After a restless morning at work, I arrived at the set around noon. The security guard guided me to park behind Dave’s car in a prime spot on the location where Dave was shooting. The crew had been setting up a wedding scene on the front steps of a church on Lanker-shim. They were just finishing up a crane shot that I knew Dave had been worried about. I hung back behind the crew, watching everyone. The lead actor, Bob Bradley, had been a mini movie star in the ’80s, and, after his career had gone nowhere in the ’90s, he found himself on television. Playing Detective Walter Steele on this show, LA Crime Unit, had breathed some life into Bob’s stale career.

They wrapped the scene and Dave spied me hanging back behind some of the equipment. “Hey, why are you hiding? Get over here.”

I’d always felt that being on someone else’s set was almost like being in his bedroom. It was a private place where, as a visitor, you wouldn’t feel comfortable. But I reminded myself that I had been in Dave’s bedroom, a lot. Dave pecked me on the cheek, which was fine—I hadn’t expected any huge PDAs while he was on set.

“Hey, Bob, I want to introduce you to someone . . .”

Looking super rugged and a little more bloated than I remembered, Bob Bradley crushed my hand in his. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, finally. I’ve heard a lot about you from this guy,” he said, gesturing toward Dave.

All this attention from an ex-matinee idol seemed to make Dave a little uncomfortable, because he hustled me over to the catering truck to grab lunch. Only a couple of the other actors were seated there, eating.

“Most of them are on the Zone Diet and get their food delivered, so they stay holed up in their trailers,” Dave whispered.