“I told your mom I couldn’t leave until I got a hug,” she said.
Arlo jumped up from the fire trucks he was playing with and threw his arms around Andie’s legs.
“I want you to meet my friend Samantha. She’s helping me with my case. The one I told you about.”
Arlo waved but stayed attached to Andie.
“The one with the card games?” he asked.
She tousled his mop of blond hair. “Arlo’s my godson. Since you’re in charge of my fate, I wanted you guys to meet,” she said with a half smile.
“What’sfate?” Arlo asked.
“Fate means everything that happens to us in our lives. Your fate is to be the best boy with the biggest heart.”
The absurdity of this little boy’s life struck me in more ways than one. High-stakes poker was just the beginning of how different herworld was from mine. But despite having loyal friends with tremendous privilege, her fate depended on proving to the government she wasn’t a white-collar criminal.
Arlo showed us his LEGOs for a few minutes, then I called an Uber to take us back to LA. We rode in silence for about ten minutes as Andie checked her phone and I answered emails.
“You know—I lost most of my friends when the bottom fell out with the game,” she finally said. “They either thought I couldn’t offer them anything anymore, or they were worried about being associated with an accused felon. But Leah stood by me through everything. They’re my family. It’s important that you see me as more than someone accused of breaking the law.”
There were a lot of words to describe the way I’d perceived Andie until that afternoon: empowered, fearless, whip-smart, every synonym for persistent. There was no denying she was badass. But I hadn’t seen this other side to her. It was more than just humanity. I finally saw a softness and vulnerability that allowed me to relate to her.
“I’m glad I stayed the extra day. Thanks for letting me tag along. Arlo is the sweetest. You can tell he really sees you.”
Andie turned to look out the window.
“What about you? Who are the people that you care about?” she asked.
I played with the sapphire ring on my right hand. I didn’t know if it was because she’d let herself be vulnerable with me or because I wanted her to know that I appreciated how much she trusted me. But I found myself telling her everything.
“I’ve replayed it over and over. I think I ruined any chance of him ever being able to forgive me. And for what? I knew he hadn’t moved on. All I did was pour salt in the wound.”
I wondered if I was crossing some sort of attorney-client boundary, but it felt like we were both navigating parallel isolating experiences that made it feel like she wouldn’t be quick to judge.
“Now I like you even more. You’re not just a smart lawyer bot. You’re a real person, Sam.”
I leaned back against the headrest. “Being a smart lawyer bot doesn’t sound terrible.”
“Let me ask you something. If you could do it all over again—to be in the life you have now—would you?”
“All of it up to the point where I got drunk and slept with him this week,” I said softly.
She gave me a knowing look. “Exactly. You’re building the life you wanted. You have to leave the rest of it in the past. You messed up. But letting yourself be derailed by that isn’t a price that you deserve to pay for making a mistake. You’re what, thirty? You have your whole life ahead of you to make mistakes. Trust me. Some of them are ones you have to sit with, and others you leave in the past so you can move on. I guarantee you that your life is going to be bigger than the regret you’re feeling right now. Think about where you’re going. It’s just the beginning.”
We pulled up to Andie’s apartment. She leaned over and gave me a hug. “Take that advice. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in New York.”
Chapter Sixteen
I landed in New York Sunday afternoon to an email from Leo’s assistant with a secure file attachment for Sterling Solomon, Leo’s new client. He would call to go over what he needed me to do.
Sterling’s “files” consisted of emails he forwarded to Leo and text messages he screenshotted from his phone. That’s how his $20 million investment was papered. I was more diligent when I rented a gym locker.
My cell phone rang Sunday night with an unknown number that I knew instinctively was Leo. I felt a wave of panic. I didn’t know the first thing about film investments. What if he thought I did? What if he expected me to have a game plan?
He went into full partner mode the second I picked up. It sounded like he was dictating a message on his phone.
“Samantha. Hi. Hope you had a great trip back. Two things. We need to draft a breach-of-contract complaint, even though I hope to God we never have to use it. I’ll send over a couple samples, but it’s important that we position this as a straightforward breach of contract, as in you need todownplaythe movie aspect. We don’t want to point out the risky nature of the investment. Apparently, he never consulted a film finance lawyer, and that type of schmuck decision-making is exactly the information we don’t want in front of a judge. Find some recent breach-of-contract case law and then get all the facts you need from him tomorrow. I’m coming to New York in a few weeks to meet him in person, but I don’t want to lose time—so I need you to sit down withhim at his office this week and get the full download so we can have a draft of the complaint ready to put in front of him when I get there.”
