customers without putting myself out of business because of too many leftovers.

As Uncle Saul was paying for the food, I noticed Evelyn Windom at the jewelry counter. She was dressed much differently than she had been when I'd met her at the cabin. It appeared that she'd even had her hair tinted and styled.

I pointed her out to Uncle Saul.

“Are you sure that's Evelyn?” he asked. “She looks like a whole other person.”

I smiled. “I guess she decided to spruce up some. Maybe she needs some attention from her husband.”

Uncle Saul shook his head. “Or she's looking for attention her husband won't give her.”

I glanced at Evelyn again. She was trying on necklaces. I liked my version of her motives better. But I wasn't as cynical as Uncle Saul.

We talked nonstop on the way home about how we'd make the coating for the fried chicken and what kind of peach filling we could serve on the biscuits.

Ollie had been working on the braces for the food window the whole time we were gone. When we'd taken all the food into the cabin, he showed us how the cover could be raised and lowered over the opening.

I tried it. It was a little stiff, but I knew adjusting it would get easier with time. I wouldn't always have Ollie or Uncle Saul around to help me. It would mostly be me, out on the streets of Mobile, alone. I had to be able to do everything in the food truck by myself.

There was a glitch in the electricity. The lights came on but we couldn't get the fryer to start up. Uncle Saul worked on that while I put away the ingredients we'd need that didn't have to be refrigerated.

It was lucky that Uncle Saul had a minifridge we could use in the motorhome. He'd put it into the cabin to use as a backup when he needed it. Ollie brought it out and connected it up.

By the time Uncle Saul had repaired the wiring—which he thought had probably been nibbled by mice—we were ready to try out the minifridge and the fryer.

I crossed my fingers as the power was restored. Both electrical appliances worked, and so did the lights.

“All right!” Ollie grinned as he opened and closed the refrigerator door several times.

“We're going to have to make room for a microwave in here, too,” I told him, inspecting the tight interior. It was amazing how quickly the kitchen had filled up with supplies and appliances.

Uncle Saul created a shelf for his microwave in the kitchen. He plugged it in, hopefully, and tried it out. It ran with the other appliances. “I wasn't sure the power circuit could take it. But you'll have to get your own when you leave here, Zoe. I can't live without my microwave.”

“Thanks so much, both of you, for all your hard work.” I hugged them. “I guess we'll be ready for the big day. It's great that I get to try it out before I go back home to work with it.”

“I'm going to take a shower.” Ollie smelled himself. “Nothing like hot, humid weather to bring out the stink in a man.”

I laughed, and Uncle Saul told him where to find towels and the outside shower.

“Just watch out for Uncle Saul's pet raccoon,” I warned. “He wanted to shower with me yesterday.”

After Ollie was gone, Uncle Saul and I stood around for a few minutes admiring our handiwork. “This is just the way it was the last time I took her out for a concert on Dauphin Island. That was a long time ago. I'm glad you're going to get some use out of her. Nothing should be left in a shed to fall apart.”

“I'll make you proud,” I promised.

He hugged me. “You always do.”

Ollie came back into the motorhome wearing only a towel around his narrow hips. I couldn't help but stare. He looked even bigger half-naked.

“You two need to come back here and take a look,” he said. “You're not gonna believe this.”

We followed him back to the cement block shower. When I looked inside, I saw Crème Brûlée playing with the raccoon.

Uncle Saul and Ollie laughed. I was a little concerned when Crème Brûlée rolled on his back and started batting at the raccoon playfully.

“I'm not sure that's safe,” I said. “I don't think Crème Brûlée understands that this is a wild creature that could have rabies.”

“Don't worry. I know how to get them out of there.” Uncle Saul pulled on the chain a little, enough that a bucket of water dropped on the animals.

The raccoon scooted out of the shower. Crème Brûlée gave a loud yowl and jumped straight up and out toward the cabin.

That made all of us laugh. “Who knew that big fella could run so fast?” Ollie asked.

The three of us spent the night before the big cook-off trying out new recipes, most of which were terrible and would never see the inside of a cookbook.

Ollie tried a flour and cornmeal batter for the chicken after rolling it in tarragon. I didn't like the flavors together. He also tried using olive oil on the chicken before rolling it in hot sauce. I didn't like that, either.

“I thought you said you couldn't cook?”

“I didn't say I
couldn't
cook—I thought I'd be more useful working on the Airstream with both Chases cooking.”

Uncle Saul had fallen asleep around midnight and was snoring on the sofa that matched his chairs. I wasn't sure how he could sleep on the furniture. They were the most uncomfortable things I'd ever sat in.

Ollie was still going strong, slicing the peaches as he told me funny stories from his time in the Marines. There were a lot of peaches, even with both of us cutting them. We put them into a massive steel pot to soften and simmer. I added sugar and cinnamon to the mixture.

Ollie added brandy and a few chili peppers. “Don't worry. It's gonna be great.”

“I hope so. I expect the sweet biscuits to go over well.”

“Haven't you ever added spice to sweet?”

“Sure. Maybe not that much—and not any alcohol.”

“You have to loosen up, Zoe.” He put his large hands on my shoulders and massaged them. “You're too tense. You can't be a great cook if you're nervous. Everything is trial and error. Don't fret about making mistakes.”

I turned and looked up into his big face. “I've never made many mistakes,” I confided. “I have to be perfect with the food truck. Everyone is waiting for me to fail.”

He hugged me close. I could feel his heart beating. “Just think about all those fine people out there waiting for you to succeed and serve them the best damn meal they ever ate. Think about that, Zoe. You'll be great.”

“Thanks, Ollie. I don't know why you aren't married, and don't have a family. It's their loss for sure.”

I saw his eyes darken before he turned away. “I think I should go for a walk before I call it a night.”

He walked outside as though we hadn't been just laughing and confiding in each other a moment before. It was weird.

Maybe Ollie was harboring a terrible secret about his past. I'd seen something heartbreaking in his eyes for just an instant. I wondered if I'd ever know what it was. I hoped something good would happen for him that would make up for it. He was too good a person to be so sad.

Uncle Saul got up and stumbled into his bedroom. I left the peaches simmering as Crème Brûlée and I got ready for bed. I was up another two hours after that, working on the menu for the next day, and dreaming about my food truck.

Ollie didn't come back before I'd turned off the big pot on the stove and gone to bed. I heard a sound—like a tree falling in the forest—as he crashed on the sofa at about three
A.M
.

I went back to sleep right away, but I dreamed of him. He was still in the Marines, wearing his uniform, and saluting smartly. Someone was trying to kill him. He had to keep eluding them. I woke at five
A.M
. with his name on my lips.

That was it for me. I was up, washed, and dressed by five thirty. Again, no amount of hair gel would make my hair compliant. I tied a pretty blue scarf around it and dared the black curls to creep out.

I was so excited about the day. We would be taking the motorhome out for the first time. I'd be cooking with Uncle Saul. I was sure we'd manage to free Alabaster from her prison at Bonnie's compound.

My hopes were soaring as high as any bird. I knew I would figure out my specialty food that day. I expected to have a name for my food truck, too. Tomorrow, I'd be heading home, but today was going to be special and amazing.

By the time Uncle Saul and Ollie were awake, I was cooking a big pot of grits. I diced and fried some ham to throw in it, along with some hard-boiled eggs.

The two men sniffed the cooking food—and almost collided in front of the bathroom as they both headed that way. Crème Brûlée snickered from his rug, and I laughed. I imagined that living with Tommy Lee and several children would be the same way, though I hoped to have more than one bathroom.

“Where are the biscuits?” Uncle Saul wiped sleep from his eyes.

“I'm waiting to make them until right before we're ready to go. You know the fresher they are, the better they are. We need them to be the best they can for Alabaster.”

“Good thinking.” He sat at the table, cradling his head in his hands. “I have a hard time sleeping without Alabaster here. I know it sounds crazy, but I love that gator.”

Ollie dropped down on a chair opposite him. “Good thing Zoe's capable of thinking this morning. I hope there are gallons of coffee.”

I put the grits into bowls and set them on the table. “Don't worry. We're not coming home without Alabaster today. It's in the bag.”

“Thanks, Zoe.” Uncle Saul smiled. “I'm glad you were here, even if this whole incident kind of messed up our time together.”

Ollie poured coffee for the three of us. Since I'd made it, it was my special blend of coffee and chicory. He set our cups down before he took a long, slurping sip from his. “Wow! Best coffee ever. Zoe, you are a genius.”

“Thanks.” My face flushed a little. I was grateful for the culinary praise.

The grits were gone almost as fast as the spoons hit the bowls. We didn't talk—only the sounds of eating and Crème Brûlée's snoring interrupted the silence of the early morning.

“That was mighty good.” Uncle Saul sat back and patted his nonexistent belly. “You know your way around some grits.”

“I get it from you.”

He laughed. “No doubt about that, since your mother can't cook a lick. Your father can at least make frozen food in the microwave.”

Ollie took the dishes to the sink. “My mama and daddy loved good food. They both loved to cook. I remember helping them when I was barely old enough to reach the stove. They'd put a chair next to it for me so I could see what they were doing. I still remember how good everything smelled and the smiles on their faces as they tasted what they'd made.”

Uncle Saul and I exchanged glances. It was easy to see that Ollie wasn't a person who usually shared things like that. It had been completely spontaneous.

“Are your parents still with us?” Uncle Saul asked.

“Nah. They both passed years ago. But I still think about them sometimes.” Ollie looked up from his memories and seemed a little embarrassed. “Sorry. We should be getting the truck loaded. We got a gator to save.”