“Yes, sir.”
“You have an office here, no doubt.”
“Why, yes, sir.”
“With a desk and a chair. Probably a padded swivel chair with arms and an adjustable back. A man who is on his feet as much as you are wants a comfortable chair when he does sit down.”
“I do have such a chair, sir, and—while it’s hardly suitable for a dining room—Madame is welcome to it if it pleases her. I’ll send for it.”
“One moment. In a club with so many activities—you have a gaming room, do you not, and other things?—I feel sure that it is possible to round up four such chairs.”
“Uh, I’ll try, sir. Although our other patrons might find it odd if we supply one table with special chairs.”
Mr. Salomon looked around. The place was less than half filled. “Oh, I imagine that if you explained to anyone who asked just how expensive such special service is, he might not want it. Or you might find it possible to accommodate him, too, if he is willing to pay. I think those guards pretending to be waiters standing around the edge of the room can handle anyone who is unreasonable.”
“All our staff are guards, sir—in a crunch. Very well, sir, if you will be patient a few moments your party will all have desk chairs.” Quickly he distributed wine cards and drug lists, and left.
Roberto and Winifred were already dancing. Joan leaned toward Jake again and said, “Jake, will you buy this place for me?”
“Does it attract you that much?”
“No, I want to make a bonfire out of these chairs. I had forgotten what indignities nightclubs expect their customers to put up with.”
“You’re spoiled.”
“I intend to be. Jake, much of what is wrong with this world would be righted if the customer screamed every time he feels cheated. But I’m not out to reform the world tonight; I simply want a comfortable chair. The cover charge—I checked it when I made reservations for ‘Mr. Jones’—is high enough to buy a decent chair. What are these other activities’? A whorehouse upstairs, maybe?”
“Eunice, see those three tables of beautiful people over in the corner? Attractive men and women, all young, all smiles, no frowns, and each with a champagne glass that may hold ginger ale? It’s high odds that, if the Greeks had a word for it, they have a price for it.”
“Why, one of those girls doesn’t look more than twelve.”
“She may not be that old. Who’s going to check on her age, in an Abandoned Area? I thought you weren’t going to reform the world tonight, my dear?”
“I’m not. If the government can’t police these areas, I certainly cannot. But I hate to see children exploited.” (Twin, that pretty child may have an I.Q. of eighty and no other possible profession—she may think she’s lucky. Proud of her job. And seeing where she is, she’s either got an implant or cut tubes—not like that cheerleader I told you about.) (Eunice, doesn’t it bother you?) (Some, chum, but only some. People usually are what they are because it suits them—I learned that from Joe. The girl’s mother may be one of the other pretties there—two gets you seven. Want to rescue them both?) (Oh, shut up, darling; let’s have fun.) (I’m willing.)
A waitress came past, refilled their glasses. She was pretty and was dressed in sandals, cosmetics, and careful depilation. She smiled and moved on. “Jake, is she one?”
“Couldn’t say, I don’t know the house rules. Shocked, Eunice? I told you not to come here.”
“Shocked at skin? Jake dear, you forget that my generation thinks nothing of nudity.”
“Hrrmph! One more remark like that and I’ll call you ‘Johann’ the rest of the evening.”
“I’ll be good. Mostly. Darling, our waitress suddenly reminded me of the Chesterfield Club. Kansas City in the
palmiest days of the Pendergast machine. Nineteen-thirty-four.”
“In nineteen-thirty-four I was barely out of diapers, Eunice. It was something like this?”
“Not as much fake swank and lower prices even allowing for inflation. But otherwise much the same. It specialized in complete nudity even at high noon at the ‘Businessman’s Lunch.’ Just up the street from the Federal Reserve Bank. Jake, she’s headed back. Find out for me.”