Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  She’d managed to settle down to a tricky set of interrogatories when her phone rang. She expected to hear Brenda’s voice asking her to hold, but it was Jack.

  “Are you all right? Brenda seemed to think it was something quite serious.”

  Elise exhaled and forced her shoulders to relax. “Yeah, I’m sorry I scared her. Look, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about something that happened today.” She didn’t want to get halfway into the story only to have him leave for another meeting.

  “Sure, I’m done for the day. Let me just shut the door. That should stop the clerks from wandering in or overhearing our conversation.”

  When he got back to the phone, she blurted out, “Bart Mather has brought me up on charges with the Disciplinary Review Board.”

  Silence.

  “Jack?” The silence unnerved her. She’d been expecting outrage. Or at least some reaction.

  Then she heard his voice, frigid and quite terrifying. “Tell me precisely what you know about this.”

  “I got a call this afternoon from the DRB, explaining that a complaint had been lodged against me. You know I only represent corporations, not real people. I did some Eighth Amendment pro bono work for inmates, but that was years back and I was part of a team. And I’m not sure why one of my corporate clients would bother with the DRB—after all, my corporate clients have a few dozen partners they can complain to.”

  “Keep going.”

  Elise tried to stop fidgeting in her chair and focus. “Okay. When I asked the guy from the DRB who’d made the complaint, he hedged, but then he started asking me about the Everton settlement.”

  “You settled that turkey? Good work.” He sounded pleased.

  “Thanks, I think, provided that case doesn’t get me disbarred.” She doodled large black X’s on some scrap paper.

  “Elise, you’re overreacting, and you know it. Get back to the facts.”

  His rebuke stung. She put down the pen and closed her eyes. “Right. The DRB guy wanted to know the details of the Everton hearing and its—”

  “The hearing in my court?” Jack sounded surprised.

  “Yes. And what happened afterward. See, when I walked back to the office after that, uh after the hearing, I was trying to put what had happened into perspective. I didn’t want to be a laughingstock in the firm, in the courthouse, etc.”

  “That’s absurd. If anyone should be a laughingstock, it would be me.”

  “Exactly. That was my thought,” Elise said quickly. “Then I realized, ‘Who’s going to laugh at Blackjack McIntyre, the closest thing the Philadelphia bar has to a superhero?’ That’s when it hit me how I could use your, uh, declaration to my advantage. I called Bart and let him laugh at me for a few moments before saying that I was rather looking forward to the notoriety of being known throughout the courthouse as your…” She hesitated. “You know.”

  He let that pass. “What precisely did you say to Mather?”

  “Okay, it’s been a few weeks, but what I recall is that I said I was looking forward to being known as the, er, person you’d singled out, given that you’re the darling of the judiciary.” Elise stopped, unsure how to explain what she’d done.

  It sounded like Jack got the gist of what she wasn’t telling him. “Did you threaten anything, promise anything, suggest you would actually enjoy undue influence or get preferential treatment from whichever judge got the case after me?”

  “No, I’m certain I didn’t. If I’m being honest, though, I’m not sure I didn’t let him leap to that conclusion on his own.”

  “Did he leap or was he pushed?”

  She was relieved that Jack saw it the way she did. “Exactly. That’s what I don’t remember. But look, can that actually be the standard? We’re talking about settlement talks. Everyone postures and puffs up their case. How’s this any different? I owe a duty of candor to the tribunal, so I’m not allowed to lie to you guys in the black robes, but I don’t think I’m obligated to prevent a schmuck like Bart Mather from getting scared that the next judge on the case is going to smile at me a bit more because, nudge nudge, wink wink, I’m Blackjack’s latest honey.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, I loved the roses. Thank you.”

  Elise was confused by the change of topic. “You’re welcome. So what do I do? Should I get a lawyer?”

  “Have you told anyone at Fergusson yet?”

  “No. I’m not sure what to say, honestly.”

  “And who to say it to,” Jack mused.

  “I would love for this to go away on its own, but I’m afraid it won’t.”

  Jack was quiet. Elise doodled O’s on her paper while she waited. Finally he said, “Sorry, I was looking at the Rules of Professional Conduct. Did the DRB say which rule Mather accused you of violating?”

  “No.”

  “Well, the closest I can come is if Mather suggests that you threatened to influence the next Everton judge with your seductive good looks and lethal wit and charm.”

  “Ha-ha. C’mon, Judge—enough with the flattery.”

  “I wasn’t—okay, never mind. Seriously, the only possible rule you could have violated prohibits you from actually seeking to influence a judge. There’s nothing in it to suggest that a hint in the ear of opposing counsel is improper. You’ll want to research the cases about the rule, but I can’t imagine how Mather thinks this is going to stick.”

  “He’s just bitter because I lowballed him.”

  Jack laughed. “I’m so pleased to hear you say that. Off the record, his case is a stinker. Do you think Mather’s trying to shake you down? Get you to cough up more money?”

  “Bart Mather? I can’t see it. He’s a toad, but he’s not a criminally bad attorney. At least I didn’t think so. I’m guessing it’s sour grapes.”

  “Okay, well, here’s my advice. Don’t tell anyone at Fergusson just yet. Wait until you get the formal notification. Maybe Mather will withdraw the complaint. If you do get formal notice, you’ll tell the partnership. Follow all their advice on how to respond to, and cooperate with, the DRB. Fergusson has sufficient influence to make this go away pretty quickly.”

  Elise felt the weight lift. Even her doodles had gotten lighter and more delicate—little hearts and flowers and trailing vines. It looked a bit like a wedding bouqu—she hastily scrunched the paper and threw it away.

  “Great, thanks,” she said quickly.

  There was an awkward pause. Elise had a crazy thought that he’d next ask her in a low tone what she was wearing, and they’d have phone sex. Wishful thinking maybe. She could still taste the strawberries and whipped cream…

  “Uh, okay, glad I could help,” he said finally. “Are you sure you’re all right? I could take you out to dinner—not a date but just to be friendly.”

  Elise might have preferred the phone sex, but she didn’t say that. He was just being kind. He was quite chivalrous, really. Definitely an old-fashioned man.

  “I—thanks, but I need to get back to my work. As you might imagine, I haven’t met my quota for billable hours today.”

  “Of course.” His voice was back to its Blackjack-the-superhero briskness.

  They said goodbye and Elise got back to her work. She still felt a bit shaken. She just couldn’t tell if it was Bart Mather unsettling her, her doodles, or Jack.

  Jack stared at the phone for a long moment. Bart Mather had just promoted himself from harmless slug to venomous snake. The trick to dealing with snakes was knowing what weapon to use.

  With a couple of phone calls, Jack arranged to visit Chief Judge Williams in her chambers the next day. Before Euphemia Williams had been named to a federal judgeship, she’d been on the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas—an elected position. State court judges needed to maintain strong ties with the local political bosses, something Jack had never had to do. He’d gone straight into the US Attorney’s office from private practice. As a federal employee, all his contacts were in D.C.

  No matter. Euphemia Williams wou
ld know what to do. Jack leaned back, well satisfied. He wasn’t just killing two birds with a single stone, he was getting rid of a snake as well. He smiled without humor at his menagerie of metaphors.

  The following afternoon, Jack walked along the bookshelves in Judge Williams’s chambers. He loved visiting here—it was cozy and cluttered with memorabilia from her career. He was admiring a photo of her and Nelson Mandela when she walked in.

  “Sorry for the delay. The sentencing went long.” She stripped off the robe, which got thrown over the back of a chair. “You remember how that is, don’t you?”

  “Prosecuting cases before you was surely the pinnacle of my career.” He gave her a quick smile.

  She gave him a sidelong look. “Hmm. Now that you’re on the bench, your need to butter up all the judges will pass with time. Of course, you’ll always need to keep me happy, as long as I’m chief, but that shouldn’t be hard for a smooth talker such as yourself.”

  “Of course not, Judge.”

  “Call me Euphemia.”

  He nodded, amused and pleased. She’d always been one of his favorite judges. She was a large woman, smiling and genial. Anyone who underestimated her on the basis of her gender or race, though, ended up getting their heads handed to them in court. At the same time, she had a heart as large as her courtroom, and never lost her compassion for the families of both the defendants and the victims.

  They sat down. “So, Jack—how’s your first month been?”

  “Six weeks, actually. I almost feel I know what I’m doing.” He grinned. “Or else, I’m getting better at faking it.”

  “Trust me—that feeling never entirely goes away. Just when I think I know what I’m doing, I’ll be faced with a situation I’ve never had before and those jitters come rushing back.”

  “Been there already, as you know.”

  Euphemia Williams had a great laugh. “Heard about that. Fell for that lawyer from Fergusson, huh?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, we chuckled for days—first time we really wished there were cameras in the courtroom. I won’t lie—I asked Mike to make the tape of that hearing available to the judges only. Didn’t want the press to get hold of it. I think his people in the Clerk’s Office explained to reporters that under those circumstances tapes aren’t routinely saved once they’re transcribed. But we’ve listened to it more than once.” There was that great laugh again.

  “So glad to have lightened a serious judicial lunch or two.” Jack leaned back, making himself comfortable. He wasn’t upset by this—if anything it led right where he wanted it to.

  She nodded. “So why are you here?”

  “Elise Carroll and I are dating.”

  “There you go—I knew you could bring her around.”

  “Don’t get too excited. We’re only dating. Ms. Carroll is a very independent woman. I wouldn’t expect an announcement of impending nuptials anytime soon.” Jack pinched the crease in his trousers, picking his words carefully. “But I do want to marry her, and I would like your opinion on my ethical duty with regard to Fergusson and Leith lawyers generally. I checked, and I don’t currently have a case with a Fergusson lawyer, but it’s just a matter of time. The Code of Conduct would suggest that I don’t have to worry about the situation until Elise and I are either living together or married. In light of the fact that I made a rather public declaration of my feelings for her, I thought I should check with you.”

  Judge Williams looked away and rocked her body back and forth, tiny movements that made her look like a wise Buddha. “I believe there’s a provision in the Code that would allow the litigants to agree that you can serve on the case. When a Fergusson case is assigned to you, explain the nature of your relationship with Ms. Carroll at the Rule Sixteen hearing—maybe you’ll be married by then.” She grinned. “But if you haven’t succeeded in getting Ms. Carroll to accept your proposal, the onus is on her firm. Fergusson can argue they’ve established a Chinese wall so that she’s excluded from any involvement with the case. If their measures to isolate her strike you as sufficient, you don’t have to recuse yourself. If the other side still squawks, your decision not to recuse isn’t wrong under the rules, but maybe Fergusson would rather you didn’t hear the case.”

  She looked at him, her head tipped to one side. “Sound about right, Jack?” Taking his silence as agreement, she went on. “Now, perhaps you’ll tell me why you’re really here. Because if it’s just to reassure me that you know the rules, you can relax. You’d have gotten a call from me long ago if I’d been worried about your relationship with Ms. Carroll.”

  He folded his hands and allowed his face to still. “The other lawyer in the Everton hearing—Bartram Mather—has filed a formal disciplinary complaint against Elise.”

  The change in Judge Williams’s genial demeanor was sudden and severe. She sat up, rigid with disapproval. “What the—? On what basis?”

  Jack explained about the settlement discussions and Elise’s canny manipulation of Mather’s foolishness.

  “What rule does he think she broke? Some obligation not to exploit his stupidity?” she demanded. “Oh, this pisses me off. I should get him sanctioned by our court.”

  “I have a better idea,” Jack said softly.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I was thinking you might know someone who knows someone who might talk to the folks at the Disciplinary Review Board. You can see this is a turkey. I read the rules. Even if Elise told Mather she was going to sleep with the next judge on the case, it’s still not a violation until she actually goes ahead and does it. I can’t think of anything she might have threatened Mather with that would be worse than that, and if that’s not a violation of her professional ethics, what sort of case could he have?”

  Judge Williams narrowed her eyes. “If she’s so innocent, why bother to fix this?”

  “She’s up for partnership at Fergusson. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in that situation. If my recusal loses her that partnership, it’ll adversely affect my plans to marry her.” He spread his hands out. He was gambling that Euphemia Williams was as much of a romantic as Anita King.

  “Well, you’re right—a phone call makes this go away. Are you sure you want me to do this? Your Ms. Carroll may not want you fixing things for her.”

  He’d thought about this. He knew Elise could take care of the problem herself, but it would take time and result in more attention, inside her firm and out, than she wanted. Bad enough he’d started all this. It felt good to take a tiny part of the burden away.

  “I set all of this in motion, no pun intended,” Jack explained slowly. “If I hadn’t fallen in love with her right there, in the courtroom—or if I’d met her first and not had to announce on the record what I felt for her—all of this is avoided. I could have had the case reassigned more discreetly and no one would have known what was going on.”

  Judge Williams had gone back to her nodding Buddha routine.

  Jack looked at her, hoping she understood what he was trying to do. “I just want to minimize the upheaval for her. I can’t unring the bell, but I can stop it from pealing endlessly.”

  Judge Williams—Euphemia—stood up, so he did as well. “Okay, Jack. Good luck getting her to understand what you’re attempting. I suspect you’ll find she sees the situation differently. If it helps, you can tell her that I wanted to make the phone call. That little rat is impugning the integrity of a lawyer who did nothing wrong, and he’s publicizing the actions of one of my judges in the process. The sooner the DRB kicks his complaint, the better.”

  Jack left, satisfied that he’d gotten what he came for. Elise might be annoyed for a little bit, but in the end, she’d see it as he did.

  On the day of their next sex date, Jack took the precaution of not drinking any coffee past lunchtime. He really wanted to sleep at Elise’s place. He looked forward to spending a lazy Sunday morning with her. Morning sex, with her pink and tousled from sleep—just thinking about it was arousing. M
aybe even sex in the shower, which would be a first for him. He’d laughed when he spotted the stock of condoms on a shelf in the shower. It seemed the stuff of bad porn movies, having sex pressed up against slick tiles. He’d never tried it, but presumably she had more experience in how to make it work.

  He had a canvas bag with a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a gift. When he rang her doorbell, she swung open the door and pulled him in. She was wearing close to nothing, some diaphanous nightgown that went nearly to the floor but was made of such delicate cotton that she might as well have been naked.

  He eyed her judiciously. “I keep feeling overdressed when I get here.”

  “Well, then wear fewer clothes, or—” she pressed against him, “you could get undressed faster.”

  “There you go with that need for speed,” he teased.

  “What can I say? I’m horny,” she murmured against his lips.

  Her kisses were immediately deep and drugging. He had a split second of rational thought, which he used to remember her locking the front door before assaulting him. He dropped his bag to the floor and hauled her, hard, into his arms. He was horny, too, he discovered before he stopped thinking.

  A couple of hours later, Elise was flushed, panting, and lying spread-eagled on the bed. Jack came back from the bathroom—yup, there were still condoms in the shower—and stood looking at her.

  “Round three?” he asked.

  She didn’t open her eyes, but her lips curved into a soft half smile. “Can’t…just…yet.”

  “Would it be gauche if I mentioned that I’m starving?” He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the damp skin of her waist and hip.

  Her dark blue eyes snapped open. “You and your food, Judge. I hope you notice these critical ways in which you and I are incompatible.”

  “Because I like to eat occasionally?”

  She pulled herself up on the pillows. “No—because you have an almost sexual relationship with food.” She crossed her ankles demurely, which struck Jack as funny. He didn’t laugh. He also resisted the urge to make a double entendre about eating.