Ginger's Supper Club.

The entrance to Ginger’s Supper Club was via the back alley of an old-style department store. Melissa ignored the front lobby of the boutique commercial building and made her way down the dustbin-lined side passage and up to a non-descript canopied black door. A tall and imposing black doorman stood waiting by the entrance impassively. Without saying a word to Melissa, he grasped the brass handle and opened the way for her to walk inside. In the years Mel had been coming to Ginger’s she’d never had to say her name or show any sort of evidence of her mother’s membership to the club. The all-knowing doorman, whoever it was that day, simply knew who to let in without a syllable needing utterance. Past the door, the passageway went down a flight of red carpeted stairs and opened into a clubroom that looked frozen in time from the 1930s. Mel nervously smoothed down the pleats of her belted knit dress and made her way to the booth she could see her mother and Mrs Lou occupying. As she drew closer Mel could a third person seated in the corner beside Mrs Lou. It was her son Crawford Lou. A Chinese man-boy in a frat boy uniform. Khakis and a polo shirt popped collar included.

“Mother. Mrs Lou, it’s lovely to see you,” Mel greeted the two Asian ladies.

Her mother stood first and hugged her daughter, feigning an air kiss on Mel’s cheek before picking at her stomach. “Ie-yah! You’re wasting away. You’re not eating! Come, we feed you and fatten you up so that you can have my grandbabies.”

Melissa could only flush red with embarrassment at any mention of babies in front of another Asian youth she was being forcibly matched up with. She attempted to divert the attention away from herself by moving to hug Mrs Lou next.

“Mel-lissa,” Mrs Lou droned, “you must meet my boy Crawford.”

Mel was ushered into the booth on the side with her mother so that she was seated face-to-face with Crawford. It would have been extremely uncomfortable if the attempted matched suitor had bothered to look up from his latest Huawei smartphone and instead only muttered a single, “Hey.”

“Crawford graduated Columbia with an MBA two years ago and is working for Bank of China U.S.A.” Mrs Lou started in on Crawford's dating credentials the minute they were all seated.

“Melissa will be made partner at her law firm within only five years of graduation,” Mel’s mom listed off her daughter’s achievements.

“Awwww,” the other Chinese lady gasped before prodding her son’s forearm. “You hear that? You two would be so good together. You too should swap your Facebook-Instagrams and organise your first date already.” The son ignored his mom and continued to stare glued to his cell phone.

A date with this boy would be even worse than her date with Langston, Melissa thought dreading the idea.

“I can’t!” Mel barked more shrilly than she’d intended. The two women turned to look at her, Crawford looking up for once two. “I’m seeing someone. I have a boyfriend.”

“Oooh-wah! Who is it? What company does he work for? What province are his parents from?” Mel’s mom began rattling off questions.

Mel couldn’t think. “His name’s Vincent. He’s not Chinese. He’s American. Italian-American and he’s a professional athlete.”

Mrs Lou ‘oow’ed appreciatively. “What sport? Baseball? Basketball? Oooh such tall babies!”

“No. None of them. He’s a boxer, but he’s won world titles.” Melissa was panicking. She couldn’t remember whether Alexa had said if Vinny had won any championships or not. She’d been too busy being suspicious of their relationship to listen to what Alexa had said or not.

“You should bring him to the house next week. Introduce him to your father. He used to do Sanshou when he was younger you know.”

Her Mom was never going to let this go. Mel wanted to slide under the table and die. Why did she have to say she had a boyfriend? She’d never mentioned anything of her love life before and this was why. Asian parents were impossible.

Her mom was still speaking to Mrs Lou this time. “You should come to the house too with Crawford. I’ll invite Mrs Yangong. Her daughter just back from Australia. Got very pàng de, but…” Mel’s mother pointed a hand at Crawford after saying the Chinese word for fat, as if accepting a chubby daughter-in-law would be the necessary price to pay for having a son with the social skills of Crawford.

For the next two hours, Mel was excused from the conversation between the two old friends. It was more than enough time for her to wallow in self-pity.