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by Carsen Taite

  “Thought he’d be here forever,” Peter said, a wistful look in his eye.

  “Me too, Peter, me too.” She started to walk back into court, but Lloyd pushed through the door and motioned for her to follow. “What’s up? Docket over already?”

  “On a break. Judge wants to see you.”

  That didn’t sound good, and the look reflected in Lloyd’s face confirmed it. She pushed past him and strode back into chambers. Ester was into her second, maybe third donut, and she merely pointed back toward Camille’s office. Lloyd hung back. “Maybe I’ll just meet you in the conference room whenever you’re ready to get started.”

  She studied his pale face and the way his fists were clenched. “Chicken.”

  “Maybe.”

  West smiled at the honesty, thinking this moment was the first real connection they’d shared. She strode up to Camille’s door and knocked, immediately hearing Camille’s voice, sharp and short, calling out for her to come in. West walked in and said, “You wanted to see me?”

  “Close the door.”

  West glanced back and pulled the door shut. She chose not to sit. Camille’s tone told her she was in for a dressing down and she’d just as soon take it standing, though she couldn’t imagine what Camille had to be mad at her about.

  “What were you thinking?” Camille blurted out the question, despite a promise to herself to remain cool. All she could see was a picture of West standing between her and a potential threat. The rest was a blur. Fear pierced her heart, cold and sharp. On some level she knew part of the source of her fear was the second letter she’d received—evidence that danger could come from any direction, but the idea that West might be hurt by a threat intended for her was inconceivable.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Gloria Wilson. She could’ve been armed. There’s a protocol to follow. The marshals are in the room for a reason. When you get in the middle of things, you can put everyone’s life in jeopardy.”

  West slid into a chair. “Hey, let’s dial this back a bit. First of all, I seriously doubt Gloria Wilson is a danger to anyone. She’s feeling a little left out of the loop. She’s attended her brother’s hearings before, and I’m sure she expected a little more today than a bunch of administrative mumbo jumbo. She’s not the only one.”

  Camille met West’s challenging stare. She’d seen West and Lloyd, huddled and whispering in the back of the courtroom. No doubt West was aware by now that she’d already written the opinion and had asked Lloyd to review it. West probably felt slighted, but she could clear that up. “I guess Lloyd told you I’ve already written the opinion.”

  “So, I spent last night working on a draft for you which was apparently a total waste of time? To top it off, you called everyone in and handed down your decree, without so much as giving me a chance to at least be around to see it all go down.”

  Camille felt every push of the buttons. “I don’t have to run my decisions by you. I don’t even have to ask for your input.”

  “But you included Lloyd. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  Camille started to say it clearly made her mad, but anger wasn’t what she saw reflected in West’s eyes. What she saw was hurt, and Camille regretted being the cause. “I was trying to spare you.”

  “Because I got a little zealous about how I thought you should decide the motion? Am I not allowed to have opinions?”

  Camille reached for middle ground. “Maybe. Look, I did what I thought was best. We have plenty of cases to work on, and I could use your help on some others. I’ve made up my mind on this particular issue, and Lloyd can do the cleanup work.”

  “He’s not as smart as I am.”

  “This is true, but I’m pretty smart myself. I think I can make up for any of his deficits.”

  West shook her head. “Not fair. I’ll quit before I get stuck doing all the boring stuff. I promise not to be a jerk just because we disagree if you promise to let me keep working this case.”

  Camille wanted to say it wasn’t the mere fact they disagreed that colored her decision, but she didn’t want to admit, out loud anyway, their undeniable attraction was getting in the way of her focus. Deciding it was easier to give a little, she said. “Okay, work with Lloyd to finalize the opinion and let’s get it filed no later than tomorrow. But I have one condition. Promise me you’ll quit trying to take on the job of the marshal service.”

  “I bet you a hundred dollars, they come back and say Gloria Wilson is harmless, but yes, I promise.”

  “Fine.” Camille said the word reluctantly, but the truth was, she was relieved to put West back on the case and not just because she was smart.

  Chapter Nine

  “Oh my God, I don’t think I’ll ever eat again.”

  “You’ll be hungry in an hour.” West opened her wallet and threw down a twenty, motioning for Bill to do the same. “Come on. We need to get out of here if we’re going to make a matinee. Besides, I bet you’ll be the first one in line for popcorn.” After a long week balancing a fine line between working with Camille and wondering what it would be like if she didn’t work for her, West was ready for a Saturday of escapism at the movies.

  “You can have popcorn if you want, but I think I’m going to die,” Bill said.

  “We’ll see.” West planned to have popcorn and Milk Duds, the salt and sweet combo a favorite memory from when Hank used to pick her up once a week from whatever foster home she was in at the time and take her to the movies. The other kids had been consumed with jealousy about her outings, so she’d never shared with them the fact she was not only getting to leave the house for the day, but she was having an awesome time too. Hank had been the bright light in her life at the time. His regular visits were the only consistency she had. He would take her to the movie theater, getting all the usual questions out of the way during the drive. Did she need anything? Were the insert-name-here foster parents taking good care of her? Making sure she had hot food, clean clothes, her own bed? The answer was usually yes, but she didn’t care about any of that as long as he continued to show up. She knew she was too old to get adopted once she went into the system, so his visits were the closest thing she had to simulating a family.

  Once they were at the theater, the questions stopped and the rest of the day was about movies and munchies. She usually got to pick the film, and she could order any food she wanted within a certain budget. On the way home, she would ask Hank questions about his life. How were his real kids? And what was it like to be an attorney? He told her stories about his children and his cases that caused her to long for a sense of belonging and purpose.

  Today, the parking lot at the theater was jam-packed, but Bill managed to find a spot on his third turn though the lot. While he squeezed his car into the tiny space, she pulled out her phone to check the movie schedule and saw she had a new text.

  Hate to bother you, but I’m looking for the notes on the draft jury instructions in the Wilson case. Any chance you know where they are?

  Camille. Damn, even a text about work had her heart racing. She thumbed a quick message back: Did you check the binder labeled pretrial? The reply was instantaneous.

  First place I looked.

  How about the file cabinet by the copier? Bill turned off the car, and West started to shove her phone back in her pocket, but it buzzed in her hand.

  Second place I looked.

  West considered before typing again. They could go back and forth like this all day, but if she were at the office, she would probably be able to lay her hands on the notes Camille was looking for in a matter of seconds. She looked at the movie schedule. Nothing grabbed her and she was feeling pretty sluggish from the huge lunch. “Hey, Bill, would you be really upset if we skipped the movie? I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

  “Are you kidding?” Bill said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m on the edge of a food coma. I was going because you wanted to, but if I can get a nap instead, I’m totally on board. You need me
to drop you off somewhere?”

  West considered her options. She didn’t like being without wheels, but they were close to downtown and she didn’t want to take the time to go all the way back home.

  Within fifteen minutes, she was standing in front of the court building. She’d texted Camille to let her know she was still thinking about where the documents could be, but she hadn’t mentioned she was coming by. Partly she didn’t want to risk Camille telling her not to come and partly she just wanted to surprise her. But now that she was here, she felt kinda silly for dropping her plans to run to the office for the chance to spend a few minutes alone with Camille. You’re a lost cause, Fallon.

  When she poked her head in the office, she heard Camille’s voice. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s West,” she called, biting back anything else since, for the first time, it occurred to her Camille might not be alone. “A little bird told me you might be having trouble finding some documents?”

  “The bird was correct.” Camille appeared in the doorway of her office. “But I certainly didn’t mean for you to ditch your plans and come in on a weekend to help supplement my lousy investigational skills.”

  “I know, but I wanted to.”

  “Then you’re crazier than I thought.” Camille waved her in. “Don’t just stand there looking handsome, start searching for the lost scrolls of case notes.”

  “Sure. Right.” West dove into the box Camille had pointed to, happy to have a task that would distract her from Camille’s words. Did Camille really think she was handsome? Could you be more like a ten-year-old school girl? “I was thinking Ester might have it. She was going to type up the notes and put them in the binders. It’s possible she didn’t get to it yet. I bet they’re in her desk.”

  West walked over to Ester’s desk and fished around behind the computer monitor until she located a small key. She unlocked the top drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here you go,” she said, handing the document to Camille, whose face was scrunched up in a weird, questioning expression. “What?”

  “I don’t know where to start. First, apparently, Ester likes you way better than me since I had no idea that’s where she kept her desk key. Second, you could have told me all this over the phone.”

  But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you. West chose not to speak the words for fear they would break the mood. “You know, I bet the typed up version is on the computer network.”

  Camille’s face scrunched into a pained smile. “Yeah, I seem to have locked myself out of the system. I can only access documents on my local drive.”

  “I bet I can help you with that.”

  “It’s the weekend. Don’t you have plans?”

  “You’re working, I’m working. That’s kinda how it’s done. Although, I bet most judges would make their clerks work while they took the weekend off.”

  “I’m not most judges.”

  “I noticed.”

  Camille cleared her throat. “I mean I need to put in the extra time. I have a feeling this trial is going to be very different from any I presided over in state court.”

  West decided to let the flirtatious moment pass since Camille clearly had some reservations about the trial. “Piece of cake. Besides, you’ve seen all this from the other side. Weren’t you an AUSA?”

  “I was, but we did a lot less litigating than state court prosecutors. Most people faced with federal charges opt to plea. Besides, that was a long time ago. You were probably in high school back then.”

  The remark hung in the air between them. West was already conscious of their age difference and it didn’t bother her, but it seemed Camille felt the need to point it out. Time to steer this conversation in a different direction. “Do you want to talk about the jury charge?”

  “Yes, that would be great.”

  “I’ll go make a copy and meet you in the conference room.”

  West flicked the power button on the copy machine and used the time waiting for it to warm up to clear her head. She was here to work and nothing more. Playful banter wasn’t an invitation for more, and as attracted as she was to Camille, it was better for both of them to stay professional or this year was going to seem like two.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted her when she walked into the conference room to find Camille arranging her papers on the table, two steaming mugs in front of her. “You made coffee.”

  “You say that like it’s a modern miracle. I may not be so handy with the computer network, but coffee is my life blood.” She raised one of the mugs. “Black, right?”

  West reached for the cup, lingering as their fingers touched. “Exactly.” This year was going to be hard. Very hard.

  “Okay, so I made some more notes last night and I want to sort through what will likely be some of the major issues before we start the trial so we can stay on track with evidentiary rulings.” Camille shoved a legal pad her way. “Here are my notes.”

  “Pen and paper. Old school.” West pulled the legal pad toward her.

  “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or…”

  “Or?”

  “Never mind.” Camille pointed to a spot on the page and West followed her lead. If Camille wanted to keep things professional, she could deal even though what she really wanted was to reach over and pull Camille into a kiss to find out if they had undeniable steamy chemistry or if the attraction would fizzle and fade away.

  She resisted the urge and instead spent the next few hours engaged in spirited discussion about the jury instructions in front of them. When she returned from a trip to the bathroom, Camille had packed up her paperwork and was sitting on the edge of the conference room table. “I think we should call it a day. It is Saturday after all.”

  “Not to mention I’ve searched every drawer in this place and the only food on hand are a few stale granola bars.”

  “You should talk to the boss about that.”

  “Oh, I plan to. I’d write a memo, you know, if I weren’t so busy writing other kinds of memos.”

  “Oh my, sounds like you’re overworked.”

  “And underfed.”

  “Let me buy you dinner.”

  West did a double take, unsure if the invitation was a natural extension of their playful banter or a genuine invite. Camille’s expression was part hopeful, part bracing. West wanted to accept—anything to keep this connection alive, but it was probably a good idea to be extra clear where they were headed. “Dinner would be great. Two conditions.”

  “Conditions,” Camille said, nodding her head. “Sounds serious.”

  “I pay my own way.”

  “Okay. And the other condition?”

  West started to say what she’d planned to. That whatever dinner was, it was just a meal between friends, but something—the hope in Camille’s eyes, the undercurrent of push and pull that had pulsed between them all day—kept her from cutting off the possibilities that might exist. It might be silly to think anything could happen between them, but she wasn’t ready to write it off just yet. “The other condition is pizza. I’ve been craving it all day,” she lied, unwilling to admit out loud that she’d been craving something else entirely.

  * * *

  Cane Russo, the popular pizza spot in Deep Ellum, was starting to get crowded, but they managed to snag one of the last tables. Camille watched West look around like she was unfamiliar with the place. “I take it you haven’t been here before.”

  “No. I’ve heard great things, though.”

  Camille had chosen the spot not just because it had great pizza, but also because it wasn’t far from the place West had taken her on their first date. Date? That hadn’t really been a date, and this wasn’t either even if both occasions had felt exactly like that. “If you don’t like it, I’ll owe you another pizza dinner, and you can choose the place.”

  A waitress walked by with a steaming pizza, and the amazing scent wafted through the air. West closed her eyes and smiled. “Wow. I think I’m g
oing to like it here just fine.”

  They ordered and the wood-fired pizza came quickly. In between bites, Camille struggled to find something to talk about that didn’t seem too personal. “What were you doing when I texted you today?”

  “I was on a date.”

  “Really?” Camille braced for whatever she was about to say.

  “Really,” West said. “Lunch and a movie. I ditched the movie to help out a certain judge, but lunch was good.”

  “I’m sorry you missed your movie.”

  “No worries. I didn’t pick the flick. Bill did.”

  “Bill?”

  “He’s my roommate.”

  “Date, huh?”

  “I didn’t say it was a romantic date.”

  Camille tossed a piece of crust at West who feigned injury. Roommate. Camille wasn’t sure why the idea of West having a roommate bothered her. Perhaps because it was a marker of youth, starting out. Young college kids had roommates. West was still at the very beginning of her career while Camille had already experienced several professional successes. But the only reason to be bothered about the difference in their respective places in life was if there was going to be something more to their relationship than judge and clerk. And there wasn’t. Camille tried to imagine showing up at an event with West on her arm. Even if West was perfectly polite, people would talk, and she couldn’t blame them. She’d already noticed the glances West received from some of the more conservative judges and attorneys at the courthouse, certain they disapproved of her edgy appearance, not to mention the hint of a tattoo snaking up the side of her neck. Even her liberal parents would probably be appalled if she showed up at a function with West by her side.

  “Tell me about your tattoo.” She blurted the words without thinking, and West’s look of surprise told her she’d crossed a line. “Sorry, none of my business.”

  West laughed. “Don’t be silly. I was just wondering which one you were asking about.”

  “There’s more than one?”