All in a name

Tom and I are in All Bar One, eating a goat's cheese tart on rocket salad; I hope the goat doesn't mind. I've got my sunglasses on in the overcast and a yellow hoodie flipped over my hair, I look like an idiot. Our waitress is lovely though, Maritzah, she's Spanish and making good use of the fact, Tom is making eyes at her, and I'm fumbling over my words. I sit there minding my own as she clears the plates and gives us the bill, until she stops, pauses and asks, is your name Johnny? Or John? Tom and I exchange glances, he shakes his head in disbelief. Yes, it's John, I reply, how do you know? Ah, a secret, she lilts, and walks off. Before he can open his mouth I tell Tom I haven't a clue. We lay the currency on the bill plate and I put my glass on the notes. She comes back and tries to take the check, I put my hand on her fingers. How did you know? I ask. Hey, she says, I'm trying to work here, let go. Tell me first, I say and we stand off, eyes locked, the first to break loses. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds, her eyes light with charm and I don't stand a chance. I move my fingers and accept defeat. She smiles and leaves, leaving me with nothing but the luxury of unanswered questions.