I’m not here to have opinions

I keep thinking, Rib-eye steaks, and what do you know? Lil’ Spanky actually comes by. “Just Billy now,” he tells us, shaking Thomas’s hand. “But look at this! Big boss right here!” he says.

Thomas shrugs. He’s in a rayon shirt and cuffed slacks he ordered from a back-alley tailor in Little Saigon.

Billy’s still holding Thomas’s hand as he says to me, “Back in the day this fool was at a Motel 6! Running fingers through the carpet for rocks!”

“Yeah,” I say. “That probably explains a lot.”

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