A couple of hours later, he and Malaya headed to town in Billy’s beat-up old Chevy truck. His shoulders still ached a little from swinging the axe half the morning, but Malaya had rubbed most of the pain out, her silver bracelets tinkling, soothing his ears while she soothed his muscles. For a tiny little thing, she had strong hands.
Shame she couldn’t do the same for his trick knee.
“What all you want with your deer steak?” he asked Malaya as they went down the curvy road. “Salad? Corn?”
She shrugged. “I make pancit palabok, if you like.”
Shrimp noodles. Billy loved them. Malaya made the dish a couple of times a month and he always ate too much.
“Sounds great, Mal.” Billy said. He hoped the Piggly Wiggly had some rice noodles. It just wasn’t the same with spaghetti.