by Alex Tempera
“Thank you. You will be informed with our decision by the end of the week.” Maxwell said.
“Thank you for your time,” she stood up and nodded slightly. She turned and strutted out of the room.
Sydney took a deep breath and walked out of the courthouse and down the steps when a woman stepped in front of her with a microphone. “What’s this about?” Sydney stopped.
“Sheila Evans, Channel two news.”
“I know who you are. Why are you shoving that thing in my face?”
“Judge, is it true that you’re being appointed to the appellate court?”
Sydney lower the microphone away from her face. “It’s being considered. It’s not official yet.”
All of a sudden, a group of reporters appeared in front of her, three steps down from her position. “What about your husband?” a man yelled.
“My husband?” she asked.
“There have been reports that he’s been sleeping with his male boss, Tim Reynolds,” another voice said.
Before she could even say no comment, another reporter shoved a tape recorder in her face. “Some reports say that your clerk likes to cross dress, is it true that he’s a transgender? Does he wear his dresses in chambers?”
Sydney took a deep breath, when she felt a presence behind her. She didn’t even have to turn around. She felt the warmth of his touch when he placed his hand on her shoulder. “All right, I do have a statement to make,” she said.
Paxton stepped on the step next to her and put his arm around his wife. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I thought you needed me.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Can you do this?”
“Now that you’re here, yes,” she smiled. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he smiled. “My wife has a statement to make but first, I want to say something.”
The reporters hushed to a silence and focused their microphones and recorders toward Paxton.
“I’m Paxton Carlton III. Judge Sydney Carlton is my wife and in two weeks, we’re getting married. I have heard that there were rumors of an affair between my boss and myself, and yes, that was true. I was wrong and the only ones I had to make amends with is myself and my wife. I’m lucky that she forgave me.”
“You had sex with your boss? Mr. Reynolds is gay?”
“And he’s involved in a serious relationship now,” Paxton said. “Mr. Reynolds sexual life should not and does not reflect his work in the District Attorney’s office.”
Sydney took Paxton’s hand, linking her fingers with his. “Some people are using our private life to determine what we do in our career. If the people of New York do not want me sitting on the appellate court because I’m in love with my husband, then I cannot stop them from voicing their opinion. My marriage is private and what I do or don’t do within my home with my husband, is no one’s business. Too many times people are judged by who they sleep with. It’s a sad world we live in when people are too afraid to be who they really are and think that they have to hide for fear of public persecution. It would be a better world for all of us, if everyone was true to themselves first and the public second.” She looked at the reporters listening intently.
“As for my career and credentials for this appellate position, I was a criminal attorney at the law offices of Deter, Markum & Ellerby for five years and then was offered a partnership. I didn’t accept the partnership because I was appointed to the Supreme Court when Judge Ellis retired. I have been on my bench for six years. None of my convictions have ever been questioned or overturned. I never planned on moving to the appellate court. Now, I was appointed by Judge Bishop, but I removed my appointment under his support, as I do not agree with Bishop’s tactics or politics. I have asked the committee for support with another appointment, and now it’s in their hands. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home with my husband.” She took his hand and led him through the crowd of reporters as the crowd separated to let them pass through. The reporters continued to take photos of the couple as they walked down toward the sidewalk.
Twenty Six
Paxton set two plates of pasta on the table and poured them both a glass of wine. “So, John and Tim have a date tonight.”
“I heard,” she said. “They had an intense kiss on the front steps this morning and now the entire courthouse is talking about it.”
“Oh, interesting. Tim was in his office most of the day, so I didn’t get to talk much, but then, on my way out, he mentioned their date. He knew I called the reporters.”
“Good. I hope he wasn’t caught off guard.”
“No,” he patted her hand. “I told him what I was doing. Now, you did seem caught off guard.”
“Oh, well when Sheila from Channel 2 shoved her microphone in my face, I was a bit surprised. They thought they were hiding from me and were going to pounce. So, they have no idea you called in the tip?”
“Nope, and you were excellent, my love.” He sipped his wine and then twirled his spaghetti on his fork. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“What? Oh, yeah,” she sighed, sipping her wine. “Why did I even do this?”
“Do what?” he took a bite of his food and chewed it slowly.
“Ask the committee to reappoint me. I don’t even know if I want to do it.”
“Well, you don’t know if they’re going to find you another judge to support you. We do know that Bishop is retiring, and I’m sure those reporters are digging the hell out of his background looking for dirt. You didn’t have to give his secrets, just mention that you didn’t agree with his tactics and politics. They know that’s code for him being unethical or keeping a secret. You put your secret, well, mine out in the open.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I did it wrong.”
“Nope. I support you. I just wish my indiscretions didn’t affect you, my love.”
“They always did, you just didn’t know that they did.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not hungry.” She stood up from the table and tossed her napkin on her plate. “I need some air.” She quickly walked out of the kitchen. She continued walking out the back door of the large house and out to the rose garden. She found herself sitting on the bench just near the blooming purple hybrid Tea Lady X roses. The Lady X were her favorite, as her rose garden was five rows of different types, colors, and hybrids of roses. She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face. “I guess I’m still afraid,” she whispered.
She didn’t turn around when he came up behind her. “Afraid of what?” he kneeled on the ground and faced her. “Syd?”
She looked down. “I never told you or even admitted how much I loved you. How much I loved you the day we married. How much I loved you the day we met. I knew we had a deal and I never told you how I felt every time I heard you bring another man in your bedroom. How I would go downstairs or sit out here until he left so I didn’t have to hear you fucking him, or worse yet, him fucking you. I never told you how I wished and prayed that one day, you’d come to me and say it was a mistake. That you weren’t gay. That you wanted me and only me. That one day, when we had sex on our birthdays or even our anniversary, that it would be more than sex. It would be making love.”
“I love you and I was wrong. I don’t know how I could’ve gone my entire life and not realize what I had and what I wanted was right in front of my face. I don’t know how to ever make up to you how much I hurt you. I can only promise that I will always love you. I will only love you. I will only make love to you. I will do whatever you wish of me. I just wish one thing.”
“What’s that? You want me to go back to the doctor? I’ll do it. I’d get a penis for you.”
“No, my love. I don’t want you to change one thing about your body. About your heart. About your soul.”
“Then what do you wish, my love?” she wiped her eyes.
He sniffed and took her hand, kissing her engagement ring. “That you’d forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
“
For every heart break. For every man I ever had sex with. For not telling you four years ago that I loved you. For not telling you 25 years ago that I loved you.”
“Uh, you actually did. The moment I shared my snack with you and we traded halves of our sandwich, you said I’m gonna love you forever.”
“Oh, right, well, I’m glad I said that. I just wish I kept my word.”
“Will you love me forever now?”
“Yes,” he straightened his body. “I will love you forever and always, and when I die, I will still love you. Whether I go to Heaven or Hell, I will always love you.”
“Then answer me one question.” She patted the seat next to her on the bench.
“Of course,” he said, as he rose and sat next to her. “What is it?”
“I want the number of men you had sex with and who had sex with you.”
“The total?”
“Yes,” she took his hand. “Tell me.”
“One hundred and sixty five. And yes, we always wore condoms and I’ve always been tested, every six months, even though I was safe.”
“So, one hundred and sixty-five, huh?”
“Yes, I’m guessing that’s a lot.”
“I’d say,” she sighed. “Well, then there is one way you can make up for the 165 times you broke my heart.”
He gulped. “I never thought of it that way. How can you ever forgive me?” he stared down at his feet.
“Yes, for the next 165 days, you’re going to make my breakfast, make my dinner, put fresh roses in my room, and …” she paused.
“And?”
“Every night, for 165 days, you’re going to rub my feet while you kneel naked on the floor.”
“That’s it?”
“No, but that’s what you do to make up for the 165 men. You will still be my sub. You will still be my husband. You will still make love to me, and I will make love to you. We will still play with our other subs, and you will still only ever love me.”
“I agree,” he touched her face. “Starting today?”
“Starting tomorrow. Right now, I’d like to finish dinner and then relax and lay in your arms while watching my favorite movie.”
“I’ll heat up our food.”
“Go on in, I’ll be right there.” she watched as he headed toward the house. “I forgave you a week ago, my love. Just don’t hurt me again.” She stood up and breathed in the lingering scent of her roses, and then headed into the house.
John sat across the table at the restaurant from Tim. “You’re awfully quiet,” he said.
“Oh, sorry,” he sipped his wine. “I was just thinking of the press conference. I don’t know if you knew, but Paxton made the tip to the press.”
“I figured that and I’m sure that’s why she sent me home early, so I didn’t get bombarded.”
“You think you will now?”
“I don’t know. Once the committee decides, then it will all blow over. Whether she’s appointed or not.”
“You think she will be?”
“I’m not sure. Her speech was very effective. Anyway, we’ll just wait and see. She asked me to stand up with her at her wedding.”
“Paxton asked me the same thing. Well, to stand up with him. I’m glad they found each other.”
“I’m glad we did,” John said.
“So, am I,” Tim patted his hand, then he took out his wallet and put his credit card in the folder with the check. “Shall we take a walk?”
“Sure, but I’ll get the next check,” John smiled.
The waiter took the check and then returned with his card. “Have a good evening, Mr. Reynolds. Mr. Remington.”
“Thank you,” the two men stood up and walked out of the restaurant. “Where to?” John asked.
“Let’s just walk down this way toward the park. It’s quiet this time of night,” Tim put his arm around John. “Do you feel what I feel?”
“You mean, everyone staring at us?”’
“No, I mean everyone smiling or nodding at us. I used to be so afraid, and somehow, being with you, makes me not afraid.”
“Me either,” John smiled as they crossed the street and headed to the park.
“Faggot!” they heard from behind them. They turned around, thinking it was aimed toward them, and they wanted to confront it, but they just saw the man on the ground, and someone running down the street with a baseball bat in his hand.
John ran to the old man’s side as Tim pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. “It’s all right,” John took off his jacket and put it under the man’s head.
Tim kneeled when he hung up and took off his jacket, and covered the bloodied man. “Bishop?” he whispered.
Harold Bishop cried incoherently and his body shook with terror. “D-don’t hurt me,” he wept.
John held him in his arms. “Don’t move. We’re not gonna hurt you. We’ll take care of you,” he used his handkerchief to put pressure on his head wound that kept bleeding.
Tim stood up when the ambulance and two squad cars arrived. He walked over to the officer in charge. “It was a hate crime. That’s Justice Harold Bishop. Someone hit him with a baseball bat and called him a faggot.”
“Did you see him?” the officer wrote down some notes as the paramedics tended to Bishop.
John walked over to the officer. “He’s on his way to Mercy General. We heard someone yell faggot and by the time we turned around, Bishop was on the ground and a man was running away. He had a baseball bat in his hand.”
“Must be from the news tonight.”
“Did we miss something?” Tim asked. “We knew about Judge Carlton’s press conference. Was there something else?”
“I guess someone leaked a photo of Bishop to the news. He was dressed in a pink dress, pink collar, and some kind of pink tale sticking out of his ass.”
“Oh, damn.” John said.
Tim looked at the officer. “Do you need anything else from us? We’d like to go to the hospital and see how he’s doing.”
“No, that’s fine. If I have any questions, I can call your office in the morning.”
“Thank you, officer,” Tim put his arm around John. “We better call the Carlton’s.”
“What photo got leaked and who leaked it?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen him dressed like that at the club.”
“Me either,” they headed across the street and hailed a cab.
Twenty Seven
Mr. Donnelly hurried down the hospital corridor to the waiting room of the Emergency Department. “Tim, what the hell happened?” Sean asked.
“Who called you?” Tim and John stood up.
“Judge Carlton called. I guess she’s on her way here. How is he?”
“The doctors are still with him. The officer said there was a photo that was leaked to the press. I’ve got a call into the station to see if they can tell me where it came from or at least send me a copy of it.” Tim explained.
“I didn’t see the news. Did you?”
“Just Judge Carlton’s press conference,” Tim said, pointing down the hall.
Sydney and Paxton hurried into the waiting room. “Any word?”
“Nothing yet. We were just taking a walk in the park and we heard someone yell faggot. We thought it was for us, but when we turned around, he was on the ground.”
“What the hell is a 70 year old man doing in the park at night? He doesn’t even live in the city.”
“No, he lives in Ulster,” Sydney said.
Tim pulled his cell phone out when it chimed. “I got a text from the station manager. This photo was emailed from a general justice account at the courthouse. No signature.” He watched as the photo loaded and then showed it to the rest of them.
“That old fucker!” Donnelly said. “Are you sure he’s the victim?”
“He was beaten. Blood all over him,” John said. “It was real blood and there was a real attacker.”
“And he just happen to be beaten behind the tw
o of you?”
“Sean, what are you getting at?” Paxton asked.
“That photo. It’s a selfie he took of himself and sent to me three months ago. I told him I liked seeing him in pink and then he sent me that, from his phone to my email. I have a secured email account and I deleted the email and saved the photo to an encrypted file.”
“He sent the photo of himself to the press? Why?” Paxton asked.
Sydney shook her head. “To make us look bad. We didn’t expose his secret but there was the implication that he did something wrong. So it now looks like I sent the photo to the press to make him look bad, therefore make me look bad.”
“Will it work?” John asked.
“Probably not. The station can track the email. I don’t use email at work. I only use the internal chat when conversing with another judge. Everything else I do is documented on paper. Even my memos and internal notes are on paper.”
Sean looked toward the man, wearing a long lab coat, who approached them. “Doctor? How is he?”
“His wounds were superficial. Head wounds bleed a lot, but he’s old and I have to keep him overnight. Are you his family?”
“No, just colleagues. He’s a retiring judge of the New York State Appellate Court.”
“Oh, that’s why he keeps muttering the word faggot?”
“To you or to someone else?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, but he’ll be here overnight and then he can go home.”
“Well, thank you, doctor,” Sydney shook his hand. “I’m glad he’ll be all right. Can I see him for a moment?”
“Just for a moment,” he said. “Follow me.”
She looked at the men. “I’ll be right back.” she took her cell phone out of her pocket, opened a recording app, then put it back in her pocket.
The doctor opened the curtain. “Five minutes, judge.”
“Thank you,” she nodded and focused on the frail old man in the bed, three large bandages on his head and face. “You gonna live?”