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The door swings open, a group of half a dozen entering. Young guys, already looking tanked on beer…
Stag party?
… loud as they enter. Stefano escorts them to the empty table. Benito brings menus, takes drinks orders.
The table grow louder, rowdier, one of the party jabbing a finger across to his companions. “So, I fucking told him…”
Other customers turn toward the lout. They don’t pay for this in the background. The yobs continue their yelling, growing louder, more boisterous.
I look to catch Romano’s eye. Katya’s sliding sidelong looks at the table, shifting in her seat. Romano head-jerks me across to handle it.
I stroll across, paint on a polite expression. “Excuse me, but could you lower your voices, please. You’re disturbing the other diners.”
Some turn away, muttering. One grins at me, his speech slurring. “Oh, yeah… Sorry.”
“And mind your language. There are ladies present.”
He waves a hand carelessly. “Just said yes, didn’t I.”
Every syllable oozing sincerity…
I’ve barely turned my back, when, “Anyway he wouldn't fucking shut up, so I…”
This time, moving close in, I lean down, propping myself on a fist beside him, trying not to inhale his alcohol-soaked breath. “I said, calm down. You're upsetting the other customers.”
Loudmouth’s face reddens and he sways back. “Er, yeah. Sure. Sorry.” The group drop their voices and after a moment, I turn away.
From across the floor, Romano beckons me. I make my way across. “Sir?”
He chin-jerks toward the louts. “Problem?”
“I don’t think so. Just had too much booze before they got here.”
He pats Katya’s hand. “You see. Don't you worry about anything. Any more trouble and I'll send Hickman back there after them.” He snorts. “One shot of his ugly face and they'll run a mile.”
The ugly face flushes. “I’ll return to my post then, sir.”
But Katya speaks up. “Don't be so rude, Leone…” Her smile turns on me, her words warm… “Ignore him, Hickman. You're a handsome man, in a rugged kind of way. I think so anyway.”
My throat tightens. “You're too kind, Miss Masterson. I know my looks are against me.”
She blinks. “Really, Hickman…”
A bloom heating my neck, I’m already retreating to the safety of my niche.
Barely half-way across the floor, and it starts up again… “And I told that fucker that if he doesn’t like it, he can…”
And I've had enough. Spinning on my heel, I march back to the table. Emilio’s there before me, looking distressed. “Signori, you must leave.”
Loudmouth’s chair scrapes back as, colouring up, he stands, looming over the much smaller man. “And who's going to make me?”
I stretch an arm against Emilio’s chest, easing him back. “I will. You’ve been asked politely. Will you leave quietly or not?”
He lurches, blasting me with beer-and-whiskey-breath. “We’ve not had our food.”
“And you won’t be getting it. Not here. Now, go. And take your friends with you.”
He hunches. “Well, yeah, okay. Sorry.”
