Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

those silver-spiked boot toes of hers poked out from beneath the hem, and even though Eulie convinced her to finally ditch the gas station gloves it didn’t really help, considering that she could have palmed a honeydew one-handed.
    The pre-theatre crowds scattered before us like minnows before sharks. Sad to say I began to realize as we left the subway that if the salesladies had had problems believing Chlo to be of the weaker sex, the hotel dicks were sure to size her up as a drag queen the moment we hit the revolving door. Bust the three of us for loitering before we had a chance to corrupt the three-dollar bills that kept the Astor Bar in business. »Follow me,« I said, guiding the gals down 44 th to Schubert Alley. By taking the stage door route I could pass them off as theatre people if anybody asked. Didn’t bump into any watchmen so I steered my escorts into the rear lobby.
    When Times Square became Times Square the poor old Astor was one of the first hotels built, and while it retained a certain raffish charm its glory days weren’t even a memory. You couldn’t have called the joint a flop but it didn’t seem like it’d be that long before they strung up the hammocks. The ceiling was two storeys high, and a balcony ran entirely around the lobby at mezzanine level. There were crystal chandeliers big as a Volkswagen, looked like they hadn’t been washed since the market crashed; the way they swung a little even when you couldn’t feel a draft made you hesitate before doing the mistletoe bit underneath. On the floor were oriental carpets big as a school gym, with long rubber runners thrown over the places two million feet had worn through; near the floor, the walls were full of holes – not rat or mouse holes but where kids had stuck their fingers through the plaster when their keepers had their backs turned. In the past the bellhops would’ve had the dicks lay into the Dynamos with saps if they’d dared to even walk past the place; but you could tell it wouldn’t be long before management finally wrapped its mouth around the gas pipe, and let in sci-fi conventions.
    Doctor Oscar’s flunkies had been hard on the case in preparation for the evening. Not only was his smiling puss hanging down from the balcony in black and white, but they’d stuck one of those chopped-liver busts parked on an oak table in the centre of the lobby. On either side of the grand staircase’s chipped marble balustrades they’d stood up their sandwich boards, the usual eye-catchers.
     
    TAKE YOUR
    MIND
    OFF ITS
    HINGES
     
    SHAKE OUT
    AND SEE
    PERSONALITY
    DYNAMISM UPLIFTS
    AND CLARIFIES
     
    Max Your Po!
     
     
    »Spiritual group?« Eulie asked.
    »Personal growth.«
    She took another gander at the photos of Doctor Oscar. Chlo was tapping the bust with a finger, seeing what it was made of. »Growing how?«
    »This won’t take half an hour,« I said, irrationally optimistic. Working my hand into my left trouser pocket – damn Continental cut of this suit – I felt the tube within its triple-thick sleeve. A couple of lounge lizards ankled past, heading upstairs to the meeting, giving her the fisheye all the while.
    »What’s done here?« Eulie asked.
    »They’re getting together, pressing the flesh. Cats looking out for fresh pigeons. Now let’s go through the drill,« I said. »Remember what I told you, don’t pay attention to anything they say. I listened to ’em once and couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Just turn on the charm and make with the chit-chat, and while you two circulate I’ll handle the dirty work.« Chlo cracked her knuckles by making a fist. »Chlo. You don’t talk. OK?«
    »AO.«
    »Once I’ve done what I need to do, I’ll give you the high sign. Like this.« I scratched my ear. »Then it’s scootsville to wherever it is you want to take me. Believe me, I’ll be happy to go.« Chlo swayed slightly from left to right, rocking on her silver heels. »And ixnay on the swillage. One toddy, no refills.«
    Eulie looked like she’d bit down hard on a lemon. »We’re disalcoholic«
    »Wise decision on your part,« I said, and saw more characters heading up. »Looks like the lambs are ready for the slaughter. Come, ladies, his master’s voice is calling.«
    We made our way to the mezzanine. When we got to the Oregon Room we found ourselves bringing up the rear. At the entrance to the hall two Dynamos were lurking. One was a lantern-jawed Aryan with a blonde crew that was so perfectly flat I