“Musical beds,” says Craigor with a sardonic grin. “Teaching Thuy the facts of life.”

“Little Thuy does whoever she likes,” says Jil in a flat, bitter tone. “Women, men, husbands, wives—she’s playing you for a fool, Jayjay.”

“Oh, that ends it,” says Jayjay dejectedly. “Forget everything I said last night, Thuy.” He turns away.

“But Craigor snuck!” cries Thuy. “This isn’t what it looks like! Craigor carried me here while I was—”

Jayjay closes his eyes and disappears for good.

“Listless bastard,” Thuy spat at Jayjay as the vision wore off. “Always so quick to give up and walk away. Why won’t you fight for me? Don’t you care at all?” The waiter was picking up the money. An old man. He was embarrassed to be overhearing a lovers’ quarrel.

“What’s with you?” said Jayjay, his voice going up an octave. “What’d I do?”

The sounds of the pho parlor filtered back in. Jayjay was staring at Thuy, his brown eyes worried. “I just had a vision,” Thuy said. “One of my characters talking to me. We are definitely not going back to the Merz Boat tonight.”

“Fine,” said Jayjay. “But I’m seeing the attack ant coming down the sidewalk half a block away.”

“I am so sick of being jerked around by that life-hating geek Luty,” said Thuy, the anger still in her veins. On a sudden inspiration, she darted into the restaurant kitchen and asked the prep cook if she could borrow the heavy-duty blowtorch he was using to charbroil some peeled shallots and ginger roots for more stock. “I won’t hurt anyone,” Thuy assured him. “I need to fix something.” The cook was a boy her age, a recent immigrant. She gave him her sweetest smile. Smiling back, he handed her the torch and a lighter.

“Come on, Thuy,” said Jayjay, standing by their table. “The ant’s almost here. We gotta hop. What are you doing with that thing?”

“Teaching the ant a lesson,” said Thuy. She sat down, resting the blowtorch’s gas cylinder between her legs, one hand on the valve, the other hand holding the lighter.

The ant entered on the heels of a pair of hipsters coming in for a late evening meal. They were loudly surprised to have a four-foot-long plastic ant push past their legs like a hungry dog. The diners looked up, some of them jumping to their feet and heading through the kitchen for the back door.

“Here I am,” Thuy shrieked at the ant. “Come and get me, bit-head!”

Jayjay understood Thuy’s plan; he stood behind her, watching with an expectant grin, ready to jump in if things went badly.