“I’m fine if you want to go. But just be careful. Optics are everything. If people are taking drugs, you should leave.”
“I’ll scope out the scene and leave if I see anything sordid.”
He looked satisfied. “I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
I emailed Lawyers Travel to reschedule my flight for Sunday morning.
The next morning, I woke up early and went over notes from the witness interviews by the hotel pool. At noon, I went back to the room, showered, and quickly changed into jeans and a blazer. I figured the basics would be passable. I’d never been out in the real world with Andie, but I could only imagine the glamour disparity between Andie’s crowd and mine. Besides, I was going as Andie’s defense lawyer. I wanted to be taken seriously. If anything, I was worried about coming off as uptight.
It took over an hour to get to Malibu. I could have been relaxing or taking in the coastline along the Pacific Coast Highway, but instead, my mind was two thousand miles away, reliving the regret of sleeping with Ben. It felt like my small studio apartment, once symbolic of the new person I wanted to be, was the scene of an emotional crime.
The Uber dropped me off in front of a dirt road, and I quickly texted Andie that I’d arrived. Less than a minute later, a four-wheeler appeared, driven by a woman in ripped jean shorts and a bikini top. She gave me a quick nod before taking me up a winding, wooded driveway.
The trees eventually parted to reveal a palatial glass beach house overlooking the Pacific. Andie was waiting outside.
“This is unreal,” I said, before I could filter myself.
She looked amused. “Leah’s mother-in-law is a famous clothing designer. I’ll let you figure out which one.”
Andie led us through the house to an outdoor bar with panoramic views of the Pacific next to an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the beach below.
“1942?” she asked.
I had no idea whose house this was or what the people would be like. I looked around and recognized several faces: an actor fromEntourage, a Victoria’s Secret model, and a few others I recognized but couldn’t place.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the most beautiful woman I’d seen in real life approached Andie from behind, wrapping her long, graceful arms around her neck.
“You came!”
Andie turned around and squealed. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
She turned and grabbed my hand as if we were the oldest of friends.
“Leah, this is Sam. She’s my defense attorney from New York. She’s out here for work. She wants to work in the film business, so I told her she had to come meet people.”
Leah took my other hand and held it in hers.
“Sam. I’msoglad you’re here. We love this one so much. Promise me you’ll defend her with your life.”
Everything felt surreal.
I promised that between Eddie and me, Andie was in good hands.
Andie paraded me around for the next hour, introducing me to everyone as “Sam, my brilliant criminal defense lawyer,” as if I was the party guest they all needed to meet. One of them asked if I thought she was going to jail.
“Nobody wants that less than me,” I assured them. No one seemed to realize I’d been a lawyer for all of two months.
Leah’s partner introduced himself as an “old-school” TV producer who had done a string of MTV shows in the early 2000s. He generously offered to make any introductions I wanted.
“Anything for the one who promises to keep Andie out of jail,” he said with a confident smile.
After an hour of small talk, Andie nudged me. “There’s one more person I want you to meet, then we can go.”
I followed her inside. The interior of the house was straight out ofArchitectural Digest: twenty-foot ceilings with pristine white furniture, a 360-degree fireplace in the middle of the living room, and a dining table that looked like it would seat thirty people. She led us past an immaculately designed chef’s kitchen with a walk-in wine fridge, an Equinox-level gym and sauna, and a private screening room. We continued upstairs and down a winding hallway lined with windows overlooking the beach. When we reached the last door on the right, Andie knocked softly.
“Arlo? It’s me,” she announced as she opened the door.
It was every little boy’s dream room. Oversized bunk beds and a campsite set up with a huge tent and a pretend bonfire. An entire wall of shelves filled with children’s books next to miniature armchairs sized for kids. LEGOs everywhere.
