Chapter Forty-Three
“Do you like oysters?” Frank asked.
I nodded as he signaled to the waiter. “We’ll do a dozen oysters. Preferably East Coast.”
He winked at me. “Less salty.”
When Frank suggested we meet for lunch at Jeffrey’s Grocery, a restaurant known for oysters and Bloody Marys, I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a business lunch or something else. Whatever his agenda, I was hoping to flex my client-development muscles.
He smiled. “My girlfriend loves this spot. She turned me onto it.”
“What does your girlfriend do?” I asked.
“She does marketing for wellness companies.”
“Ah. So you’re dating outside the industry.”
He smirked. “My last girlfriend was an actress. She was gunpowder in human form. Broke my heart into a million pieces.”
“I’m sorry. But it sounds like you rebounded?”
“Eventually. It took three years. I couldn’t sit still. Spent a year in India. Six months in Dubai. Then S?o Paolo, Santiago, and Mexico City before I felt like I was whole enough to come back.”
“Holy shit. That’s an amazing lineup, though.”
“I met Sarah the first weekend I was back in the city. She was standing outside of Equinox pushing some hot yoga/mind meld thing. That was almost a year ago.”
“I always wondered how real people meet other real people.”
“I have a no-actress rule now.” He glanced down at the menu. “Was this place out of the way for you? I didn’t think to ask where you live.”
“I’m on Perry Street, so very convenient.”
“Nice. I’m in Tribeca.”
The waiter returned with a platter of oysters.
“Your email mentioned you had a ‘thought’ after we met at the book launch,” I said, my curiosity getting the best of me. Especially after he mentioned his girlfriend almost as soon as we sat down.
“Right.”
He pulled a stack of papers out of a messenger bag on the floor. “This is my contract for a movie I was supposed to direct until I had a disagreement with the producers over casting, and the studio kicked me off the project.”
I looked at the first page of the director’s agreement.
“They were going to pay you $5 million to direct?” I asked.
“It’s a big-budget movie.”
“And they fired you?”
“And now I want to sue for wrongful termination.”
“What was the disagreement about?”
“I wanted to rewrite the male lead as a woman. They didn’t.”
“Yikes. I’m assuming that’s not something they’d want out there.”
“That’s why I’m bringing this to you.”
I chuckled. “You know I’m just an associate, right? It’s still my first year at the firm.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but you work with Leo Hirschman.”
“I have in the past.”
“Anyway, I liked what Andie Reese said about you at the book thing. You seem smart. I’m not asking for any favors.
I can afford you guys—I just thought maybe this could be a win-win type of thing.
You bring me in as a client, get Leo to work with you on it, and we scare the shit out of these motherfuckers. ”
I hadn’t heard from Leo since the retreat. He never followed up about the big transactional matter he’d teased in Montana.
I wondered if bringing in Frank as a client could level the playing field. I still wanted to work with Leo, but I was long past wanting more than a professional relationship.
I handed him back the director’s agreement. “I probably shouldn’t look at that until the firm clears conflicts. But this does feel right up Leo’s alley. I can reach out to him.”
“Terrific.”
I felt a spark for work that had been missing since the investigation broke me down, and the retreat left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was pretty sure Elinor hadn’t talked to anyone about what happened, but I needed to find a way to mentally move on.
Frank headed back to Tribeca, and I took the subway to Forty-Second Street. HR still hadn’t replaced Charlie, and I felt his presence every time I walked into our empty office. I put on a Bob Dylan playlist while I looked up a federal statute Eddie had asked me to research.
My phone lit up with a FaceTime call.
I melted down as soon as his face appeared.
“Wow, wow—you okay?”
After how badly Ben and I had left things, his expression reflected genuine concern. I cried harder. I propped the phone against the monitor and covered my eyes with a Kleenex.
I took a shaky breath. “You just caught me off guard, I guess.”
He gave a sympathetic smile. “Well, whatever’s going on, I promise I’m not here to make you feel worse. I’m buying a car, and your name’s still on the title for the old one. I just need you to notarize the bill of sale so I can trade it in.”
The idea of Ben FaceTiming for such a mundane reason almost made me laugh.
“Sure. Just email me whatever you need . . . I can print it and scan the signed copy back to you,” I said, wiping my nose and wishing I kept a box of tissues in the office.
“Cool, thanks.” He hesitated. “Seriously, though—are you okay?”
I ducked. “What kind of car are you trading the Honda in for?”
“Mercedes. Convertible.”
“Oh, wow. Trading up.”
“Well, I sold Baby Divorce for six figures.”
“You’re joking.”
“Yes, I’m joking.”
“Not that there isn’t a market for it,” I added.
“I’m sure there is. But it won’t be me writing it. I burned all the chapters. My therapist’s two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar advice.”
“That sounds . . . cathartic.”
“It was. Although I did it on the balcony of my apartment, and my neighbor called the fire department, which was awkward. And I got a pretty hefty fine.”
“Shit. That sucks. I guess I should feel partially responsible.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Turns out my neighbor is a cute girl who’s also going through a divorce. And we’re kind of dating now. So not the worst outcome.”
“Oh, wow.”
Was I lucid dreaming?
“Are you really seeing a therapist?” I asked.
He nodded. “And I know what you’re gonna say.”
“You never believed in therapy.”
“I didn’t used to. Then my wife left me and stomped on my heart. Twice.”
I never realized how impossible it is not to make eye contact on FaceTime.
“I deserve that.”
He paused, looking deep in thought. “Honestly Sam, before I saw you in New York last year, I would’ve done anything to get you back. I couldn’t understand why you left. It didn’t feel real. Maybe my head was up my ass the whole time, but I just didn’t see it coming.”
“And then I saw you in New York, and you were so confident . . . You’d blossomed right into that woman sitting across from me at that restaurant.
And even though I really wanted to go home with you that night, I finally started to get why you left.
New York, and this career you went after—it all looked good on you.
But it also hurt because I finally realized you were never coming back.
And it was like losing you all over again. ”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Maybe this new life looked good on me, but I didn’t know if I’d ever feel like I really deserved it.
“I never wanted to hurt you. And this new life might look like it fits . . . but I don’t think I know how to be happy. Or if I even deserve happiness after everything I put you through.”
He shook his head. “It still fucking hurts. Especially after that night in New York. I needed space. But I’m trying to be happy.”
I stared down at Park Avenue. “I didn’t deserve you.”
He smiled grimly. “Well—maybe that’s true.”
I felt the muscles in my face relax slightly. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I feel happier than before you FaceTime-bombed me.”
He laughed. “I’m glad you picked up. Now sign that thing so I can lock down the Benz.”