“Hey, Mac.” Jackie has called the Hawaiian guy who owns China Express “Mac” for as long as she’s known him. It might be his name, but she doubts it. She has heard others call him Ho and Sam as well as Mac.
“Hello, Jackie,” Mac says. “Where’s your better half?”
“Home, waitin’ on her anniversary dinner.”
“Congrats.” Mac scratches his chin. “How many years you been together?”
“Forty. Minus a few months in the late eighties when she threw me out for bad behavior.” Jackie’s not telling Mac anything he doesn’t already know. She orders spring rolls and fried rice with shrimp and chicken.
While the new kid with the limp makes up the order, Jackie inquires about the poker game going on in the back room. She has forgone poker for the last few years, but always asks who’s sitting at the tables.
"Only one table tonight.” Mac pushes the bowl of free pork crisps toward Jackie. “Bet you can guess who’s parked there.”
“Henry, James Junior, Old Man Chaffee, Bad Madeline?” Jackie takes a pork crisp. Mac nods. They listen to creaking on the back stairs.
“Old Man Chaffee checking on his wife. Swollen ankles. Too much Chinese food.” Mac grunts, as close to a laugh as he gets.