The next day I got a phone call from an English gentleman with a name I didn't recognize. It was Insect Man. He had given the hostess his civilian name. He asked me out for coffee. Coffee turned out to be dinner for six at Dantana's with a famous music producer, a rising comedian, their girl friends, and Yours Truly. I was terrified. Suddenly I realized I had been listening to this guy's music ever since I was fourteen and that he was at least a decade older than I was. That would have made him all of twenty eight, but to my eighteen year old mind that was ancient. Did he know how old I was? Actually it probably didn't occur to him at all. Word on the street years later was that the man had a habit of picking up waitresses when he was in town. See? The fringe benefits just keep adding up! I was miles out of my league. MILES!
He didn't drive so I picked him up at the Chateau Marmont in my dope mobile. It was a perfectly serviceable Honda Prelude except that it had a bad habit of rear ending people. It was full of trash and bits of wardrobe. I might have cleaned it out if he'd indicated I would be driving. Then again I might not. Social genius was not something I'd yet developed. I still haven't, but I do clean out my car once in a while now.
When he answered the door, I just stood there staring. I couldn't understand a word he was saying through his thick English accent and my nerves were so jangled, I seemed to have lost the ability to decipher language.
What happened to coffee?!
Dinner was a disaster.
I nodded and smiled a lot. I don't think I strung together more than a handful of sentences all night. I discovered that I hate Chicken Parmesan. The comedian was thankfully happy to be the center of attention for the evening. He had a new movie coming out, a hot new wife, and he was at the top of his game. It was, sadly, the high point in this man's career. Let's just say he was no Robin Williams.
Big Time Producer Guy sat at the head of the table like the Godfather. His brother was the drummer for a mega famous eighties band. Insect Man couldn't have found a less sophisticated dinner date than me if he'd gone down to Venice Beach and solicited the homeless.
After dinner, we went to The Improv to watch Comedian Guy do stand up. Like the song says, Insect Man doesn't drink or smoke. I wanted large quantities of both in the most desperate way. At the comedy club I ordered a gin and tonic which I inhaled. When addessing the moments in my life that I needed a drink, this one still comes up near the top. Insect Man seemed slightly oblivious to the fact that I was experiencing deep shock. I don't recall much of anything he said to me because I never did find the on switch for my inner interpreter. But I'm pretty sure he said nothing if not nice. OK, I DO remember some things he said to me later on, but that's another memoir that I will write after my parents are dead. Of course I slept with him. What else is a girl to do? I didn't want to leave a bad impression.
Some time later I heard that Insect Man, back from England, came into The Moustache and asked about me. It was too late. While waiting on Pierre, I forgot the sauce bearnaise. Pierre looked at me as if I had just wet myself.
"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING HERE?!"
I was fired the next day.
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