“You’re telling me—”
They both nodded and laughed.
“Your bracelets. . .” He gestured toward her silver cuffs.
“Huh?”
“I heard about those from Ella long before I ever met you.”
Casey blushed. Except when she slept, she never took them off. She’d forgotten about them.
“Where’s your invisible plane?” Unu chuckled, imagining Casey in the Wonder Woman outfit. Her boobs weren’t as big as Lynda Carter’s, but they looked good as far as he could tell. Her dress had an open neckline, but he couldn’t see anything. He felt a little warm. It had been a long time since he’d felt attracted to a girl. “And where’s your truth lariat?”
She laughed again. Both Hugh and Walter glanced her way. They would no doubt tease her on Monday.
The clients looked happy to play by themselves, so Hugh got up from his chair, leaving his napkin on his seat. He wanted to go to the men’s room, but along the way, he passed Casey’s table. He stopped and draped his long arms across the back of her chair and Unu’s.
Hugh winked at Unu. “Is she still obsessing about the seventeenth hole?” He pointed at her with his thumb, his remaining fingers making a loose fist. “She’s quite competitive, this one.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Unu said.
Casey flicked her napkin at him.
“Did you know that Casey is my cousin’s best friend?” Unu asked without taking his eyes off her.
Casey smiled. That’s what Ella must’ve told him—that Casey was her best friend.
“Oh? You didn’t tell me, Casey Cat.” Hugh faced her. Another charming smile.
“You didn’t ask,” Casey replied, wincing a little at the nickname. “Besides, we Koreans all know each other. There aren’t that many of us, you know.”
Hugh raised his hand. “The white guy has an ethnic joke.”
“Shoot,” Casey said.
“Why did God invent WASPs?”
“Dunno,” she answered.
“Somebody has to pay retail.”
Casey raised her wineglass at him. “Well done.”
Unu, the male Texan, didn’t get it.
“By the way, thank you, Hugh, for paying my gambling debts,” Casey said.
“I wish someone would pay mine,” Unu said.
They all laughed; then Hugh headed to the john.
Casey watched Unu eat his steak. He’d coated the meat with a blanket of black pepper.
“Steak au poivre?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Needs go-chu-jang.” He said this like a dare, waiting to see what she’d say.
It was a test of sorts, but Casey didn’t flinch. “Tabasco would work nicely, too.” She’d never met a Korean who added the chili pepper paste to steak, but on reflection it didn’t sound so awful.
She didn’t know for certain if he was attractive to her. He wasn’t at all like Ted, who was traditionally handsome. Ted could have been cast in a Korean soap opera. He also had a brute quality that women liked. In contrast, Unu had a kind face, and she liked the way he looked at her with a kind of wonder and privacy. His eyes were so focused and attentive. Unu seemed fully engaged with what she was saying. She felt almost pretty near him, and she liked seeing his face, how familiar it looked to her. Especially around the brow and eyes, he resembled Ella exactly. With him there, she felt less lonely in the room. As though she had an ally. It wasn’t just because he was Korean. When she spent any time with Ella and Ted, even when Ted wasn’t being a jerk, she felt separate from them, as if they were members of some improved world, where every pot had a lid.
Earlier tonight, while she’d dressed for dinner, she’d had a hard time remembering what Unu’s face looked like—whether his face was wide or narrow or if his nose was rounded or straight. As she listened to him talk a bit about his work, she tried to memorize his features, the way his hair fell across his tanned forehead and how when he smiled he looked joyful. She envied him all of a sudden, wanting that smile without restraint. His eyebrows were inky, and she touched her own—they were so sparse in contrast. Korean guys had always made her feel so rejected, even more so than whites （there were just so many more white guys wherever she was）， but tonight there was a wonderful Korean guy talking to her, and she could barely concentrate. Then she had to admit it: He was attractive. She wanted to kiss him.
He told her that he gambled. A lot. This revelation surprised Unu himself. He rarely told anyone this, fearing rebuke, but Casey didn’t seem judgmental like other girls. She didn’t behave like a woman casting about for a husband, clutching a laundry list of desirable male characteristics. The prospective groom questionnaire was familiar to him: education, family background, job, earning potential, and so on. But being divorced had freed him from that racket. Unu didn’t intend to get married again. He was done with romance and the idea of forever. Perhaps he told her about his Friday night gambling binges to see her reaction.