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section. Back at the apartment we popped it in the VCR and cuddled up on the sofa to watch it. She was in kid heaven.
    It was almost like a scene out of Father Knows Best. What Mandy wasn’t aware of was the undercurrent of reality. Every now and then I’d get up from the movie—I think it was The Little Mermaid— and go into the kitchen where I had a bottle of Jim Beam in the cupboard. I must have taken six shots before the movie ended.
    Mandy wanted to play a game after the movie. Because of the drinks, I wasn’t in the mood.
    “Please?” she pleaded, stretching out the magic word like a musical note.
    “No,” I said. “Watch more TV.”
    “I don’t want to. I want to play a game.”
    “No.”
    “Read me a book.”
    “Not now. Go color.”
    Her face grew suddenly dark. “You’re mean,” she said.
    That was a new phrase, something I hadn’t heard her utter before. And she was hurling it at me. It stung. “Don’t you say that.”
    “But you are, Daddy.”
    “You color or watch TV!”
    She started crying then and threw herself facedown on the sofa. I closed my eyes and thought hideous things about myself, all true.
    The phone rang. I picked up and said, “Yeah?”
    “Jake?”
    “Who is it?”
    “Janet Patino. I’m sorry to call you at home.”
    My brain was buzzing. “No, no, it’s fine.”
    “I just had to know what’s happening. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize. I saw Howie, and I talked to the DA.”
    “And?”
    “Nothing yet. Howie hasn’t been arraigned.”
    “When will that happen?”
    “Probably next week. Look, why don’t you come into my office on Monday morning. We’ll discuss it then.”
    “All right.”
    I gave her the address.
    “Jake?”
    “Yes, Mrs. Patino?”
    “You can help Howie, can’t you?”
    After a short pause, I said, “Let’s discuss it all on Monday.”
    “Thank you, Jake. Thanks for everything. We do appreciate it.”
    “See you Monday.”
    Mandy was still facedown on the sofa. I sat next to her. She kept her head in the cushions. “Hey, Scooter,” I said.
    She didn’t move. I grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her to me. She stiffened. It was like holding onto a petrified frog. I turned her around and hugged her close, and she finally relaxed.
    Stroking her hair, I said, “I’m sorry. Daddy’s sorry.”
    She breathed softly against my chest. "You know what?" she said.
    "What?"
    "If you were happy it would be the best thing in the whole, wide world."
    "Don't you think I'm happy?"
    "No, Daddy."
    For once the lawyer didn't have an argument.

    Monday morning came faster than I expected. That’s probably because I managed a good Saturday with Mandy. It included the park and miniature golf. Mandy seemed to forget all about the incident the night before.
    Sunday we went to the beach. To top it off, my ex-wife actually arrived on time to pick up Mandy in the afternoon. I didn’t ask her how her weekend went, so we didn’t argue.
    I was in a fairly good mood when I arrived at my office in the Lee Law Building in Encino on Monday. I parked my Mustang in the lot and trudged up the stairs. A new girl was at the reception desk again. Gil Lee had a problem with receptionist retention. He paid minimum wage for the thankless task of answering phones, making coffee, and trying to look interested when anyone came to see a lawyer.
    “Hi, Marlene,” I said.
    “ Ei leen.”
    “Sorry. Any messages?”
    Eileen moved her head in super-slow-motion to check the message tray. She was supposedly a college graduate. I thought she must have majored in sleepwalking.
    “No,” she said.
    I smiled and nodded. Eileen closed her eyes momentarily. I took that opportunity to walk down the hall to the coffeemaker. I poured myself a cup, then went to my office.
    It was in the back corner of the building. Normally lawyers look upon a corner office as a sign of prestige and success. They usually have a nice view too. My office looked out on a couple of black