“You’re crazy,” Lisa said, laughing. “Listen, let’s just forget this. We’re not hooking up. We’re both tired, and I’m in no mood to let mental exhaustion make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Exactly.” Ben tilted his head back. “Though I promise you no one has ever regretted it.”

“Lisa, wake up!” Ben said, shaking her awake.

“Wha?” she said as she sat up on the red sofa. “What time is it?”

“It’s seven-thirty. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about this defendant. What if Hollis denies the stay because we did a crappy job? That means we killed him.”

“We didn’t kill anyone. We did the best we could and we made a sound recommendation.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. We did what we thought-”

The phone rang.

Ben jumped for it. “Hello? Hi, Justice Hollis. Did you get the fax okay?” Ben fell silent and Lisa slapped his arm, trying to elicit a reaction. “No, we understand,” Ben said. “Yes, we know the process. Okay. I guess we’ll see you in a month or so. Have a good day.” Hanging up, Ben paused, looking at Lisa with a blank stare. “That’s five votes! We got stayed!” he screamed.

They embraced and jumped around the office, chanting, “We got stayed! We got stayed!”

“I can’t believe it!” Lisa said. “What else did he say?”

“He said he enjoyed our memo. He said the argument was persuasive, our analysis was sound. He said we used the word ‘moreover’ too much, but he thought we were right on point. He’s already called the governor’s office in Missouri. We just have to make all the preparations to hear the case.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“And y’know what the best part was? Hollis actually said, and I quote, ‘These trial courts are a fuckin’ pain in the keister.’”

“Hollis said ‘fuckin’?”

“Right to me,” Ben said with a wide smile. “This is a great fuckin’ day.”

Chapter 3

STANDING IN FRONT OF ARMAND’S PIZZERIA, BEN enjoyed the cool late October breeze. As summer officially ended, so did Washington’s unbearable humidity. Without his jacket, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Ben relished the quiet that blanketed the area. Already forgetting the green of summer, he stared at the brown and orange hue that decorated the trees along Massachusetts Avenue. Relaxed, he waited for his lunch companion. After a few minutes, he felt a tap on the shoulder. “Ben?”

“Rick?” Ben asked, recognizing the voice of Justice Hollis’s former clerk. Rick wore an olive-green suit and a paisley tie. His most noticeable features were his eyes, puffy and slightly bloodshot. With thin, blond hair that was combed to perfection, Rick was tall and rangy and older-looking than Ben had anticipated. “It’s nice to finally have a face to put with your voice,” Ben said as they shook hands. “After all the advice you’ve given me in the last two months, I figured it was time to find out what you look like.”

“Same here,” Rick said as they walked into the restaurant. “So how has Hollis been treating you?”

“He’s fine,” Ben said as they sat down at a table in the corner. “It’s been about a month and a half since he got back from Norway, so I think I’m finally used to his idiosyncrasies.”

“He can be extremely odd, don’t you think? I never understood why he would write only with pencils. Do you think he’s allergic to pens?”

“I think that’s just part of his personality,” Ben said. “In his mind, nothing is written in stone; it’s all changeable. I just wish he wouldn’t eat the erasers from his pencils.”

“He still does that?” Rick laughed. “That used to make me sick.”

“It’s one thing to eat a clean eraser. I’m all for clean erasers. But he gnaws on the dirty ones. One time I saw him erase half a sheet of paper. There was rubber fallout all across the paper and the eraser itself was pitch-black. He put that sucker right in his mouth and started chewing. It came out with nothing but metal showing. His teeth were all black, it was nasty.”

“Ah, yes, I do miss those days,” Rick said, looking down at the menu.

“Don’t even bother with the menu,” Ben said. “There’s only one thing to get here.” Ben pointed to the unlimited pizza bar that was Armand’s specialty. “All the pizza you can eat for only four ninety-nine. It’s just about the greatest thing in the city as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe you never heard about this place.”

“I clearly missed out,” Rick said, surveying the various pizzas.

After giving the waiter their order, Ben and Rick walked up to the pizza bar and grabbed three slices each. When they returned to the table, Ben said, “Meanwhile, thanks again for the advice on the Scott case. I didn’t realize Hollis was so adamant about ruling for defendants on those.”

“Our fair justice has never seen a Sixth Amendment case he didn’t like,” Rick said. “By the way, how did that death penalty case turn out?”

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you that,” Ben said, forcing a slight laugh. “We signed an ethics code-everything’s confidential.”

“I signed the same agreement,” Rick said, folding up a slice of pizza covered with onion and garlic. “And I’m still bound by it. Believe me, I know what it’s like to sit in those chambers. The responsibility never ends.”

Ben looked over his shoulder, then leaned over to Rick. “We’re working on the dissent. The justices voted five to four to fry him. It was a heartbreaker.”

“Hey, don’t let it get you down,” Rick said. “You guys did a great job in setting up that case. You can’t-”

“I know, I can’t win them all,” Ben said. “I just wish we could’ve saved that guy. He got screwed by the trial court.”

“He’s not the first, and he’s certainly not the last,” Rick said. “So what else are you working on? What’s happening with the CMI merger? Doesn’t that come down next week?”

“Actually, it probably won’t come down for another few weeks. Blake and Osterman asked for more time to write their opinions. You know how it is-merger cases always wind up confusing everyone. It takes forever to sort through all the regulatory nonsense.”

“So who wins?”

“It was actually pretty amazing,” Ben said, once again checking over his shoulder. “When the justices were voting in Conference, it was five to four against CMI. At the last minute, Osterman took Dreiberg out of Conference and into his chambers. According to Osterman’s clerks, Osterman then convinced her that the regulations ran in favor of CMI, making the merger with Lexcoll completely legal under the Sherman Antitrust Act. Charles Maxwell is going to skip to work when this decision comes down. Rumor says he’s spent well over five million just on legal expenses to get the case up to the Court.”

“Any idea what made Dreiberg switch?”

“None. You know how Osterman is. He probably leaned on Dreiberg intellectually and Dreiberg gave in. It’s hard for the newest justice to stand up to the chief justice.”

“Especially when she’s a woman,” Rick said.

Surprised by Rick’s comment, Ben said, “I wouldn’t say that. Even if Dreiberg were a man, she’d have a hard time facing Osterman head-on.”

“I guess,” Rick said.

“What time is she coming over?” Nathan asked, polishing his shoes on the living-room coffee table.

“She should be here any minute.” As Ben was working on his own shoes, he noted Nathan’s meticulous rubbing and buffing. “How about I just pay you to do mine?”

“This is a passing of tradition, boy,” Nathan said. “From father to son. From son to friend. Polishing shoes is a part of life.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ben said, rubbing the black polish into the loafer. “I feel like my grandfather. I mean, only old people shine their own shoes. I’m probably aging as we speak.”

“Age has nothing to do with it,” Nathan said. “I’ve been self-polishing since I was twelve.”