It wasn’t exactly her kind of place, but it was close, and they didn’t take reservations.Since the Nineties this part of the Valley had become a hive of office towers, in whose shadow lay apartment complexes aswarm with the suited drones who worked here. I saw dozens of those same drones doing the corporate mating dance as we entered the restaurant’s neo-Egyptian lobby.Val added her name to the waiting list, and was given an electronic pager the size of a large drink coaster. Rather than wait in the lobby, we stepped into the small sports bar where, on a plasma screen high in one corner, the Dodgers were beating the Mets. A few eyes noted our arrival before returning to the game.Val ordered a martini. I got a beer with an offbeat name designed to convince me it wasn’t actually owned by the largest brewery in America—which, Val pointed out, it was. We found a small table, and sat on stools so high one almost needed a stepladder to mount them.“I didn’t think you’d come. Thank you,”
