by Carsen Taite
He started to answer, but the sounds that came out were less and less like words. He pointed at the laptop in front of him and began pecking at it with his right forefinger. He jabbed at the screen, and she turned it so she could read his response. Sure, you could. Are you ready to take one of those fancy big firm offers? In one year, you’ll make five times what you’d make at a nonprofit.
“I don’t care about the money. I had a great internship this summer. I could’ve stayed there.”
He tapped out more words. Were they even hiring?
West could tell he already knew the answer. “That’s not the point. Even if they aren’t, there are other places. Now, I’m behind the curve and I’m going to have to hope my roommate will let me slide on the first month’s rent until I find a new job.”
You don’t have to do that.
“I’m not taking your money.”
I’m not offering. The job is still yours. I’ve already spoken to my replacement. Nothing has to change.
“Oh, no. I only agreed to this clerkship because you asked. I’m not going to fetch coffee and do research for some brand new federal judge who doesn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.”
Hank chuckled and then typed a novel. This one might actually know a thing or two. Our agreement was you’d do the clerkship. One year. That was our deal and I’m holding you to it. Yes, I planned for you to be my clerk, but that wasn’t the most important thing for me. This clerkship will open doors for you that your stellar grades won’t. You want to change the world? You need to see how it works first.
“I know how the world works. I’ve had plenty of experience.”
Hank nodded. Yes, you have, and I’m not trying to minimize everything you’ve been through, but the more you learn the judicial system from inside, the better equipped you will be to make it work for you. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
She did trust him, as much as she trusted anyone, but she couldn’t help but feel ambushed by this news. “Who’s the new judge?”
Camille Avery. She was a state court judge in Collin County.
“Interesting. Does she have any federal experience at all?”
Matter of fact, she does. Right out of law school she worked for the solicitor general’s office, under Addison Riley.
“The Addison Riley who’s now chief justice of the Supreme Court?”
One and the same. After Avery worked in DC, she moved back here and worked as an AUSA for a while in the Eastern District. Her family has a lot of connections and she ran for and won a state court bench on her first try.
“Her family must have a lot of connections if she got confirmed so quickly.”
Avery had already started the interview process to become a magistrate, so Senator Armstrong fast-tracked her into my seat. I just met her. Judge Avery is sharp, personable, and immensely qualified.
“You just met her?” West thought about the woman she’d given her card to not more than fifteen minutes earlier. “Here? Tall, brunette, legs for days?”
Hank narrowed his eyes and nodded.
“I think I may have just asked your replacement on a date. She was getting in her car when I got here.”
“Lovely.” He spoke the one word and then typed. Please tell me she managed to resist your charms.
“Jury’s out on that one, Judge. Seriously, if those are the kind of judges the Senate is confirming these days, sign me up to clerk for a few more years.”
Hank typed even faster now. Good thing I know you’re all talk. Promise me you won’t hit on your employer anymore. She’s going to make a good jurist, and I imagine she has her sights set on more for the future, so she’ll need good, solid clerks to help her along the way. He wagged a wavering finger. “That’s your job. Understood?”
She hung her head in mock dejection. “Understood.”
He grinned. “But you’re right. Her family connections probably didn’t hurt.”
West nodded. She knew all about family connections, but not from personal experience. Many of her less qualified law school classmates had landed cush jobs due to the influence of wealthy and powerful relatives. Most of them thought she was just like them, taking advantage of her relationship with Hank to land a coveted clerkship. Little did they know, she dreaded a year of being a lackey when she could be out in the real world making a difference with her degree. Now that Hank wasn’t going to be her boss, she dreaded it even more.
It’s important to me that you do this. Hank typed as if reading her mind. Now more than ever. It would mean a lot to me for someone I know to carry on my legacy. At least for a little while.
West rolled over her options. She could find another job or fulfill the promise she made, but there really wasn’t a choice. Her own dreams could wait. She owed him this.
Chapter Three
Monday morning Camille rushed through the lobby of the Adolphus Hotel toward the Bistro. The maître d’ held up a hand while he spoke to the two people standing in front of her examining the menu. Camille looked over her shoulder and said, “Never mind, I see them.” Ignoring his fluster, she strode through the restaurant to the table where her parents were waiting. “Sorry, I’m late. Parking downtown is a nightmare.”
Her mother motioned to the empty seat, and her father glanced up from the bound set of documents in his hand. “Not a problem,” he said. “We’ve got an expert witness hearing over at the George Allen building and we used the extra time to prepare.”
Camille hovered for a second by the empty chair. Years of experience taught her he didn’t mean anything by the remark, but it still stung that both of her parents always put work first. Roger and Nancy Avery had built an empire specializing in toxic tort litigation, but empire-building came at a cost, and their family had paid the price. Camille thought about her older brother and wondered, not for the first time, if his death had indirectly been a result of being virtually abandoned by over-achieving parents who couldn’t summon compassion for their drug-addicted son. She’d expected her own devastating election loss would impact their view of her, but meeting here, steps away from the courthouse, on the morning of her first day as a federal judge, had been their idea not hers, so she decided to stick around and make the most of the rare familial outreach. “Have you ordered?”
“Just fruit and yogurt for me,” her mother said, patting her waist. “And oatmeal for your dad. Doctor says his ticker isn’t what it used to be.”
Camille nodded, certain her father’s health report had more to do with the stress level of his job than his physical condition. Both of her parents were in perfect shape. They’d probably been halfway through a rigorous spin class before her alarm had gone off this morning. Their obsession wasn’t genetic. She was all for good physical fitness, but she wasn’t crazy about it, preferring recreational exercise like hikes and kayaking to the close, sweaty quarters of a gym. When the waiter came, she stubbornly ordered bacon and eggs, ignoring her mother’s raised eyebrows.
“Where did you park?” her mother asked.
“After driving around and around, I decided to valet here.”
“You’d think they’d have a spot for you somewhere at the courthouse.”
“They probably do. I’m sure there’s some secret judge’s lot somewhere that I’ll find out about today.” Camille took a sip of her coffee. The whole summer had been a whirlwind, from the phone call the week after Judge Blair’s collapse to the speedy confirmation. She’d barely had time to register the fact she was about to assume a seat in the federal judiciary. Little details about where to park and whether there was a secret entrance in the building seemed unimportant. She’d do like she always did—show up and act like she knew what she was doing until she figured it out. In the meantime, she’d try to enjoy breakfast with her parents whom she barely saw anymore.
Once everyone started eating, she said, “I can’t remember the last time we shared a meal together.” She took a bite of bacon. “Actually, I do. It was a year ago. At Uncle
Randy’s wedding,” she said, referring to her father’s brother.
“That was quite a spread,” her father said, looking up from his papers and oatmeal. “My brother’s wife knows how to throw a party.”
Camille ignored the sarcastic remark. Her father had never approved of what he dubbed his younger brother’s irresponsible choices—throwing away his law degree to become an author and marrying a woman half his age. “I was thinking of having a dinner party soon. Us, Randy and Evelyn, and maybe a few others. Nothing too fancy, just a smallish celebration.”
“Oh dear, we’ll actually be traveling a lot in the next month, and that’s why we asked you here this morning,” her mother said, raising her glass of grapefruit juice. “Congratulations, to the first federal judge in the family.”
Camille looked over at her father, who absentmindedly raised his glass in response to her mother’s toast. She hadn’t expected any kind of celebration really, but somehow this afterthought of a breakfast seemed like a waste of time for all of them. It was clear her father would rather be working and her mother was only trying to placate. She didn’t need parental approval or praise. Their connections might have gotten her the initial interview, but it was her experience and hard work that had closed the deal. Let them go to dinner parties and professional conferences and brag about their daughter the judge. In the meantime, she’d celebrate with people who truly appreciated how far she’d come and the sacrifices she’d made to achieve this success. Every step forward, up the ladder, would be her own.
She left her car at the valet stand and walked the two blocks to the courthouse. There might indeed be some secret entrance, but today, she’d walk through the front doors and pass through security exactly as she had when she’d come here back in May, looking for a spot as a magistrate judge. No one knew her today, but she was determined that in a few years, everyone would know her name.
* * *
West poured hot water over the grounds in the French press and gave the mixture a strong stir. Three more minutes and she’d have a perfect cup of coffee. She was counting on it since good coffee might be the only good thing to come from her first day of work at the courthouse.
“Is that what you’re going to wear?”
Her best friend, Bill, stood in the doorway to the kitchen of their apartment. Or rather Bill’s apartment that he’d graciously allowed her to crash in until she found a place of her own. She and Bill had attended Berkeley Law and had gravitated to each other by virtue of having both grown up in Dallas. Bill had graduated a year before her and moved back to Texas to work for the regional office for Lambda Legal. When she’d found out there was no chance she’d be staying on at the Center, she’d reached out to Bill, and he’d generously offered to let her bunk with him for the year she’d be in town. In the course of moving she hadn’t thought much about whether she’d need new clothes for the job. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Bill shook his head. “If you have to ask, then you might be beyond help.”
West looked down at her outfit—rust oxfords, tan chinos, a sky blue and pale green plaid shirt, and a Wembley tie she’d found in a fifty-cent box at a garage sale. She gestured the length of the tie. “Uh, this is vintage.”
“That’s code for I bought it at a thrift store. You’re going to federal court, not federal prison,” Bill said, as he rummaged through the fridge. “Is there any milk left for cereal?”
West answered his question by flipping him off. She’d dressed as conservatively as she could stomach, and she’d much rather be sporting jeans, Chucks, and a T-shirt. What she had on would have to do. She’d promised to work the job, but she wasn’t going to let it work her.
“So, tell me about this new judge. What’s she like?”
“I don’t know much about her other than what I could find on the Internet. She worked for Justice Riley a long time ago, did a stint with the US Attorney’s office up in Plano, and she was a state court judge.”
“Who got voted out of office after that guy she let slide killed a little girl. How in the hell did she get a federal bench?”
West shrugged. “Hank likes her and insists I will too. I guess we’ll see.”
“She sounds like she’s been around a while. Old gal?”
“Not even close. Late thirties, forty tops. And she’s pretty hot.”
Bill jabbed her in the shoulder. “And here you were acting like you’ve never met her. Or did you just find a pinup photo online?”
“No, I’ve met her, but it was before anyone knew she’d…it was before Hank went into the hospital. It was that day in fact. I helped her get through security at the courthouse. She was downtown interviewing for a magistrate position the day Hank collapsed. And then I saw her on Friday at the Blairs’ house. Guess he was passing the torch.”
“What’s she like?”
West considered the question. She didn’t have anything concrete to say, but her gut told her under other circumstances, Camille might be a fun date. A little uptight, a bit slow to unwind, but when she let her hair down…For a few seconds, West imagined Camille’s silky brunette waves fanned out across her chest and sucked in a breath while searching for the vaguest possible answer to Bill’s question. “She seems nice.”
“Nice? I saw that look in your eye. Nice doesn’t even begin to cover what you were thinking just now.”
“Lay off, perv,” she said, swatting at his arm. “She’s my new boss. Full stop.”
“In your world maybe. Now I’m just thinking about whether she’s wearing any clothes under that robe.”
West drank the last of her coffee and put the cup in the sink. “I’m outta here. See you later.”
The courthouse was close, but not close enough to walk to in the oppressive Dallas heat that lingered late into August. After circling the main downtown streets a few times, West finally managed to squeeze her Jeep into one of the last spots in a pay lot several blocks from the courthouse. The lot was tucked between two buildings on the east side of downtown that used to be more warehouse and less office space. Things had changed. She spotted several signs of gentrification, from imposing three-story townhouses to a farmer’s market that boasted more restaurants than fruit stalls. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the number of homeless people present on the streets. Some were curled on curbs, leaning against buildings, but some were entrepreneurs, offering an array of services to earn a buck.
“Wash your windows while you’re working? Pay me what you think is fair.”
West appraised the tall, lanky man who’d appeared out of nowhere and immediately pegged him as one of the homeless. Even at ten feet away, she smelled the sour stench of sweat and his stained and tattered clothes only bolstered her conclusion. His eyes were tired, but kind. How long had he been on the street, begging for work just to scrape by? She reached for her wallet, pulled out a five, and held it out to him. “The windows are pretty dirty, but I don’t have a lot of cash on me.” She grimaced as she spoke the last phrase, recognizing it all too well for the common excuse of the pedestrian accosted by the homeless. “I’m starting a new job today, and I can give you more when I get my first check.”
“This is more than enough.”
The man’s smile was gentle and absolving, but it didn’t diminish the guilt that her life had taken a different path than his. “It’s not nearly enough. Thank you.” She hurried off before he could say another word. The encounter stirred too many memories, and the first day of a new job wasn’t the time to dwell on a past better off forgotten.
Early, but not too early to appear eager, she breezed through security and rode the elevator to the sixth floor where Peter greeted her with a big grin.
“First day?” he said. “Guess I’ll be seeing a ton of you this year.”
“Guess you’re right.” She reached into her back pocket for her wallet and set it and her phone on Peter’s desk. “Don’t have a bar card yet. You want to keep my phone?”
“Don’t be silly
. You’re family.” He waved her through the metal detector. “You know, I was a little surprised you were going to be here, considering…”
West picked up her stuff and jammed it back in her pockets. “Me too, but it’s pretty hard to break a promise to Judge Blair. He’s not big on the whole ‘circumstances have changed’ excuse.”
“Well, you tell him we all wish him well. He’s a great man, and we miss him around here.”
“I will. Have you seen Judge Avery yet this morning?”
“She got here about fifteen minutes ago, along with her other clerk. You know him?”
“Nope.”
“Name’s Lloyd. Word is he’s on loan from Judge Stroud. Seems like a bit of a pain if you ask me, but I’ll let you make your own decision.”
“Thanks, Peter. You have a great day.”
West walked down the quiet hall, taking her time. She tried her best to arrive exactly on time, but she was ten minutes early. The idea of going into Hank’s chambers and not seeing him there made her gut clench, but it was inevitable. After taking a deep breath, she tugged open the door and walked into the new world.
“Hi, West,” the regal, sixty-something, African-American woman behind the desk called out. “You’re early.”
“Not on purpose.” West smiled to soften the words. “Hi, Ester. Is Judge Avery in?”
“She’s been here for an hour. New guy’s here too.” Ester jerked her head back toward the door behind her. “Go on in.”
West looked at the door and mentally chanted the refrain she’d adopted to calm her unease. Only a year. Only a year. She could do anything for a short period of time, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Hank had some good points. Working from chambers would give her insights into the judicial system she could leverage to get the kind of job she really wanted in the public sector. She straightened her tie and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a voice called out.
