CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Since I’d had some time to kill after leaving the high school, I had gone back to my apartment in West Hollywood for a shower and change of clothes. When I arrived at Olivia Hastings’ apartment at five of seven, she had already dressed and was ready to go. If it had been Sara Bernstein I was picking up for a seven o’clock dinner date, she would have still been in her bathroom in bra and panties putting on makeup.
We had dinner in a place called Mitch’s Fish Shack & Sushi Bar, an upscale oceanside seafood place on the Pacific Coast Highway at Sunset Boulevard in Malibu. Mitch’s was historic beachside dining at its best and had been a symbol of Los Angeles and the Southern California lifestyle since its founding in 1972. They served seafood that was always fresh in generou
