I grabbed my phone and booked a last-minute spin class. I needed to get out of my head. I neatly folded a work-appropriate outfit into my gym bag and walked east toward SoHo. The city was beautifully still, and I made a mental note to try getting up earlier.
The MetLife Building was completely empty at 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday. I wished it was Monday, and Charlie would be in the office. I wondered if by Monday morning, we’d brush it off like nothing happened.
My cell phone rang extra loudly as I walked down the empty hall toward my office. No one called this early, unless it was Charlie trolling me at 2 a.m.
“Morning, Andie,” I chirped.
“Hey, editor. I’m in town. Can you meet for lunch at the Four Seasons?”
I cradled the phone under my chin and dropped my gym bag next to my desk. “Today? I think I can do lunch—is it just us or is Eddie coming too?”
“Just you. I didn’t tell him I was coming to the city.”
I had no idea why Andie was in town, but I sensed it had to do with the book. Her publisher was in New York and pressing her to get down five thousand words a week. The problem was no one knew how the story was going to end.
I worked quietly for a couple of hours. Charlie hadn’t texted, and I couldn’t decide if that was normal or not. Maybe he was annoyed after the intensity of last night.
The Four Seasons was twelve blocks up Park Avenue. I arrived at the hotel’s main restaurant at 12:30 p.m. sharp.
“Reservation for two, under Reese,” I said as I scanned the restaurant for Andie.
“Reservation for three,” the hostess responded with a succinct “come along” wave.
Andie jumped up when she saw me. “Loveyour jacket,” she said, giving me a warm hug.
“Thank you! Did you end up inviting Eddie?”
Andie waved to someone behind me as I turned around to a man who was not Eddie being led to the table by the same hostess.
Andie reached out to shake his hand. “George, it’s such a pleasure to meet you in person.”
She turned to me with a proud smile. “I want to introduce you to my defense attorney, Samantha DeFiore. Sam, this is George Brenner.”
I knew immediately who he was, but I had no idea why he was there, or whyIwas there. I extended my hand and tried to look like this lunch meeting was the most normal part of my day.
“George Brenner, it’s so nice to meet you,” I said, hoping everyone called him by his full name.
We sat down as I looked at Andie quizzically, hoping she would explain why we were meeting one of the most famous writers of my generation for lunch at the Four Seasons.
“Sam, I’m sure you’re familiar with George’s work,” Andie said, giving my forearm a tight squeeze.
George Brenner was Hollywood and Broadway royalty. Even his older TV shows still streamed. He had multiple Emmys and at least one Oscar and was probably nominated for more Golden Globes and Tonys than most other screenwriters or playwrights. Now in his fifties, he seemed more relevant and prolific than ever.
“Yes, of course. Most of my law school classmates became a lawyer because of you,” I said. It was true. One of his longest-running TV shows had tapped into the most idealistic version of what it meant to be a lawyer, turning him into a perennial law school icon.
“That’s very kind of you. My family is filled with lawyers. I was the only one who went another way.”
Andie ordered a bottle of Pellegrino for the table. “George, are you based here now? Or Los Angeles?”
He nodded. “I have a house in Los Angeles but spend half my time here.”
“Samantha is becoming something of a bicoastal figure herself,” she said proudly.
“As you should. It’s the only way to work in the business and stay sane,” he said.
I nodded along, but I had absolutely no idea why he was there, or why I was there.
Andie looked like she could read my mind. “I didn’t have a chance to update Sam yet—do you want to go first, or should I?”
