“We need to change,” JoJo says to Joe when he comes home from work. “My parents have invited us to dinner.”

“Oh? That was nice of them. What’s the occasion? What are they having?”

“They just want to see us, silly. And they’re not having anything. It’s at that new Chinese place downtown. Vinnie’s?”

“Sounds more Italian.”

“Mom said Chinese.”

“Maybe it’s Winnie’s.”

“Is Winnie’s more Chinese than Vinnie’s?”

“It a joke. The Chinese can’t say V.”

“Really? Are you sure about that? I thought it was R the Chinese couldn’t say.”

“One of those. Although I don’t think of the Chinese as having much of a sense of humor.”

“You don’t?”

“Well, I don’t remember ever seeing a Chinese person laugh.”

“Maybe they laugh on the inside.”

“Of course I don’t remember ever seeing a Chinese person cry, either. I do remember one Chinese place we used to go to as a kid. Family dinners—choose four from column A and four from column B. Do you think Vinnie’s will have columns?”

JoJo did her eyeroll smile. “Hop in the shower, honey bunny. The reservations are at 6:30.”

“Awfully early.”

“It’s late for my parents. You know they usually eat at five.”

“It they didn’t have columns, what would hold the place up?”

“Hop in the shower.”

“That was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh. So I can compare your laughter to Chinese laughter.”

“Ha ha. Now move. If you’re a good boy and hurry, you can help me with column A.”

“What’s in column A?”

“Appetizers.”

§

“Not too much,” JoJo says.

“I just need to work it in a little,” Joe answers. His forefinger, wet with perfume, caresses the underside of JoJo’s nipple. “Does it tingle? It looks like it tingles.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“I still have to do the other one.”

“It’s better if you just do one.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’ll tell you later. Now let’s go.”

“Okay, okay.”

“It does tingle,” JoJo says as they’re getting in the car. “It’s tingling like crazy. I like your appetizers.”

“Nice,” Joe says once they’re seated at the bench table, he and JoJo on one side, her parents on the other, the heavy white linen tablecloth between them. He holds JoJo’s hand. “Is the art real?”

“I’m sure it is,” say JoJo’s mother.

“Art is never real,” says JoJo’s father. “That’s what makes it art.”

“All art is real,” says JoJo.

“I’m hungry,” says JoJo’s father, reopening his menu. “I hope the moo goo is good.”

§

The food is good—steaming from silver bowls upon silver trays— hot, spicy, sweet and sour. Colors bright mixed with mild. Orange, white, red, green. Delicate rice, delicate tea. Textures crunchy yet yielding. Flavor foreign yet familiar.

“The food shouldn’t be too good,” JoJo’s mother says. “Otherwise it detracts from the conversation.”

“The conversation shouldn’t be too good,” JoJo’s father says. “Otherwise it detracts from the food.”

JoJo smiles.

Nothing could detract from JoJo’s smile. Joe takes another sip of wine. He’d picked that lipstick because once she’d told him that it was the same color as his cock in her dreams.

As if she’s privy to his secret thoughts, JoJo slides her hand along his thigh. Under cover of the tablecloth her fingertips caress him to erection.

“See,” she says to Joe, “there are columns in this restaurant.”

“Mm,” Joe says.

“Where?” says JoJo’s dad. “I don’t see any columns.”

JoJo says, “Could you pour me some more tea, honey? I love Chinese tea. It tastes like quiet laughter.”

Joe reaches for the little teapot.

“Pour it slow,” JoJo says. She strokes him slowly while he pours. The tea comes out in dribbles. “That’s it,” JoJo says. “It’s better when it’s slow. And I wouldn’t want you to spill. I wouldn’t want you to stain this nice linen.”

“I wouldn’t have thought tea could be poured that slowly,” JoJo’s mother says. “Would you like me to pour you some, dear?”

“I’m not much of a tea man,” JoJo’s dad says.

The food is very good.

§

“Coffee for me,” JoJo’s father says as the meal winds down.

“We’ll share a glass of plum wine,” JoJo tells the waiter.

“What a good idea,” JoJo’s mother says. “How about it, Hank?”

“Naw, just coffee. Black.”

“You can share some of ours,” Joe tells his mother-in-law.

“Isn’t he sweet?” JoJo says.

“I only need a little,” JoJo’s mother says.

“Just a little is enough to make you tingle,” JoJo says.

“Tingle, huh,” JoJo’s dad says. “Maybe I will have some. Make that plum wine all around.”

“That was a nice dinner,” JoJo says in the fire station parking lot next to their car. “Did you like it?”

“Mm,” Joe agrees. “Your parents are looking well.”

“You’re awfully sweet tonight,” JoJo says. “Because you’re so sweet I’ll let you share my fortune.”