Los Angeles weather in late September was mid-July weather everywhere else—dog’s-mouth hot, sweat-through-yourantiperspirant hot, car-exhaust hot. Gabby seemed better than the previous night, but Darren and I were on our toes.

Gabby said she was going for a walk and, trying to make sure she wasn’t alone, I suggested she and I get ice cream at the artisanal place on Sunset.

We sat on the outside patio so the noise would mask our conversation. I poked at my strawberry basil ice cream while she considered her wasabi/honey longer than she might have a week ago.

“It’s good money,” she said, trying to talk me into a Thursday night lounge job....