"Yeah, you're not going anywhere. Look around you. You made quite a scene, Signora San Giovanni. The people expect a good resolution. I'm not allowing you to walk out on me, too. Do you know what that would do to my reputation?"
Her eyes narrow into a squint, and she cocks her head to the side. "I don't care?"
"If you leave me right now, you're fired, Ms. Lee. You've deprived me of my companionship for the evening, so you must make up for it."
"Eww. That sounds hookerish." She tries to shake off my grip again, but I don't let go.
"Well, I've had too much to drink. The least you can do is walk me up to my suite and ensure I don't fall down and break my head open."
Her answer is a grimace of disgust. "You don't look drunk to me."
I plant my palms on the table and lean in until I'm almost hovering over her, and our noses are inches apart. "Care to sniff me, Ms. Lee? I assure you, I smell like expensive English gin."
"This is the thanks I get for trying to save your life, you awful, awful man." She bares her straight white teeth at me.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"Look, man, I watch a lot of TV. I'll cop to that. I'm unmarried, live alone, and only have my Boston terrier for company most nights. I saw your date on America's Deadliest Women. Google her if you don't believe me."
Her nonchalance at having ruined my evening sets my back teeth on edge. I google Rebecca Kane and read the results. According to her IMDb page, she was in a Bruno Mars music video. I pull it up on YouTube and pass my mobile to her.
"Is this why she looks familiar?"
She watches the video for a moment, then frowns up at me. "Pfft, that doesn't even look like her. That chick has black hair. I think that's Zendaya. I'm telling you, Rebecca Kane– if that's her real name– is an assassin."
I snatch my phone back from her. "You are a crazy person, and you've ruined my night. You owe me. Come on and walk me up to my suite. On our way, I'll decide whether or not to fire you." I stand up and hold out my hand. "Hurry up. I want to take a shower. I feel sticky and smell like a World War II first aid kit."
She surveys the room around us and seems to realize that people are indeed watching us as if we were a soap opera, waiting with bated breath for what we're going to do next. "Well, it's not like I can disappoint the fans." She takes my hand and allows me to pull her up. "I'm only walking you up to your suite, don’t try anything."
"Whatever you say, Ms. Lee."