About half a dozen people were waiting for the bathroom. No famous faces, though. If I was going to wait in line to escape that guy, I should probably try to really go, I reasoned, so I stood there, won-dering what Troy was saying to Jennifer.

I could hear the two guys behind me in conversation. “Let me tell you—first class sucks. It’s gotten to the point where I really can only stand to fly privately. So I called up Bob and said, ‘Fuck you, if you won’t let me have the plane.’ Ratner goes all over town bragging about how he has it at his disposal? I mean, Rush Hour was a long time ago.”

“You should definitely have priority over him,” said the other guy.

“No shit.” His eyes swept the room, flickering over all the beautiful women, and he changed the subject to something important. “Dude, this party is total lace.”

“I know, man, but I didn’t realize that Drew has turned the big uh-oh three-oh.”

“Yeah, she’s about to expire like spoiled milk. I remember jerking off to her in that ET movie when I was a kid.”

“Dude, me too! Give me some high . . . now give me some low.” They slapped hands and I surmised that they were both gay.

Troy interrupted. “Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m so ready.”

“What, were you not having a good time?” he asked, steering me toward the front door and our freedom. “I know Miranda is a little eccentric.”

“Oh, it’s not her. Just weird guys hitting on me.”

“I bet that happens all the time. I’d think you’d be used to it.”

He was being really charming. If only he were like this all the time. Fortunately, I was getting used to his bouts of distraction.

The Valet of the Dolls driver pulled up in Troy’s Range Rover. I checked my watch and saw it was after eleven. There wasn’t a lot we could do.

“Okay, now I have to make all this up to you.” He was smiling as he grabbed the wheel. “Well, we’ve certainly done the high thing already tonight—how ’bout going for a little bit of the low?”

“The low?”

“Yeah. I’ll take you to one of my favorite bars. We’ll have a drink and relax—it’s not Hollywood at all, no one will bother us. That is, if you don’t mind divey places?”

“No, I love divey places. I’m in.”

“Great.”

He drove back toward Capo, where my car was still parked, and made a turn into a driveway a few blocks down.

“Have you ever been to Chez Jay?”

“No, I don’t really come down here to the beach that often.”

“You’ll love it. It’s great.”