Live And Let Die - The boneyard

At twelve forty-five Bond and Leiter paid off their cab and walked in under the sign which announced 'The Boneyard' in violet and green neon. The thudding rhythm and the sour-sweet smell rocked them as they pushed through the heavy curtains inside the swing door. The eyes of the hat-check girls glowed and beckoned. 'Have you reserved, Sir?' asked the head waiter. 'No,' said Leiter. 'We don't mind sitting at the bar.' The head waiter consulted his table-plan. He seemed to decide. He put his pencil firmly through a space at the end of the card. 'Party hasn't shown. Guess Ah cain't hold their res'vation all night. This way, please.' He held his card high over his head and led them round the small crowded dance-floor. He pulled out one of the two chairs and removed the 'Reserved' sign. 'Sam,' he called a waiter over. 'Look after these gem-mums order.' He moved away. They ordered Scotch-and-soda and chicken sandwiches. Bond sniffed. 'Marihuana," he commented. 'Most of the real hep-cats smoke reefers,' explained Leiter. 'Wouldn't be allowed most places.' Bond looked round. The music had stopped. The small four-piece band, clarinet, double-bass, electric guitar and drums, was moving out of the corner opposite. The dozen or so couples were walking and jiving to their tables and the crimson light was turned off under the glass dance-floor. Instead, pencil-thin lights in the roof came on and hit coloured glass witchballs, larger than footballs, that hung at intervals round the wall. They were of different hues, golden, blue, green, violet, red. As the beams of light hit them, they glowed like coloured suns. The walls, varnished black, mirrored their reflections as did the sweat on the ebony.