Sidebar

by Carsen Taite

“Uh-huh.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me how many?”

  “It’s more of a show than tell kind of thing.”

  Acutely conscious she was walking a thin line, Camille gingerly stepped further into the conversation. “Why don’t you tell me about the one I can see?”

  “Fair enough.” West rolled up the rest of her sleeve to reveal an intricate drawing of a dragon. “Dragons are ubiquitous, I know, but that doesn’t make them any less cool, right?”

  Camille reached over, traced the tail, and then drew quickly back as if the act had been unconscious. “What makes this one particularly cool to you?”

  “Well, I was born in the year of the dragon, you know, Chinese zodiac.” West’s eyes took on a faraway look, and Camille suddenly felt like she was intruding on a private memory.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “It’s okay. There’s really not a lot to it. Symbolizes strength, passion, you know, things you need to overcome adversity.”

  Camille wanted to acknowledge without prying even though she was dying to know more about the exact adversities West had overcome. “We could all use a dose of dragon. That one’s pretty intricate. Did it hurt?”

  “Yes. And no amount of alcohol makes it hurt less, no matter what anyone tells you.” She leaned back in her chair. “You’re wondering why anyone would put something so permanent on their body.”

  “A little.”

  “Sometimes you need something permanent. A constant reminder. Especially when everything else about your life has been in flux.” She pointed to the tattoo. “This kept me grounded when I needed it most.”

  Camille took a moment to let West’s words penetrate. She could think of plenty of times she could’ve used something to ground her. After last November’s election, she’d felt like she’d lost her way, unable to reconcile her career choice with the choice of the voters who’d turned on her at the first mistake. In the end, she’d clung to the tenacity that had saved her time and time again and forged a new career path. She tried to imagine what a tattoo representing that would look like.

  “And the others,” Camille asked. “Do they all have special meaning?”

  “Yes, but like I said, you’d have to see them to really get it.”

  Camille sucked in a breath at the thought of West slowly undressing to reveal one story after another. A truly personal telling she’d never witness. Suddenly, the restaurant was claustrophobic and the air crackled with anticipation, threatening to consume her. They’d demolished the pizza and there was no practical reason for them to stay. She looked at her watch. “This was fun, but I need to go.”

  “Have another date?”

  Camille resisted saying this wasn’t a date, but she didn’t bother examining why. Instead she settled on a vague “kind of,” and was immediately sorry to see the disappointment flash in West’s eyes. Better to disappoint her now than let things get too heated between them. She pulled out her wallet. “Let me get this. We spent half of dinner talking about work.”

  West looked like she was about to protest and then changed course. “Sure, whatever.”

  Camille paid the bill and they walked out to the parking lot together. The warm night air only served to magnify the chill between them, and when West insisted on getting an Uber instead of a lift from her, Camille told herself it was best they go their separate ways. She waited until West was in the car, and then reached into her purse for her keys.

  “Judge Avery?”

  The familiar voice came from behind her, and Camille’s first thought was to wonder how long Lloyd had been standing there. Had he seen her with West? Had he read anything telling in their body language? She was being silly. Lloyd Garber wasn’t the kind of guy who noticed anything that didn’t revolve around him. She plastered on a fake smile and turned his way. “Hi, Lloyd.” She nodded at the woman wrapped around his arm. “Are you two having a nice evening?”

  “Absolutely,” Lloyd said, although his date’s expression remained sour. “You out by yourself tonight?”

  “Just grabbing a bite to eat.” She held up her keys and feigned a yawn. “You kids have fun.” She walked briskly away, anxious to escape his questions, only half caring that her failure to introduce herself to Lloyd’s date might be perceived as rude. Of course, he’d seemed more interested in what she was up to than introductions, so she wasn’t sure why she felt bad at all.

  The truth was nothing had happened between her and West, so any guilt or anxiety she felt about the possibility of getting caught socializing with her outside of work was misplaced. She should be more worried about the way West made her feel both on and off the job.

  * * *

  Camille was halfway home when her phone rang. She glanced at the display on her dash. Jay. She pressed the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey, Jay.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Driving.”

  “Wherever you’re headed, abandon the destination. I’m at Luxe. Meet me there.”

  “It’s late, Jay.”

  “Don’t give me that BS. It’s not even eight o’clock on a Saturday night.”

  “Can it wait until another time? I still have work to do.”

  “No. It can’t wait. I promise I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important.”

  Jay rarely asked for favors, and after the way her evening with West ended, she was feeling restless. “One hour and then I’m heading home before I turn into a pumpkin. Understood?”

  “Completely. I’ll leave your name with the doorman.”

  Luxe was a new club in town, trendy and exclusive, and Camille hated it. Jay professed she had joined only to have a place to impress some of her most important clients, but Camille suspected she might actually enjoy the VIP treatment she received as a premier member. Camille found the whole place, from personnel to price, stifling.

  Once she made it past the gatekeeper at the door who’d spelled her name wrong, she walked back to the special members section roped off from the rest of the well-heeled crowd with tall blue velvet curtains.

  “Camille!”

  She turned and Jay drew her into a hug. “I was by the door, but I didn’t see you come in.”

  “Probably because Mr. Hulk, aka gatekeeper, was blocking the view. If this place does such a good job of screening out the undesirables for membership, you’d think you wouldn’t need a bouncer at the door.”

  “Someone’s grumpy. No worries. I have something that’s going to cheer you right up. Come with me.”

  Camille didn’t have time to protest before Jay grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward one of the curtained off sections. “What’s the surprise?”

  “Make that who’s the surprise. I’m here with Liz, and she brought a friend who just happens to be on assignment in Dallas for the next six months. And what a friend she is.”

  Camille pulled back. “Oh no you don’t. If you’d told me this was a setup, I could have saved you the trouble and me the trip.”

  “Don’t be a killjoy, Avery. The best remedy for a stressful job is a carefree personal life. Besides, I checked her out already. She has the perfect pedigree and she’s smart and gorgeous. Would I ever steer you wrong?”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t mean to.”

  “One drink. If you aren’t interested after that, I’ll tip the valet and send you on your way. Deal?”

  Camille weighed her options. She was already here. If she went home, chances are she would try to work, and West would distract her thoughts. Maybe a drink with a pretty stranger was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of everything else. “One drink.” She held up a finger as Jay’s face glowed with victory. “I reserve the right to bug out before my drink is done if she’s a dud.”

  “She’s not, and you won’t.” Jay looped their arms. “Trust me.”

  Camille followed Jay into the curtained-off private room, prepared for anything. Liz, Jay’s on-again, off-again, girlfriend, was seated on a
cushioned sofa with a bottle of Cristal and four glasses on the table in front of her. “Hey, Camille, come on in. Allow me to introduce you to my dear friend, Sadie Jackson.”

  As if on cue, a tall, leggy brunette appeared from Camille’s right. Jay had not been wrong. Sadie was beautiful. Honey brown waves of hair framed her classically beautiful face, and her deep brown eyes seemed to read Camille’s hesitation. “Nice to meet you in person. Don’t worry, I hate setups and blind dates. They’re the worst.”

  “So instead of lying in wait, plotting ways to win me over, you’ve been planning your escape?”

  “Something like that.” Sadie pointed to the table. “But the champagne is top-notch, so there’s that.”

  Witty, pretty. Camille made two mental marks in the plus column. “Looks like you’ve had a little more time to prepare for this. How about you pour me a glass and we can commiserate.”

  While Sadie poured her drink, Camille looked over at Jay who mouthed “told you so” and then grabbed Liz’s hand. “You kids can bitch about us in private. We’re going to dance.” They vanished past the curtain before Camille could say a word.

  “Those two don’t play nice,” Sadie said, handing over a glass of bubbly.

  “True.” Camille took a sip. “Please tell me you made them buy.”

  “Absolutely. This stuff is special occasion only for me. Although, tonight is turning out to be way more of a special occasion than I thought.”

  “You did not just give me a line, did you?”

  “I guess I did. Pretty lame, huh?”

  Camille started to say yes, but she’d already started to relax. This fun banter came with no strings attached, unlike the flirtatious conversations she’d had with West that were loaded with risk. She surrendered to the moment. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman that waits to be invited, but please, have a seat. Tell me all about your day. Liz tells me you’re a federal judge.”

  “True. I spent the day working, I’m afraid. Big trial coming up.”

  “Civil, criminal?”

  Not the type of question a layperson usually asked. “Criminal. Are you a lawyer?”

  “Doctor, but I’ve testified in plenty of court cases.”

  “Specialty?”

  “Trauma surgeon.”

  “Ah, adrenaline junkie.”

  “I do like a good rush.”

  “Jay said you’re here on assignment. Where from?”

  “Chicago. I’m here to help train some of the fellows at a partner hospital.”

  Smart, stable. Two more checks in the plus column. Add to that the fact that unlike all the other eligible women in town, Sadie didn’t know anything about her and probably hadn’t seen any of the headlines crucifying her in the press. For all Sadie knew, Camille had been a federal judge for years.

  They made small talk for a while, and eventually Liz and Jay reappeared, but when Jay suggested a second bottle, Camille begged off. “I still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Enjoy your champagne.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Sadie said. Camille started to protest, but Sadie was by her side in record time. She slipped her arm through Camille’s, and they strolled through the crowded bar to the front door where Sadie stopped and turned to face Camille. “This was one of the best non dates I’ve had in a while.”

  “You know, it was for me too,” Camille replied. She stared into Sadie’s questioning eyes, unable to tell exactly what she was asking and uncertain she’d have an answer even if she could.

  “You sound surprised. How about this? Let’s have another non date soon and see if this was just a fluke?”

  Camille paused. Sadie was perfect. Funny, smart, good-looking. She should be crushing hard right now, but all she felt was the pull of what she should be feeling instead of actual emotion. Maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough. Jay always said she gave up too easy. What harm could it do to go on another date? “That sounds like a perfect idea.”

  Chapter Ten

  West ran until she could no longer feel her feet, but the brutal exercise didn’t improve her mood. Endorphins, my ass. Now she had one more reason to hate this Monday morning.

  She kicked off her shoes just inside the door and padded her way to the kitchen. Bill was lounging at the table with a cup of coffee and a box of donuts that made her want to punch him in the face.

  “You look like shit,” he said before biting into an enormous powdered pastry.

  West waved a hand in the air. “And you’re a slob. Who’s going to wipe up all this sugar? And you think Gabe’s going to want to marry someone who’s carrying around twenty extra pounds of donut weight?”

  “Uh, who said anything about marriage? Besides, Gabe brought the donuts and loves me just the way I am.” Bill patted his stomach and then waved. “Hey, honey, West thinks I’m getting fat.”

  West turned to see Gabe standing behind her. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

  “Close enough.”

  “I heard everything,” Gabe said. “You girls need to quit fighting.” He pointed at West. “Sit. Eat a donut. Lord knows you could use one.”

  She slid into a chair and stared at the pink box while Gabe fixed her a cup of coffee and set it down in front of her. “Now,” he said. “Do you want to tell us what’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  “She’s been in a foul mood since she ditched me for work on Saturday,” Bill said. “They’re overworking you, kid. You want me to give the judge a call and tell her you’re taking a mental health day?”

  “Don’t even think about it.” West instantly regretted her snapped reaction, because Bill’s eyes opened wide and he went into teasing mode.

  “What’s up, darling?” he asked. “Trouble in paradise?”

  She reached for a donut, more as a distraction than because she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten much since Camille had left for her date Saturday night, and her appetite wasn’t the only thing that was off. She’d canceled lunch with Hank and Diane yesterday, certain Hank would be able to tell something was wrong, and not wanting to have to dissect her feelings or hide the truth. She shouldn’t have gone running this morning on an empty stomach, but pounding out her frustrations seemed like the only reasonable way to deal with the irritating image of Camille on a date.

  “There’s no such thing as paradise,” she said. “Well, unless you count this donut.” She tore off a chunk of the maple iced long john and shoved it in her mouth.

  “Stop teasing her,” Gabe said. He picked up the paper and started reading. “Hey, isn’t this the name of the judge you’re working for?” He folded the paper and handed it over.

  West scanned the page until she spotted the small article under the fold. The headline read Jury Selection to Begin Next Week in Overdose Death of Richards University Student, followed by a three-paragraph mention of the trial that was starting in a week. The reporter mentioned Camille as the newly appointed federal judge and provided a thumbnail sketch of the charges, along with a brief “no comment” from the government and a “he’s not guilty” from the defense. “Yes, that’s her. Trial starts next Monday. It’s a pretty interesting case.”

  “I remember when that girl went missing. Didn’t they think the boyfriend did it?”

  “The cops thought a lot of people were suspects from what I hear. I don’t know if anyone will ever know what really happened, but the government charged Wilson with selling her the drugs she overdosed on. He’s looking at a potential life sentence.”

  “Sad.”

  West nodded. Everything about the case was sad, from the wealthy co-ed with a bright future who’d become a drug addict, left for dead in the woods, to the convicted murderer left unsupervised so he could resume his criminal ways. She’d spent the summers advocating for the oppressed, many of the cases focused on overturning decades-old criminal convictions, long past the time when the presumption of innocence had passed. Those cases often involved the
same kind of overreaching from prosecutors that this one did, but never had she felt such a personal connection to the victim. From the moment she’d read the indictment, she’d been torn between sorrow at the indignity Leslie Silver had suffered and anger that she’d willingly put herself in danger by using. The vivid description of how construction workers had stumbled across her naked body, wrapped in a rug, stirred memories of the day she’d come home from school to find her mother, naked on the bathroom floor, a needle still hanging from her arm and her body battered from the man who’d raped her and left her for dead. The comparison left West cold.

  She shook her head. She had no business letting her personal aversion get in the way of this case, or any cases for that matter, but it wasn’t easy. Still, she didn’t believe someone should be facing life in prison for selling a commodity in such high demand. Wilson should go to prison for violating drug laws, but punishing him also because the willing drug user had overdosed? Total overreaching.

  But it didn’t matter what she thought. Camille had already made it clear she wasn’t about to declare a well-settled federal law unconstitutional and the issue wasn’t hers to raise anyway.

  “West?”

  She tuned back in to see Bill waving a napkin in front of her face. “What?”

  “Don’t you need to get to work? It’s almost eight o’clock.”

  “Shit.” She’d fallen into a post-run, donut sugar coma, and now she had negative minutes to shower and drive downtown. Balancing how she felt about this case and her growing feelings for Camille was going to be the death of her.

  * * *

  Camille poked her head into the office Lloyd and West shared. Lloyd was combing through a binder, but West was nowhere in sight. She’d already looked in the kitchenette and the conference room, and there was no sign of her in either place. In a minute, she was going to have to resort to asking someone if she wanted to know where West was.

  And she did. The realization surprised her a little. She’d gotten used to West being around, and when she wasn’t, everything felt a bit off. Plus, she wanted to smooth over how they’d parted Saturday night, but she wasn’t going to be able to tackle that uncomfortable subject unless she could catch her alone.