He wondered if he had made any mention of his job and found the coincidence of the subject a little disconcerting. He tried to move his thought on, so as not to hold up the evening, but got stuck in this reflection, for a second or two. Money is usually made by people capable of a ruthlessness towards both their own sensibilities and other people’s. They are made of different stuff, able to put themselves through a stress pattern that would finish the sensitive; his work as a lawyer in a hedge fund company, overseeing the legality of acquisition contracts, had indeed revealed many an asset bought and stripped and resold, and people, thousands of people, losing their jobs, all for the benefit of already unbelievably wealthy clients.

His pondering had run its course.

‘I will have…’

A slight pause followed, as if something monumental was about to be said.

‘I will have the Wagyu burger and some fries. Medium rare.’

Was the summation that followed the pause and he had nothing to say to her attack or defence, whichever way you took it. She looked around for the waiter who was no more than six feet away and asked Ever with the most charming deference,

‘Would you mind ordering, my sweet? And I would adore another martini.’

She poured another mouthful down her ruche-bloused throat.

He was now in the authoritative position of commanding both food and drink and concluded the order with two requests of his own.

‘A glass of cabernet, I would be happy if you would make the choice. Full bodied but soft, rounded, please.’

He felt he was describing a physical desire, so moved on.

‘And some San Pellegrino, if sparkling water is your preference?’

‘Fine, my sweet, I won’t be drinking too much water, but the bubbles are fun. Thank you. Oh and—’

She called the waiter back.

‘The dressing on the side, please. Thank you.’

She turned back to Ever.

‘You see in my life, and I have already promised not to talk about the past – but in my experience the shit people have both saved me and destroyed me.’

Ever somehow felt that to ask for qualification on that topic was inappropriate, so he stored it as the third point in his memory bank. She continued.

‘I came here, to LA, I mean, in 1960. My God what a time ago, and in all life, I mean, it depends on who you meet first, or who you know, as to how it all pans out for you. I mean, you come here and get picked up by Billy Wilder or whoever it is now, I don’t know.’

He expected her to say Spielberg but that was too obvious for her.

‘By—’

She continued.