It was John Santino, standing right next to her booth seat. The first thing Paula noticed was that his face was as shiny as Anita had described. Glossy enough that even the dim overhead lamps bounced brightly off his forehead and cheekbones. The man must exfoliate with sulphuric acid and coarse sandpaper to have a complexion like that. Paula couldn’t believe she was distracted in a moment like this, thinking about Santino’s skin care choices.

‘If that guy’s creeping you out …’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Paula replied. ‘I told him I’m waiting for my boyfriend.’

Santino nodded and twisted slightly away from her. Paula worried that she’d discouraged him too much and squandered her chance. But a moment later, he swung back with a charming smile.

‘So are you really waiting for your boyfriend or are you waiting for a guy who isn’t a loser to say hello?’

Santino turned the smile up full bore, like a naughty but adorable kid. This must be his standard manoeuvre and Paula could see how it might work on some people. She responded with a slight smile, wanting to keep him talking. But then she found that meeting this man’s gaze made her nauseous, so she quickly looked down at the tabletop.

He interpreted that as a coy, flirtatious move by Paula—an invitation of sorts. So now he sounded even more confident. ‘I mean, I’ll cruise out of your way if you like … or I could buy you another drink.’

Paula froze. This was exactly what she had hoped might happen, but now that she found herself here she felt too panicky to follow through.

‘Oh, I get it,’ muttered Santino, suddenly sulky, offended. ‘You saw me on TV. That’s why you won’t have a drink with me.’

‘Sorry? I don’t know what … Are you on TV? Sorry. I don’t really watch TV so I never recognise famous people.’

Santino’s mood bounced back again, like a kid who flipped between petulance and exuberance in a flash. ‘Cool. You don’t watch TV, but I see you do drink—what is that? Bourbon?’

Paula nodded.

‘I’ll get us a couple more.’

She watched him walk over to the bar. Compared to other men in the place, Santino was attractive in a certain way, with a handsome enough face, meticulous haircut, good jeans, expensive leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, tailored shirt chosen to indicate the well-muscled physique underneath.

He returned to the table with a bourbon for her, a double bourbon for himself. They clinked glasses and Paula sipped at it cautiously.