The Stud [antikvár]

oneTONYThere is something very exciting about the beginning of the eveningwell, the beginning of my evening, usually about ten-thirty, eleven o'clock. Every night at 4Hobo' is like a partya great party where everyone knows and likes every-one else.They start coming in slowly. First the ones that want to be sure of a good table, then the watchers. Usually this whole group is stacked neatly out of the way on the wrong side of the room, or if they are really rough, in the back room. We've got a closed membership, but a few manage to find their way in. Then everyone sits around waiting for the swingers, and about twelve-thirty, one o'clock, they start arriving. Golden-haired girls in cowboy suits, Indián gear, boots, backless topless skirt-less see-through dresses. The wilder the better. Their escorts varying from the long-haired mob of rock groups to the latest young actors. Elegant young debs in full evening dress, with chinless-wonder escorts. The older society group. The rich Greeks. The rich Arabs. An odd movie staran odd M.P. or visiting senator. Anybody famous who's in town. Young writers, dress designers, photographers, models. They all come to look and be looked at, and to see their friends. It's like a building excitementreaching a breathless climax at around two a.m. when the room is so jammed you couldn't get anyone else in except maybe Frank Sinatra, and Mick Jagger.It seems ridiculous that six months ago they would hand me a couple of quid and wouldn't recognise me if we passed in the street. Now they couldn't wait to grab hold of me 'Dahling'kisskisskiss'Who's here tonight?' Sly grab if the boy-friend or husband wasn't looking. 'Please don't give us a lousy table like last time'affectionate squeeze and promising look. Then husband or boy-friend steps forward firm handshake; few masculine chummy words, and I hand them over to Franco, swinging head-waiter supreme, who whisks them off to whatever table their position rates. The watchers on one side of the room, the doers on the other. All very neat, the squares with the bread tucked firmly away in the back room.