Dragon House Read Online Free PDF

someone managed to connect four of their pieces in a row, winning the game. Mai was worried, because her friend, Minh, seemed to be losing to the visitor from Sydney. And the fate of an American dollar rested on the outcome of the match.
    “Don’t be a twit,” the Australian woman said to her companion as he prepared to drop his black piece. “He’s got too bloody much happening on the other side. You’d best put a stop to it right away.”
    The traveler pondered his move.
    Minh hoped that he wouldn’t listen to the woman, for she was right. Scratching a bug bite with his good hand, Minh tried to slow his breath, to hide his anxiety. To the Australians, the game was a way of passing time; to Mai and Minh a win would feed them for a full day. Better yet, a win would almost ensure that Loc wouldn’t beat Minh for his failure.
    “What you going to do, mister?” Mai asked in broken English, twisting a plastic ring that she’d found earlier in the day, not used to the feel of it on her finger. “Maybe I fall asleep before you make next move. Same, same as last game.”
    The Australian glanced at his watch. “Christ, it is getting a wee bit late. If we’re going to find a pub, we’d better leave.” He dropped his piece into a slot far away from where Minh had done most of his work.
    “You’re a bloody idiot,” the woman griped, shaking her head.
    Five moves later, Minh was victorious. He nodded to the foreigner and, unsmiling, took the greenback.
    Mai emptied the game board of pieces. “One more game, mister? I bet you lucky this time.”
    “Against that little bugger? Not a chance.”
    “He lose already two time today. You can beat him. Sure, sure.”
    The Australian stood up. “I reckon we’d best be off. Maybe tomorrow we’ll have at it again.”
    Minh and Mai watched the foreigners depart. The woman had consumed several soft drinks, and Mai handed Minh a half-empty glass of Coke. “He was good, wasn’t he?” she asked in Vietnamese. “Except for that last game. He was way too frustrated to win that one. I’ve seen policemen with more patience.”
    Minh nodded, sipping the sweet drink, savoring the taste of sugar.
    “Another dollar and we can quit,” Mai said, tapping her foot against a chair leg. “Should we wait outside the Sheraton? Or Reunification Palace? Or Q Bar? Remember the last time we were there? Was that just two nights ago? You won seven dollars. Remember that? The night was perfect and everyone came outside. I sold four fans and you . . . you, Minh the Conqueror, won almost every game. What a night that was. Let’s go back there. Maybe we can find a game with someone who wants revenge. They should all be nice and drunk by now.”
    Minh finished the Coke, pleased that Mai was happy with his winnings. He nodded again and then began to put away his game.
    A waitress strode over to their table. “Was he good tonight?”
    “When isn’t he good?” Mai replied, leafing through her thin stack of bills and handing the woman two dollars. She’d have preferred to give her an equal amount of Vietnamese dong, but everyone coveted American dollars, which were more stable.
    “Huy wants three,” the waitress said, gesturing toward a uniformed man standing behind the bar. “He says if you can’t pay that, you need to find somewhere else to play.”
    Mai started to reply angrily but realized that the woman’s eyes contained sympathy, not greed. And so Mai handed over an additional greenback. “Maybe if Huy paid as much attention to his customers as he does to us, he wouldn’t need another dollar,” she replied, knowing that after Loc took his cut, only a dollar would remain for Minh and her.
    The woman shrugged, pocketed the money, and left. Mai muttered to herself, checking her bag to ensure that none of her fans had fallen out. “Let’s go,” she said, “before the tourists spend all their money.”
    Minh took a final glance at the bustling city below. He then lifted the battered