18
Manchester, 1998
The Happy Dragon's quiet and decked out in red and gold. Yunjin sits in the middle of the restaurant. She seems nervous. Checks her watch and sips on a glass of water.
I lurch across the floor of the Chinese restaurant, knocking into tables and chairs. Steadying myself. The waiting staff know me. They know this kind of world. They leave me be and let me approach the table. Yunjin goes to spring out of her seat.
I wave at her to stay put and drop into the seat opposite her, a hand to my side.
“You’re hurt,” Yunjin gasps.
“Only a bit,” I say, reaching for a jug of table water.
Yunjin takes over, pouring me a glass. I down it in one. Cough and splutter. The gunshot wound on fire.
Yunjin’s dessert arrives. A big slice of pineapple cake.
“I’ll have what she’s having
