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by Carsen Taite

  But all her equivocating was just that. The real reason she wanted new clothes was because of how much face time she’d be having with Camille when the trial started. She and Lloyd would be in the courtroom for most of the trial, as they’d be expected to prepare any legal memos Camille would need to rule on issues that might arise. She wanted to look good if only to let Camille know what she was missing.

  Bill insisted on buying lunch to make up for breaking his promise to stick with her at the bar. Over mimosas and migas at La Duni, he struck up the conversation about the night before. “You’re judging me for leaving the bar with Trent.”

  “I’m not. Although I am proud of you for knowing his name.”

  “You are, a little.”

  “Not hardly. Like I know anything about relationships.”

  “Do you like that girl you were dancing with?”

  “Kelsey? I don’t know her well enough to like her or not. Seriously, it was just the one dance.”

  “You seemed kind of into her.”

  “I may have been thinking about someone else at the time.”

  “And you’re accusing me of two-timing?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. I swear. I don’t really get what you and Gabe have going on, but if you’re both cool with it, then I am too. But we were talking about me, and it’s complicated.”

  “That’s what people say when they don’t want to commit to something.”

  “You’re lecturing me about commitment?”

  “No, I’m just saying that the hard part is making a decision. The commitment I have with Gabe is simple. When we’re together, it’s just us. When we’re apart we can do what we want. It would only be complicated if we didn’t agree.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  “It is.”

  West drank down half of her mimosa. “It’s Camille.” When Bill responded with a dumb look, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Judge Avery. You know, my boss.”

  “You’re going to need to speak in complete sentences.”

  “I have a thing for Camille Avery.” West spoke slowly and over-enunciated her words.

  “Oh,” Bill said and then realization dawned. “Oh, yeah, that’s a little complicated. What the hell, West? There’s like dozens of available women you could fall for and you pick the one you work for?”

  “I didn’t pick her. It just happened. Besides, I met her before she was my boss.”

  “This is so not a good idea. Maybe you’re just having a schoolgirl crush. Trust me, it will go away.”

  West considered the idea that what she felt for Camille was only a crush, but quickly rejected it. She’d had plenty of crushes before, but this was different. The memory of their kiss gripped her still. It was hot and steamy and she’d felt the connection in every cell of her body. Crushes were fleeting and surface, but what she felt for Camille burned at her core. This was no crush, but it was very complicated. If only Bill was right and it would just go away.

  * * *

  “What do you mean you’re skipping brunch?”

  “Get in here.” Camille wished she hadn’t opened the door, but now Jay was standing on the threshold and she had no choice but to invite her in because she wasn’t having this conversation in view of her next-door neighbor, Mr. Dimitri, who was pretending to trim his rosebushes.

  She led the way to the kitchen. “Coffee, juice?”

  “Uh, they’ll have plenty of that where we’re headed.” Jay checked her watch. “Get dressed and let’s go.”

  Camille looked down at her sweats. She planned to change clothes, but for the office, not for brunch with the girls. “Jay, I’ve got to work today.”

  “All work and no play…”

  “Not fair. I play.”

  “Not what I hear.” Jay poured herself a cup of coffee and settled at the bar counter in the kitchen. “Tell me about your date with Sadie.”

  “We had a nice time. She’s very nice.”

  “You’re using the word nice a little too much.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to tell me why you bailed on such a nice date.” She punctuated nice with finger quotes.

  “Did she call you?”

  “Yes, but I want to hear your version.”

  “I don’t have a version. We had a nice,” she winced at the word, but kept going, “dinner, but then I started not to feel good and called it early.”

  “Really?”

  “Seriously, Jay. That’s it.” Camille hoped she would buy the lie, but she could tell by the dubious look on Jay’s face, it wasn’t happening. She sank into a chair. “I don’t need to be dating right now. This job, it’s more than I thought it would be, and I need to focus my attention on getting it right.”

  Jay took a sip of her coffee. “This is good stuff. Much better than the lies you’re telling. What’s really going on?”

  Camille wavered. Part of her wanted to tell Jay everything. How she spent her days simultaneously trying to avoid her law clerk while at the same time inventing excuses to be alone with her. But another part of her was scared if she said the words out loud, it would be too real. And then what? What’s the worst thing that could happen? She took a deep breath and plunged in. “I kissed West.”

  Jay scrunched her eyes and furrowed her brow. “You did what to who?”

  “Don’t make me say it again.”

  “Isn’t West the girl we saw on the street a couple of weeks ago? The young one who was striking up conversations with homeless people?”

  “Woman, but yes, that was her.”

  “And she’s your law clerk?”

  “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve got that something doesn’t smell right look on your face.”

  “Give me a minute to process.” Jay slowly began nodding her head. “Makes perfect sense now.”

  “What?”

  “You acted all giddy when we ran into her downtown. I haven’t seen you act that way since…Hell, I don’t remember. And then you pass on the hot, no strings attached surgeon. But seriously, Camille, how serious can this thing be? I mean she’s your law clerk.”

  “Quit saying that. It was just a kiss. Once. It won’t happen again.” Camille nearly flinched at the lie, but she was dead set on convincing them both it was true.

  “How old is she?”

  Camille shifted in her seat. “Late twenties.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I didn’t hire her. Judge Blair did. I just agreed to keep her on.”

  “I guess you went the extra mile to make her feel welcome,” Jay said with a wry smile.

  “Shut up. She kissed me, not the other way around.” The memory of the kiss came back full force. West standing close, the sweet taste of her soft lips pressing hard into hers. Camille had kissed back, her desire so strong she’d barely struggled against the impulse, and she’d been thinking about the kiss ever since. Rather than admit the lie, she settled on a half-truth. “I didn’t stop her. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

  “I guess that explains why you tanked your date with Sadie.”

  “It wasn’t planned. Sadie insisted on going to S4 after dinner and West was there.” At Jay’s panicked look, she rushed to say, “I didn’t do anything. I just told Sadie I wasn’t feeling well, and we left.”

  “You haven’t told anyone else yet, have you?”

  “You’re the only one.”

  “I know you know this, but as the former chair of your reelection committee, I have to say it. I’m into having as much fun as the next person, but you cannot sleep with your law clerk. Bad karma, bad politics, bad everything. Nothing good can come of it.”

  Camille nodded. Jay was right, and she knew it, which was exactly why she’d dashed away from West’s warm touch when every ounce of her had been screaming to stay and indulge the fantasy. But fantasy was all it was. In the real world, good bosses didn’t sleep with their employees, and j
udges who’d been burned by controversy didn’t tempt fate.

  “You sure I can’t convince you to join us for brunch?”

  “Sorry, but with this trial starting tomorrow, I need to work.” At Jay’s stare, she added, “By myself.”

  Camille spent the hour after Jay left in a distracted daze before deciding working at home was proving completely unproductive. She changed out of her sweats into jeans, an oxford cloth shirt, and a blazer and drove downtown. Like the weekends before, the court building was eerily quiet, but more so because she was there alone. Or so she thought. As she made her way down the hall toward her office, she heard footfalls behind her, and she looked back, hating herself for hoping it was West. It wasn’t.

  “I was hoping I would find you here,” Judge Stroud said. “May I come in?”

  “Certainly.” Camille unlocked the door to the suite and walked straight to her office. She motioned to the couch and chair by her desk, but he remained standing. “Big day tomorrow,” she said, willing him to get the hint and leave her alone.

  “I won’t keep you long.” He walked over to her bookshelf and picked up a picture of her with her father. “I remember the first time I tried a case. Your dad and I were trial partners. I threw up at least three times before jury selection started. By the time I accepted the appointment to this bench, I’d tried dozens of cases and I didn’t think anything could faze me, but there’s something about presiding over a big case…I only threw up once before the first trial in my court, and it was a simple felon in possession of a firearm.”

  Camille cleared her throat. “Is this supposed to be some kind of pep talk?”

  Stroud laughed. “Sorry about that. But I actually have a point. I realize how important this case is in terms of launching your new career. You’ll make some errors, everyone does, but if you eliminate any distractions before it starts, you’ll have a much better chance of getting through it unscathed. I assume you’ll have one of the clerks in the courtroom with you during the trial. Have you decided which one?”

  He knew something. Camille’s gut churned at the word distraction, and by the time he said the word clerks, she was in full on panic. Breathe, breathe. “I was thinking I’d have both of them watch. Seems like it would be a good learning experience.”

  “Maybe. But maybe a better experience would be that you don’t always get to do the fun stuff. Sometimes you have to stay behind the scenes.”

  “Makes sense,” she said, but it didn’t make any sense at all. She wasn’t at all sure what he was talking about, but he didn’t seem inclined to explain, and trepidation kept her from asking.

  “I knew you’d agree,” he said, walking toward the door. “I’m heading out, but I wish you the best of luck tomorrow. I’ll stop in during the trial just to see how it’s going.”

  He left, waving his hand over his shoulder and saying good-bye. Camille stared after him, doing her best to discern some meaning out of the odd visit, but she eventually gave up in favor of getting some work done.

  The Wilson file was arranged neatly in the center of her desk. Since she’d last seen most of it spread around on the conference room table, she knew West had to have been the one to place it there. A note on top, in West’s neat and precise handwriting said simply, Let me know if you need anything else.

  Such a simple yet loaded statement. The list of things Camille needed was long, but at the top of the list was her wish that the circumstances between her and West were different. And what then? Would she have introduced West to her friends, her parents, and her colleagues? Everyone who knew her would think she was having a midlife crisis if she showed up with a much younger girlfriend.

  Girlfriend. The word shocked her back to reality. West, thoughtful, intelligent, rebellious West, would probably make an excellent girlfriend, but not for her. She needed someone stable, steady, and accomplished. Someone who would enjoy being on her arm for formal functions, someone focused on career, someone who didn’t challenge her every idea, her every preconception. Someone like Sadie. West was a distraction, and she would not allow her focus to waver.

  She picked up her phone to call Sadie and apologize about their aborted date, but stopped when she spotted a large brown envelope tucked under her desk phone. Under normal circumstances, an envelope on her desk could mean any number of things, but she recognized the familiar big block letters on the outside stating simply PRIVATE: JUDGE AVERY.

  Camille hunched forward, staring at the envelope like it was a coiled snake. She’d come to the office to work, but she had a strong feeling whatever was in this envelope was going to derail her plans. She should call the marshal’s office, let them process it for evidence, but curiosity spurred her to grasp it by the corner, pull it toward her, and twist open the clasp. When she shook out the contents, a photograph and a clipped stack of paper landed on her desk.

  She examined the photo first, intimately familiar with the subject, but completely stymied as to who had captured the picture of her kissing West in the kitchen not ten yards away from where she was sitting right now. She turned the photo over and read the ugly, puzzling words several times: QUIT OR EVERYTHING WILL BE REVEALED.

  The memory of how the searing kiss had consumed her was now tainted by the knowledge someone had violated their private moment and was using it as a threat. She’d been certain she’d heard someone that night, but it had never crossed her mind that whoever it was had been documenting her indiscretion. She shoved the photo back in the envelope and examined the stack of papers that had accompanied it. The first page blared the words PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL in large, bold letters, but it was the name below the warning that caught her eye. West Fallon.

  Certain she shouldn’t be digging deeper, but consumed with curiosity, Camille flipped the page and started reading. An hour later, she shoved the papers aside, wishing she could unsee every word.

  * * *

  West stood on the sidewalk outside of Judge Blair’s house wearing a new shirt and carrying a bouquet of flowers, but her thoughts were firmly fixed on the memory of the day she’d run into Camille in this very spot. Camille had been as polite as possible while turning her down, and she hadn’t known at the time the woman pressing her for a date was going to wind up being her employee. She turned me down then, so why am I surprised she’s rejecting me now?

  The answer was the rush of want they both felt when they were close. It consumed West, and she could see it consumed Camille too. The way her eyes darkened, the hitch in her breath, her hungry lips begging for more, left no doubt that in the moment, Camille was right there with her, ready and willing. But no matter what, Camille was somehow able to break the current and walk away. Every. Single. Time.

  West didn’t get it. If she were smart, she would stop trying to stoke the flames. Maybe when the Wilson trial was over, she’d quit. Maybe then Camille would see her for something other than just her law clerk. She’d explain to Hank this job just wasn’t working out, that it was getting in the way of the full, rich life he’d always said he wanted her to have. She imagined explaining to him the full, rich life involved Camille. She knew he’d disapprove, and she had to admit, she still cared about his approval.

  Like the last time she’d visited, Diane greeted her at the door. “These are for you,” West said, shoving the flowers at her, feeling silly all at once for the overly chivalrous gesture.

  “Thank you, West. They’re beautiful.” Diane smelled the bouquet. “I love tulips. How thoughtful.”

  West shrugged. She picked them for the pretty colors, and the attention made her uncomfortable. “Is Hank upstairs?”

  “He is. Go on up. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

  “Got it.”

  Hank was napping in his wheelchair behind the desk, and West paused in the doorway. He looked like he’d aged several years in the past few weeks. Impossible, but she couldn’t deny something had changed. She considered ducking back downstairs and telling Diane she didn’t have the heart to wake h
im when his eyes fluttered open.

  “West,” he said, his voice sluggish. “Have you been here long?”

  “Just got here, but I can go back downstairs if you want to keep napping. I’m told we have thirty minutes until dinner.”

  “You’re hilarious. Have a seat. Let’s catch up.”

  West sank into the couch. Catching up wasn’t on her agenda since telling him about the last few weeks would necessarily involve talking about Camille. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m starting to regain some of the muscle memory in my left side, but I still sound like I’m trying to talk around marbles.”

  “It’s cool. I can understand you just fine. You look tired.”

  “Physical therapist is a slave driver.”

  “Ester says hello,” West said. “She misses you, but not your penchant for getting to the office in the middle of the night.”

  “Seven a.m. is not the middle of the night,” Hank said. “Besides I’m sure Judge Avery has a pretty tight schedule having taken over a docket that’s been sitting idle for way too long.”

  “We’ll all be working pretty long hours with the Wilson trial starting tomorrow. It’s supposed to last three weeks.”

  “I’ve seen the articles in the paper. I was surprised to hear Stroud hadn’t reassigned the case or at the very least granted a continuance.”

  West read the worry in his eyes. “Why?”

  “First off, it’s a pretty complex case, at least in terms of the various legal issues that are likely to be raised.”

  “You think Cam—I mean, Judge Avery isn’t up to handling the legal issues?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He smiled like an indulgent parent. “Besides, she has you, right?”

  “Nice save, but seriously, what did you mean?”

  “I’m sure she can handle anything that comes her way, but it’s her first trial on this bench. A federal trial is very different from one in state court. The formality alone takes some getting used to, but having to make decisions on the fly about statutes she hasn’t parsed through in a while, especially in a high profile case like this one, is a big deal. The press is going to write about this case every day, and whatever they say about her will either be the building block for her future career or the hole she’ll spend years digging out of.”