“It’s honestly fucked that the government lumps poker in with all the other games where you clearly have no control over the outcome. It’s a game of skill, not chance,” Charlie said.
“Kind of tooting your own horn there.”
“Think about it. You have just as much of a chance winning roulette or the lottery as anyone else. But if we sat down and played a game of poker right now, I’d crush you.”
I frowned. “This article says the antigambling laws were enacted to crack down on racketeering.”
“Uh, yeah. We’ve all watchedThe Sopranos. The government figured out a long time ago that gambling and organized crime go hand in hand.”
I made notes to draft a section pointing out Andie’s lack of connection to organized crime. And learn poker and watchThe Sopranos.
Charlie was on calls for the rest of the afternoon. His phone voice filled every square inch of the office. It was the auditory equivalent of manspreading. I tried putting in AirPods, but it was impossible to concentrate.
Two hours later, Charlie got off another call, and I was starting to feel desperate. The hours were slipping by. I needed to focus.
“I reserved the small conference room down the hall. Just need to bang this out,” I said. I hadn’t figured out how to diplomatically saythere are two of us working in here, please shut the fuck up.
“Shit, am I too loud? I swear I talk louder when I’m working,” he said apologetically.
I mimicked an understanding smile. “I don’t think I’d even hear you if I weren’t so focused on nailing this.”
I unplugged my laptop from my monitor and slipped out to the small conference room at the end of the hall.
The clock in the upper-right corner of my monitor read 12:13 a.m. I’d relocated back to our office around 9 p.m. after Charlie texted he was finally heading home. Without looking, I took a distracted bite of the half-eaten protein bar beside me and chased it with cold coffee.
“My first all-nighter,” I muttered, the office feeling still and small. Outside the window, Park Avenue was a clear runway with barely a headlight all the way uptown.
I wanted Eddie to have the memo in his inbox by morning.
I’d spent countless hours reading dozens of New York and federal cases to get a sense of how courts ruled whether something was an “illegal gambling operation.” Everything hinged on whether Andie’s poker games would be considered an illegal gambling business that would put her within the crosshairs of Section 1955. If convicted, she was facing up to five years in prison. I’d made pages and pages of notes, but somehow only drafted a few coherent lines for the memo.
Memorandum
Attorney Work Product
Privileged & Confidential
To: Eddie Kaufman
From: Samantha DeFiore
Re: The Federal Illegal Gambling Business Act (18 U.S. Code § 1955)
A gambling business is illegal under § 1955 if it satisfies the following three criteria:
(i) is a violation of state law in which it is conducted;
(ii) involves five or more persons who conduct, manage, supervise, direct, or own all or part of such business; and
(iii) has been or remains in substantially continuous operation for a period in excess of thirty days or has a gross revenue of $2,000 in any single day ...
Charlie’s words about poker being a game of “skill” kept replaying in my head. I typed “poker: game of chance or game of skill?” into Google. There was a recent news story about a case that centered on that exact question. The court had declared Texas Hold’em, a popular form of poker, a game of skill and thereforenotan illegal gambling business. The ruling was on appeal, and if the higher court upheld the lower court’s decision, we’d have a compelling argument that Andie’s poker game wasn’t an illegal gambling business either. I ended the memoreferencing the Texas Hold’em case. It wasn’t a slam dunk by any means, but it was something.
My phone screen lit up in the reflection of the window. I rubbed my eyes to readjust my contact lenses as I saw Ben’s name.
Hey.
Short, simple, confusing. My mind raced. It was late. Was he drinking? Had he meant to text me?
