“Hi, this is Grant Katz. I’m a friend of Bernie’s. I think you’ve been warned that I’d call. Well, anyway, give me a call back and let’s see if we can set up a time and place to meet.”

Even though I’d checked the messages just a few minutes after he phoned, I did what any woman would do: I waited two days to call him back. Because it was summer, we had occasional weeklong breaks from shooting, to let the staff catch up on writing and posting shows. So I could be pretty flexible about getting together. After another round of returned calls and messages, I was in my car on a Wednesday night, heading toward Sushi on Sunset for my first meeting with Grant.

I went over in my head what I knew about him. I had Googled him and the whole thing was looking promising. He had written for the Harvard Lampoon and somehow had ended up on The Simpsons as one of the writers and producers. I also found out that he was thirty-three, which was okay. He wasn’t so old that you’d think there’d be a problem with him (like, what was wrong with him that he never settled down), but he was over the initial I’m-successful-in-Hollywood-and-am-going-to-nail-everything-in-sight phase.

I checked my lipgloss in my rearview mirror as I waited for the valet to open the car door. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. I’d only thought about my outfit for an hour. I finally settled on a skirt, short but not too short, and a sleeveless mock turtleneck in baby blue that would bring out my eyes. I’d thrown a matching cardigan over my shoulders, hoping it looked effortless.

My car door opened and I carefully slid my legs to the left, with my knees firmly glued together. Then I stepped out. Valet guys never thought anyone was hip to them sneaking a snatch peek as women exited their cars. Usually women were so busy juggling their purse and cell phone and grabbing the valet ticket that they left themselves vulnerable for a few seconds, while the valet guy angled his head down for a prime view of her real estate. I could tell by his disappointed look that I’d foiled his plan. Smiling, I took the ticket and walked past him into the restaurant.