til late. We could go there, if you'd like." I did not like. I could wel imagine the sort of club Zeppo would belong to. But I feigned enthusiasm. "That sounds like a good idea to me." I looked across to Anna and Marty. "Shal we?" She glanced at him. He had been quiet al evening. I thought he seemed a little intimidated by Zeppo. I took a petty satisfaction from the idea. "Wel ..." he began.
"Come on, let's go," Zeppo coaxed, looking from him to Anna. "We deserve a drink after that. Just one, then you can get a taxi from there. It's practical y on the way. Okay?" Without waiting for a reply he turned and gave the driver fresh instructions. Marty looked at him, then at Anna. They exchanged a smile. It excluded everyone else. I saw Marty put his hand on Anna's knee and give it a little squeeze. When Zeppo turned around again, they were sitting as before.
"Al set. We'l be there in five minutes," Zeppo said. Marty readjusted his glasses.
The club was not quite as bad as I feared. I had been expecting a nightclub, and was relieved when there were neither flashing lights nor loud music. But it was stil very much in keeping with the sort of place I imagined Zeppo to frequent. Garish, brash, and superficial. It was ful of glittering young people, liberal y decorated with enough mirrors to satisfy even the most demanding narcissistic appetite. I felt utterly out of place, and Marty looked it, whether he felt it or not. Zeppo, however, was obviously very much at home.
"Hey, there's some friends of mine," he said, and set off towards a crowded table. We were left to fol ow.
"Have you been here before?" I asked Anna as we made our way over.
"No. I didn't even know it existed." She lowered her voice. "God, is everyone here a model?"
"I'm not." Marty murmered. "I don't think Donald is, either. Do you think they'l serve us?" Anna stared as a striking black girl in a bikini top and miniskirt went past. "I feel positively drab."
"You've no need to," I said. "You put most of these girls to shame." I meant it. Their sharp, characterless looks left me untouched.
Zeppo had already arranged seats for us at the table. "Everyone, this is Anna, Donald, and Marty." He ran through a list of names I immediately forgot. Marty and I received dismissive smiles and nods:
Anna merited more attention.
"I'l get some drinks," Zeppo said, and disappeared without asking what we wanted. The people at the table continued their animated, slightly hysterical conversation as though we weren't there. Only when Zeppo returned did we exist for them again.
"The drinks are on their way." He suddenly seemed bristling with energy. "God, we've just been to the worst dinner party in the world," he announced. The group listened deferential y as he gave an exaggerated account of our ordeal. It was greeted with wild shrieks of laughter. "Honest, I thought she was going to go for me over the mange-tout!" The drinks arrived. I found myself presented with a Mexican beer. "How come you know Zeppo?" a bronzed young man asked Anna.
"Through Donald." She indicated me. "I haven't real y known him very long, though." The young man showed no interest in how long I had known him. He was about to ask Anna something else when Zeppo cut in. "Donald's an amazingly rich art dealer." They looked at me rather more appreciatively. "Anna's lucky enough to work for him. And Marty here's an anthropologist." Marty looked embarrassed as attention switched to him, pinning him like an insect under a microscope. He studied his untouched drink.
"Anthropology? Oh, wow, that must be real y interesting." A vacuously pretty girl stared at him wide-eyed. Her hair was bleached white and cut close to her scalp, contrasting her thick dark eyebrows.
"I've always been fascinated by that sort of stuff. You know, body-language and things like that."
A young man with dreadlocks looked at the others. "Can you believe this?"
"She reads one book and she thinks she's an intel ectual," a blond boy said.
She
"Come on, let's go," Zeppo coaxed, looking from him to Anna. "We deserve a drink after that. Just one, then you can get a taxi from there. It's practical y on the way. Okay?" Without waiting for a reply he turned and gave the driver fresh instructions. Marty looked at him, then at Anna. They exchanged a smile. It excluded everyone else. I saw Marty put his hand on Anna's knee and give it a little squeeze. When Zeppo turned around again, they were sitting as before.
"Al set. We'l be there in five minutes," Zeppo said. Marty readjusted his glasses.
The club was not quite as bad as I feared. I had been expecting a nightclub, and was relieved when there were neither flashing lights nor loud music. But it was stil very much in keeping with the sort of place I imagined Zeppo to frequent. Garish, brash, and superficial. It was ful of glittering young people, liberal y decorated with enough mirrors to satisfy even the most demanding narcissistic appetite. I felt utterly out of place, and Marty looked it, whether he felt it or not. Zeppo, however, was obviously very much at home.
"Hey, there's some friends of mine," he said, and set off towards a crowded table. We were left to fol ow.
"Have you been here before?" I asked Anna as we made our way over.
"No. I didn't even know it existed." She lowered her voice. "God, is everyone here a model?"
"I'm not." Marty murmered. "I don't think Donald is, either. Do you think they'l serve us?" Anna stared as a striking black girl in a bikini top and miniskirt went past. "I feel positively drab."
"You've no need to," I said. "You put most of these girls to shame." I meant it. Their sharp, characterless looks left me untouched.
Zeppo had already arranged seats for us at the table. "Everyone, this is Anna, Donald, and Marty." He ran through a list of names I immediately forgot. Marty and I received dismissive smiles and nods:
Anna merited more attention.
"I'l get some drinks," Zeppo said, and disappeared without asking what we wanted. The people at the table continued their animated, slightly hysterical conversation as though we weren't there. Only when Zeppo returned did we exist for them again.
"The drinks are on their way." He suddenly seemed bristling with energy. "God, we've just been to the worst dinner party in the world," he announced. The group listened deferential y as he gave an exaggerated account of our ordeal. It was greeted with wild shrieks of laughter. "Honest, I thought she was going to go for me over the mange-tout!" The drinks arrived. I found myself presented with a Mexican beer. "How come you know Zeppo?" a bronzed young man asked Anna.
"Through Donald." She indicated me. "I haven't real y known him very long, though." The young man showed no interest in how long I had known him. He was about to ask Anna something else when Zeppo cut in. "Donald's an amazingly rich art dealer." They looked at me rather more appreciatively. "Anna's lucky enough to work for him. And Marty here's an anthropologist." Marty looked embarrassed as attention switched to him, pinning him like an insect under a microscope. He studied his untouched drink.
"Anthropology? Oh, wow, that must be real y interesting." A vacuously pretty girl stared at him wide-eyed. Her hair was bleached white and cut close to her scalp, contrasting her thick dark eyebrows.
"I've always been fascinated by that sort of stuff. You know, body-language and things like that."
A young man with dreadlocks looked at the others. "Can you believe this?"
"She reads one book and she thinks she's an intel ectual," a blond boy said.
She
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