The Jacket

part 1

We stumbled through Liquor Locker gathering supplies; a couple bottles of Veuve, a case of Peroni, a bottle of Titos and a few Pellegrino’s. Two packs of Parliament lights. He paid. We hopped in the Uber black and wove up the veiny streets of the Hollywood hills to my little treehouse at the top of Kirkwood, in Laurel Canyon.

I thought there would be another car waiting there for us, more people. All the friends to whom we had said, “See you in a minute,” and they said, “See you in a minute,” back at The Chateau. I was going to have an after party. But there was no other car, and I realized… we were the after party. It was just the two of us. We got ditched, or perhaps he had told his friends not to come.

Now, I was stuck with this guy. A stranger. No big deal, usually. I partied with strangers all the time. But this stranger was a dud. Of everyone I’d met that night, he was the worst one. A super conservative, banker dude, who lived with his wife and three towhead kids in Monaco, of al…