Why the hell not.
A drink would take the edge off of dealing with the German.
“…alright. Just one.”
“What would you like?” he asked.
“Jiangbei knows.”
I looked over at Jiangbei. She gave me a nod as she began to fix my usual.
Then I saw Han by the bar, smirking and looking like his usual assholish self.
Ugh.
I suddenly felt no desire to socialize.
Still, I had already agreed to a drink…
And maybe I had misjudged the Italian. He seemed pleasant enough.
“Why don’t we sit?” he suggested.
“I’d love to,” I said, and led him to one of the booths set into the wall.
I made some small talk, but it soon became apparent that the Italian wasn’t the best conversationalist. He seemed lost as to what to say – like a schoolboy who hadn’t learned how to talk to girls yet. I could see the wheels spinning in his head as he tried to figure out his next sentence.
I felt for him, but I was also a little bit annoyed.
My job required me to make all my customers comfortable.Iwas the one who always alleviated everyone else’s anxieties upon entering De Sade.
If a man was going to hit on me, the least he could do was not make me carry the conversation – no matterhowhandsome he was.
Luckily, Jiangbei interrupted the uncomfortable silence when she set down my drink.
“Thank you,” I said in Cantonese. She nodded and walked away.
Now that the Italian had something new to discuss, he seemed relieved. We talked about the cocktail for a moment until I asked, “So – what is it that you do, Roberto?”
He paused. “I’m in finance.”
Just like 75% of our Western clientele.
I forced a polite smile. “We have quite a few customers in that field.”
“So you work here?”
I was the manager and part owner, but I didn’t feel like getting into the details. “In a manner of speaking.”
The Italian opened his mouth – closed it – and then opened it again. “I…”
The tongue-tied schoolboy was back.
I waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say.
MaybeYou’re so beautiful.
Which was nice, but after hearing it for the 10,000thtime, it became a bit stale.