Chapter Thirty-Eight
Over the next week, each day was more miserable than the next. We worked sixteen-hour days in total silence. My lower back was in a permanent spasm. I had fantasies about developing sciatica severe enough to go to the hospital.
Because of Elinor’s cell phone ban, I could only respond to texts on my way into the office or during a bathroom break. I hated how lame I sounded to the outside world.
Christmas came and went. Angela and I ordered Chinese food and spent the two hours Elinor was gone commiserating about the turn our lives had taken. It was like a shot of dopamine straight to the arm. Charlie texted Merry Christmas with a picture of a lit menorah.
A few days before New Year’s Eve, I was in the middle of another three-hour witness interview when I missed a call from Charlie.
He followed up with a text saying he wasn’t going to be back in the city for New Year’s after all; he was staying in Boston for the week and would fly directly to Montana for the retreat.
His words felt cryptic and cold. Even if the chances of getting out of the office had been a hundred to one, I still felt crestfallen.
I wanted to hear his voice. I couldn’t get a sense of whether he was betting on me not being able to get out of work, or if something else made him second-guess coming back. I couldn’t shake the thought he regretted everything.
I was still in the conference room when Charlie texted at midnight to wish me Happy New Year.
We’d only texted once since he told me he was staying in Boston until the retreat. He had watched one of Andre’s interviews on MSNBC and texted to say he “almost” believed the firm wasn’t full of shit.
I tried not to be offended. I’d spent nearly every waking hour working on an investigation that I knew was aboveboard in every possible way.
But for the media, it was just a political story, and to hear someone like Charlie all but siding with our opponents was infuriating.
I was tired and sensitive, averaging four hours of sleep a night with a disappearing appetite.
I wished the firm would decide we couldn’t go to the retreat.
I just wanted to stay on autopilot so I could finish the job and get my life back.
Elinor let us go at 10 p.m. the night before the retreat to pack. I spent the time schlepping loads of laundry down to the basement.
I worked the whole flight there, anxiously closing my laptop as we bumpily descended into Bozeman’s snow-covered airport. Forty-five minutes and two conference calls later, the driver pulled up to a sprawling lodge surrounded by the Gallatin National Forest.
I checked in and wondered if Charlie’s room was close to mine.
My phone buzzed as the concierge waved me over. My heart sank when I saw Leo’s name instead of Charlie’s.
Welcome to the wild west. Which building are you in?
A second text immediately followed.
How about an early, pre-happy hour drink? I’ll drop a pin so you can find my outdoor bar. This place is literally a military base.
So much had happened since I’d had dinner with Leo a month earlier. Without thinking, I responded that a drink sounded great.
I worked from my room for the rest of the afternoon. I still hadn’t heard anything from Charlie, but like clockwork, Leo dropped a pin at 4:30 p.m. with a message to meet him at five o’clock and to check the shuttle schedule.
The shuttle dropped me off at 4:58. I walked through the lobby to the heated outdoor bar, counting three hot tubs. I scanned the patio, finally spotting him behind a giant heat lamp.
He held up a chilled copper mug. “As I live and breathe. Samantha DeFiore, in the flesh. Welcome to Montana.”
He gave a warm hug and a subtle kiss on the cheek. I already knew I was blushing.
“This place is wild,” I said. It felt more après-ski and less lawyer retreat.
“The wild part hasn’t even started. This is like the firm’s version of Vegas.”
“Now I’m scared,” I said, only half joking.
“Andre tells me you’re killing it on the investigation.”
I relaxed slightly. “Really? He said that?”
“Another real feather in your first-year cap. Personally, I couldn’t be prouder.”
He couldn’t have looked prouder.
“Try this, it’s amazing.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his drink. I felt my face flush again. It felt too familiar to take a sip from his drink, but too awkward not to.
I took a micro sip as the back of my throat burned.
“Montana’s version of a Moscow mule. There’s habanero.”
“If it’s not going to offend Montana, I might just order a regular Moscow mule,” I said, my throat raspy.
“Suit yourself.” He turned to the bartender. “Classic Moscow mule for the lady.”
He asked me about the investigation as we waited for my drink. I felt my phone buzz in my blazer but didn’t want to look rude.
The drink arrived as Leo raised his mug to mine. “To your first firm-wide retreat. I’m honored to kick it off with you.”
His eyes locked with mine as we said “Cheers.”
I really wanted to check my phone.
“Okay, tell me everything. You’ve gone quiet on me since our dinner.” I read a touch of sincerity.
“Well, there really isn’t much to tell . . . I’ve been glued to the office for the last few weeks, but I’m sure you already know that from Andre. We’re all in the same boat. It’s intense but going well.”
“And what about Andie Reese? I heard she pleaded guilty?”
I nodded. “Did Eddie tell you about George Brenner?”
“Only that he’s writing the screenplay for the movie. I’m such a fan. That dude is a fucking legend.”
“It’s incredible. It’s the ending she deserves, at least in one way. It makes for great storytelling.”
“Have you met him?”
“I’ve actually been consulting for him here and there,” I said cautiously. “Well, before the investigation started.”
His eyes widened. “That is incredible. I hope you’ll remember me when.”
I laughed. “It’s been a lot of fun. He mostly asks questions I already know the answer to, so it’s worked out well for me.”
“I hope you know this isn’t the typical first-year experience. But I knew there was something different the second I met you.”
I looked down and ran my finger along the frosted mug. “I really appreciate that.”
He grinned. “Now the pressure’s on for me to find some way to steal you back from Eddie and Andre. I can’t be sharing you too often.”
My phone buzzed again. The altitude and vodka were like rapid waves conspiring against me. I wanted to see if Charlie had reached out, but it felt like I was under a microscope.
He pointed to the drinks. “So this is where the night starts off. I hope you know where it ends.”
I looked at him nervously and shook my head. “Where?”
I followed his eyes in the direction of a hot tub.
“Every year, a group of us close down the night in that hot tub. You’re part of that group now.”
I didn’t feel like it was the right time to share that I really hated hot tubs.
“Shoot. I packed in such a rush, I didn’t even bring a swimsuit.”
“Doesn’t matter. This place sells whatever you need. You can pick one up before dinner.” He checked his watch. “I should give you some time to do that. Firm cocktails start in thirty minutes.”
“Hey, Sam.”
My whole body felt the sound of his voice saying my name.
I turned to see Charlie a few feet behind Leo’s right shoulder.
I jumped up, feeling an immediate head rush. There was steam pouring from the space heater next to us. One side of Charlie’s glasses was fogged over.
“Leo, this is Charlie Bronstein. My officemate.”
Leo extended his hand. “Great to meet you, man. We don’t make the LA associates share an office, but as busy as this one is, I imagine you have it to yourself a fair amount anyway.”
“The officemate jackpot, as we first-years say,” he responded with a polite handshake. I noticed he was about four inches taller than Leo.
Charlie feigned a hammer curl with his luggage. “Apologies—my flight was delayed, so I just got here. Saw you on the way up and figured I’d say hello,” he said, looking directly at me.
“Hope they didn’t give your room away,” Leo said cheerfully.
“See you later, then,” he said to me.
Leo watched Charlie walk away as he finished his drink.
“Seems like you two get along at least.” He winked as he grabbed his sport coat. “Don’t forget to pick up a swimsuit.”