Page 135 of Nerdplay
“Because I gave that slimeball the information I found on the new plot of land and let him take all the credit.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“So he could look like a solution-focused hero. It was part of the deal I made with him. He agreed to let me sit on the lien and let the statute of limitations pass in exchange for an uncontested partnership. His deal fell through, so I gave him mine.” I clear my throat, wary of uttering my next sentence. “And then I quit the firm.”
Her head snaps up. “Excuse me?”
“I left the firm.”
Her eyes search mine. “But partnership was your dream.”
“No. As you rightly pointed out, it was my parents’ dream. I had no idea what I wanted. I was only following the path they laid out for me, trying to earn their approval.” I force down the lump in my throat. “Until I met you.”
She leans back. “You can’t give up your career because of me.”
“I haven’t given up my career. I’m still a lawyer. As a matter of fact, I took a couple of clients with me, much to Joel’s dismay, and I’d love to take you on as well.”
Cricket releases that gangster’s moll laugh that I’ve craved to hear again. “Charlie, this camp is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy as it is. You’d be hitching your wagon to a falling star.”
“What if I help you turn it around?” And then I see it, that flare of hope. I plunge ahead. “What if I was the camp’s business manager? We could work as a team. It wouldn’t be a stretch. We already know we work well together.”
“Your office is hours away in Philly.”
“My office can be wherever I want it to be.”
“As nice as that sounds, I can’t afford to pay you, and you need health insurance. Benefits. A 401(k). All the grown-up stuff that I can’t provide.”
“Pfft. Adulthood is overrated.”
“You don’t mean that. You know I wish I had more of those things. If I can’t give them to myself, I certainly can’t give them to you.”
“Did I mention I have more than one client? There’s a real estate investment firm owned by a woman named Mandy Lowenstein. She’s good people. You’d like her.”
“Would I?”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can meet her yourself.”
Her smile is faint, but it’s there. “I’m not talking about Mandy. I don’t know if I’m ready to let you back in the circle of trust.”
“I understand that, which is why I came prepared.” I open my briefcase and retrieve my laptop. “Would you mind if I set this on your desk?”
“Did you prepare a presentation for me?”
“Will your eyes glaze over?”
“That depends on how many numbers it features. If there’s even a whiff of widgets, I’m out.”
“No widgets.” I tap the keyboard, and a slide deck appears on the screen. I gauge her reaction to the first slide.
A smile ghosts her lips. “This is not at all what I expected.”
The slides follow the story of Princess Leia and Han Solo, except I’ve pasted our faces over theirs. In a series of images, I show her how Han Solo dreamed of piloting the Death Star until he meets Leia and realizes that his true desire lies elsewhere.
“You know that’s not remotely accurate, right?” she asks, once the final slide appears.
“I took a few creative liberties.” I pause. “And I may have had a little help from the fan fiction group.”
This gets her attention. “They spoke to you?”
