An Unlovely Creature

One night in the early aughts, I was at Club Dragonfly on Santa Monica Blvd. and I saw a grubby old guy in a dark trenchcoat sitting near the fountain.

I had a friend who was a rock star. He was lovely and funny and brilliant. He was a fabulous raconteur, and I delighted in his company. 

I would see him at Hollywood nightclubs, and he was such a big deal, I was always surprised he remembered me. 

He once told me, “Heidi, you’re famous.”

And that left me speechless. I was a nightlife writer for the Los Angeles Times, and I was mostly paid in alcohol.