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makes them stop laughing. Stacy puts a hand over her mouth.
    “Oh, honey. Blackout drinking? That’s fucking dangerous,” she says. Mike leans in over his half-eaten eggs Benedict.
    “Dude. How bad is your hangover?” he asks.
    I’m about to tell him everything—me waking up with Julia, the gaping holes in my memory—when there’s a cough right next to my chair. Someone is standing beside me, waiting for my attention.
    “Sir, excuse me,” the man says. I look up. My double vision condenses down to one image of a gray-suited man with steely eyes. “I’m Todd Andrews, hotel management. I need you to come with me, please.”
    “What’s wrong?” I ask. It’s taking a moment, but my lawyer senses are kicking back into gear. Mike, Stacy, and Tyler all share freaked out looks.
    “It’s about a video, sir. Security has a few questions.”

    O f course Julia’s here , too. I sit down next to her in a small room at a stainless steel table. Mr. Andrews sits opposite us. A video monitor is off to the side, and my stomach lurches. Whatever I’m about to see, I doubt it’ll be good.
    “What’s this about?” I say again. Julia nods and points at me.
    “Him. He’s a lawyer. He knows lawyer tricks.” She squints. “You are a lawyer, right? Yesterday’s kind of a blur.”
    Thanks for the help. “Yes. I’m a lawyer,” I say, my voice flat. She rolls her eyes.
    “Thank you, wielder of the mighty sword of condescension.”
    “If I can have your attention,” Andrews says, and hits play.
    I watch, and there I am. With Julia. At—checking the timestamp—five-thirty in the morning. Well, that’s something at least. Now I know where I was just before dawn. We’re in the enormous Bellagio fountain, dancing right on the lip of it. Dancing. I kind of want to bang my head on the desk, but lawyerly cool must be maintained at all times. Especially when Julia is making more panicked and “I’m guilty” faces with every passing second.
    Now we’re stripping down to . . . okay, nothing. I join her in the fountain, lurching around. Now she’s got her arms around my neck, and we’re kissing. Deeply. Passionately. And my hands are very actively going down her body.
    We each snatch glances of the other out of the corner of our eyes. I can’t remember anything about this, and it’s clear she can’t either.
    Finally, mercifully, the video ends. Andrews turns to us, his lips pursed in victory. “Would you care to explain, Mr. Wexler? Ms. Stevens?”
    “Okay, so—” Julia begins, and I know she’s going to incriminate us hopelessly.
    “Is that the only footage you have?” I ask, putting my clasped hands on the table. Business. Professional. Pitcher of iced drinking water. Pretend we’re back in my office on Wacker Drive. Pretend you have tickets to the Bears after legally destroying the man sitting right in front of you.
    “Yes,” Andrews says, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your point?”
    “There is no way to be certain that those images are of myself and Ms. Stevens. The picture is too grainy. It would be impossible to accurately identify facial features.”
    Beside me, Julia’s eyes are bulging and she’s biting her lip. But she starts nodding.
    “I can’t tell, honestly. No way to be sure,” she says. Good.
    “I’m pretty damn sure,” Andrews says, but he’s looking a little uncertain. “We have footage of you two entering the hotel lobby twenty minutes later. Wet.”
    I’m sure he does, but I shrug. “We were at the Mandalay Bay, attending a pool party. I believe we came home sometime close to six.”
    “I remember. Definitely around that time,” Julia says. “Pool parties. Vegas, right?”
    “Right,” Andrews says, though his face is falling. I’m sure he doesn’t believe it, but again, there’s no way to prove that there was no pool party. And if I call my contact over at Mandalay Bay, he’ll tell them I was there the entire day. No lie is too big for the lawyer who saved him