THIRTY-EIGHT
Buddha Lounge was rocking a nighttime bar crowd when Vivian, Freddie and Barbara walked in, a little after ten. Hipsters, tourists and Chinatown locals crowded the bar, shouting orders over the jukebox pumping out 80’s pop. Two bartenders, the middle-aged Chinese one with the ponytail Freddie and Vivian had seen earlier in the day, and a younger white man in his 30s, were working opposite ends of the bar and doing their best to keep up with the never-ending stream of orders. The younger man had sandy hair and blue eyes, and he was built like a lifeguard past his prime. He was wearing a Buddha Lounge T-shirt and jeans, and his arms were splashed with tattoos.
“Is that him?” Barbara said, looking at the younger bartender. She was dressed to kill in tight jeans, a halter top an
