The big one opened his mouth to say something and I glanced at the American. He was watching me, his face a mix of surprise and amusement and something else, just under the surface. He was the ticket here, and he knew it. If he tried to argue, they’d all join in, and then Rachel would get involved and word would get back to Lenny, and likely the newb or I would end up in trouble. I gave him a look, a silent plea for help from a damsel in distress. His eyes dropped, and for a moment everything went silent.

‘What about—’

‘Leave it, Pete,’ the American cut him off. ‘Didn’t you say there was a tequila bar somewhere around here?’

Pete hesitated, then shrugged, pulling a credit card out of his jacket pocket and holding it out to me.

I didn’t reach for it. I wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable game of keep-away. Instead, I looked to the American again as he finished his beer. One eye flickered closed over the bottle.

Finally, Pete sighed and put the card down on the table. I picked it up and scanned it, wordlessly holding the machine out for his pin number.

When the receipt finished printing I folded it under his card and handed it back, standing aside as the four of them slid out of their booth. Pete was easily a foot taller than me, but his face dropped right down to mine as he passed. ‘Whore.’ His breath smelled like stale beer and onions, and I sucked the insides of my cheeks. The American was last, inching out behind me, and he said something too but I didn’t know what it was, felt something against my palm as he brushed past.

I didn’t exhale until the door swung shut, but when I did it was like all the air and sound flew back into the void, the music and the hum of conversation from the other tables and from the kitchen, an impatient bell. Emma was clearing a table, and the newb was just standing at the register, staring out the front windows. I tried to catch her eye but she seemed determined not to let me.

I looked at the door. They were gone, but I didn’t know where. For all I knew they were waiting just out of sight. For all I knew they’d still be there when I left in an hour. They were the type. Entitled. Mean. Maybe more. I closed my eyes, but that just gave the Thoughts more of a hold. ‘Fuck,’ I swore under my breath.

I turned, heading back to the bar, heart thundering in my chest. As I passed the register I glanced down at the hundred-dollar note and business card in my hand.

‘All yours,’ I said to the newb, softly, slipping the hundred between her fingers. My voice trembled.

She stopped. ‘Hey, I don’t—’