Eventually I got tired of talking to strangers and went back into the kitchen to see if October needed any help, but she waved me off, and I could tell by her demeanor that the last thing she wanted to be doing was entertaining a houseful of people. Cal strolled in a second later and put his arms around her. She whispered something to him that I couldn’t hear, and he rolled his eyes and said, “I dare you to have a good time tonight,” before grabbing a couple crackers and walking back into the living room.

Diego was sprawled underneath the table, either hiding from the partygoers like I was or waiting for someone to drop food. He looked up at me, and I fed him a slice of prosciutto. After that he followed me to the couch, where he sat at my feet and kept me company until October told everyone to go outside and sit down for dinner.

I ended up with the tall African-American man on my left and Loring’s wife, Bea, on my right. Model Claire sat directly across from me, Carla next to her.

“Are you a musician too?” Claire asked, and I knew that listening to her talk for too long would’ve turned me into a serial killer.

I told her I was not a musician, but Cal, who was at the head of the table, waved his napkin in the air like he was trying to shoo away a swarm of mosquitoes and said, “Don’t listen to him! He’s the single greatest guitar player you’ve never heard of!”

That egged Claire on, and she began asking me more questions—the kind I hated, like where I was from and what kind of music I played. In an effort to get her to leave me alone, I turned and asked the man on my left the same dumb questions, which turned out to be the most amusing part of the whole night. I had assumed he was someone with whom Cal worked, maybe a band member or a roadie, and when I asked him what he did, the entire table went silent.

“I play basketball,” he answered softly.

“Professionally?” I asked. He did seem tall, but not as tall as Cal, and certainly not as tall as I imagine basketball players to be.

Once the guests realized I was serious, laughter erupted. Then Guy explained, at volume ten and with an offensive amount of disbelief regarding my knowledge of sports, that the gentleman on my left played for the Golden State Warriors and was arguably the greatest point guard in the NBA.

I didn’t know what a point guard was, but I congratulated the man. Claire then announced that she wasn’t into sports either, as if that inextricably linked the two of us, and Cal immediately came to my defense like he used to when we were kids.