I scan the room, searching for the man…. The interior of the juke isn’t as dim as I expected, but it smells like every other one I’ve entered in my life. The first wave of odors confuses the olfactory senses - a strange brew of delicious aromas and suspicious funk. Frying chicken, sizzling lard, baking biscuits, fresh corn bread, and onions battle dead fish, stale beer, old garbage, disinfectant, sugary wine, and cigarette smoke… The flashing jukebox in the corner sends Bobby “Blue” Bland throughout the club with bone-shaking bass.
from Natchez Burning by Greg Iles.