Woods Stuart. Dirty Work

Elaine's, late.
A big night – a couple of directors, a couple of movie stars, half a dozen writers, an assortment of journalists, editors, publicists, cops, wise guys, drunks, hangers-on, women of substance, and some of considerably less substance. And this was just at the tables; the bar was a whole other thing.
Stone Barrington pushed his plate away and sat back. Gianni, the waiter, snatched it away.
"Was it all right?" Gianni asked.
"You see anything left?" Stone asked.
Gianni grinned and took the plate to the kitchen.
Elaine came over and sat down. "So?" she said.
She did not light a cigarette. To Stone's continuing astonishment, she had quit, cold turkey.
"Not much," Stone replied.
"That's what you always say," Elaine said.
"I'm not kidding, not much is happening."
The front door of the restaurant opened, and Bill Eggers came in.
"Now something's happening," Elaine said. "Eggers never comes in here unless he's looking for you, and he never looks for you unless there's trouble."
"You wrong the man," Stone said, waving Eggers over to the table, but he knew she was right. For ordinary work, Bill phoned; for more pressing tasks, he hunted down Stone and usually found him at Elaine's.
"Good evening, Elaine, Stone," Eggers said. "Your cell phone is off."
"It didn't work, did it?" Stone replied.
"I gotta be someplace," Elaine said, getting up and walking away. She got as far as the next table.
"Drink?" Stone asked.
Michael, the headwaiter, materialized beside them.
"Johnnie Walker Black, rocks," Eggers said.
"I have a feeling I'm going to need a Wild Turkey," Stone said to Michael...