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“Your loss” He lifts one and repeats the process “They’re the best”

“I was hoping for hot chicken”

Nodding, he slides off the stool and fishes in his wallet, taking cash and leaving it on the bar “I know the best place for hot chicken Let’s go”

“Right now?” Glancing back, I take one last sip of my beer and follow hi patrons to the sidewalk I get hung up by a waitress carrying a huge platter of food, and when I get outside, he’s waiting, lighting up a cigarette

My nose wrinkles again as he exhales a strea else, you know it? Have you always been a ball buster?”

“I’m not… It’s just… It’s such a terrible habit”

We’re walking up South Street toward sixteenth, and I try to think of so firing me?”

He takes another pull and grins “Nah, I think we’ll keep you on for now”

“Where is this chicken place? Prince’s is in SoBro”

“Prince’s is closed on Sundays We’re going to my place”

I stop walking, and he takes a few steps before turning to look back at me “What?”

“Your place?”

“I played pickup with Donald Prince I know the recipe”

My ar “I don’t believe you”

“You think I’ you back to my place on the promise of hot chicken?”