Black Smoke

Fresh Air

We spotted a roadside sign with the words The Burger Joint spray painted in blue coloring a couple of miles outside Cresington Bay limits. A few miles later, we stopped at an isolated building with the same name pinned on the roof in block letters. It was a small rectangular shack; windows wiped down with fingerprints and smudges still covering certain spots. This felt like a place for patties flipping on greasy grills. Hardly any vehicles were parked nearby, making it feel much more remote.

My stomach growled angrily at me as if saying Feed me, idiot!

"What do you think they serve here?" Melanie asked in a sarcastic way. "I'm in the mood for a banana split!"

"You need to eat real food first," her sister stated.

Dante hopped out once we parked nearby, and the rest of us did the same. "Bro, I could eat triple meat. Maybe the cook can take requests."

"It's a fast food place, not a nightclub," I said. "Let's head inside. Places like these usually have great food."

"Is that why it's so empty right now?" Melanie pointed out. "These people probably haven't had business in a good while. It looks deserted."

"Roadside food joints like these are always overlooked," Dante said as he shook his head at her. "I bet you'll be saying otherwise once you bite into their food."

We walked inside to the smell of grilled onions and fried pickles. Ten or so tables were set up in the center, and a few booths lined up against the windows surrounded them.
Black and white polaroids of past time diners and historical moments hung from the ceiling, including a picture autographed by-.

"Elvis Presley?!" Dante's jaw dropped when he examined the photo of the King posing with a burger clenched in his hand. "This place must've been popular at some point!"

"If only," a female voice spoke. We turned our attention to a young woman behind the counter, a customized menu made of wood, words like The Joint Burger and Grilled Chicken Express expertly carved out in their respective places.

"If only?" Dante asked. "You work here?"

"The name is Lena Dawson."
Lena had short almond-colored hair and light brown eyes. She was close to Vanessa's height and body frame but differed as more of a Southern girl. She wore a tan-colored polo with an apron covering most of it and a name tag attached. "I'm Zayden," I responded. "This is my girlfriend, Vanessa, her sister, Melanie, and my brother, Dante."

Dante cracked a grin. "Yo!"

"Well, I guess welcome to this grease shop! How can I help you?"

Dante cut us off before we could order by pointing back to the King. "Wait, so is this real then?"

"My pops found it online, and some dude came here drunk off his hind dressed in an Elvis costume. There must've been a costume party nearby or something, 'cause he ordered some food, saw the picture, and told us he'd sign it personally." She pointed to another picture hanging nearby. "That's the poser back there. He signed it as well."

Dante cracked a grin once he saw it for himself. "Is this like a little tradition or what?"

"Not really," she answered. "Poppa Dawson kept a small camera in the office by the kitchen. We'd bring it out occasionally if there were something memorable enough to keep hanging around."

I looked around. Pictures with dates of kids' birthday parties mixed with other random events hung from multiple areas. Some were even taped to the walls, creating small collages. February 2003. June 2007. October 2013.

"Your pops is in the back then?" Vanessa asked.

"Wish I could say yes. Unfortunately, he passed three years ago due to natural causes."