"No, I'm not expecting him, I'm happy to say."
"Why do you say that?"
"I'd rather not discuss Jake with you, if you don't mind."
"You still don't like me, Sam."
"What's your message, please?"
"Tell him I can't see him tonight."
"I can't guarantee he'll get it."
"Oh," Gabby said. "That's bad. I don't want to stand him up without warning."
"Why don't you try the theater? They'll still be rehearsing. He may be there."
Gabby called the Venice Theater. The stage doorman was the deaf, quaint type ... wonderful for anecdote, impossible for messages. After two minutes of patient shouting, Gabby got Tooky Ween on the phone.