the federal judges in this state. “I’m tired of putting people on the bench who I owe. It would be nice, for a change, to make someone a judge because they’re the best qualified.”
I smile at him, like I appreciate the vote of confidence but the answer is still no.
“Not your style,” he says.
“I’d have to be fair, Governor.”
He likes that one, pats my shoulder so hard I actually lose my balance. “Yes, that would be an occupational hazard. You’d have to be fair.” He laughs and takes my hand. “Thanks for coming, Paul. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Nice to see you, Governor,” I say, as he’s already calling out, in a hearty voice, to the next adoring group.
I grab another martini from the bar and have to stop myself from draining it. I say hello to a lawyer whom I should recognize but don’t. He starts talking about some class action and I finally place him, just as I see her.
So she’s here after all.
Standing in a circle of two men and a woman. The woman runs a consulting firm. The two men are lawyers, ogling Shelly as she talks to them. It’s not really her thing, this schmoozing. I’ve never seen her in a black satin gown, the V neckline highlighting her long neck and tight shoulders.
I take a deep breath, like a razor cutting through my chest.
She’s hitting them up for money for her legal clinic. Perfect place to do it, especially when she’s the daughter of the guest of honor. She makes a joke and puts a hand on one of the men’s arm, and it’s like a fist to my throat. She turns her head and her eyes catch mine, and suddenly I realize that I’m standing still, alone, simply staring at her.
I raise a glass to her and do something with my mouth that I hope resembles a smile. She squints at me, her face working itself into a pleasant expression, as she maintains the conversation with her company. She has the poise to control her reaction but I know what she’s thinking. I’m the fly in the soup.
Not the right time in my life, she’d said. Like it was nothing personal. Like she was all booked up.
I turn back to the bartender, feeling mean and angry. I order another drink, even as I feel the weight on my tongue. I better pace myself.
“Hi, Paul.”
I turn around and there she is. I stifle the instinct to reach for her. It feels so natural to do so. It was easier when she was twenty yards away.
“Working the crowd?” I say.
“Like everyone else.” She has a glass of orange juice, which I assume is not spiked with anything interesting. Shelly is a workout freak, a kickboxer, marathon runner, self-defense instructor. She’s almost a foot shorter than me but she could flatten me in two seconds.
She looks different with the makeup, hairdo, pearls, and gown, and I find myself offended. She’s not allowed to change.
“So how’ve you been?” she asks me.
I start for the easy line— Never better, something like that—but there’s always been something about Shelly that brings out raw sentiment. Plus, I’ve had too much liquor to be diplomatic.
She nods, like she understands my dilemma. “I see you’re representing Senator Almundo in the Public Trust indictments.”
“Yeah, and how ‘bout this weather?” I put my drink down by the bar. Small talk. She might as well be sticking pins into a voodoo doll of me.
She appraises me, and I don’t like what she’s seeing. I can’t decide what reaction I want from her. I don’t want this. Not pity. I want to shake her up, watch her struggle.
But that’s not Shelly. One of the sweetest, most generous people I know, devotes herself to helping children in legal jams, but she spent most of her life nursing wounds and became an expert in façades. No show, no tell.
“You’re making this awkward,” she informs me.
“You’re right. I wish I could say it’s great to see you.” I step closer to her. “I don’t want to talk to you like this. If you want to really talk to me—any time. You have my
I smile at him, like I appreciate the vote of confidence but the answer is still no.
“Not your style,” he says.
“I’d have to be fair, Governor.”
He likes that one, pats my shoulder so hard I actually lose my balance. “Yes, that would be an occupational hazard. You’d have to be fair.” He laughs and takes my hand. “Thanks for coming, Paul. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Nice to see you, Governor,” I say, as he’s already calling out, in a hearty voice, to the next adoring group.
I grab another martini from the bar and have to stop myself from draining it. I say hello to a lawyer whom I should recognize but don’t. He starts talking about some class action and I finally place him, just as I see her.
So she’s here after all.
Standing in a circle of two men and a woman. The woman runs a consulting firm. The two men are lawyers, ogling Shelly as she talks to them. It’s not really her thing, this schmoozing. I’ve never seen her in a black satin gown, the V neckline highlighting her long neck and tight shoulders.
I take a deep breath, like a razor cutting through my chest.
She’s hitting them up for money for her legal clinic. Perfect place to do it, especially when she’s the daughter of the guest of honor. She makes a joke and puts a hand on one of the men’s arm, and it’s like a fist to my throat. She turns her head and her eyes catch mine, and suddenly I realize that I’m standing still, alone, simply staring at her.
I raise a glass to her and do something with my mouth that I hope resembles a smile. She squints at me, her face working itself into a pleasant expression, as she maintains the conversation with her company. She has the poise to control her reaction but I know what she’s thinking. I’m the fly in the soup.
Not the right time in my life, she’d said. Like it was nothing personal. Like she was all booked up.
I turn back to the bartender, feeling mean and angry. I order another drink, even as I feel the weight on my tongue. I better pace myself.
“Hi, Paul.”
I turn around and there she is. I stifle the instinct to reach for her. It feels so natural to do so. It was easier when she was twenty yards away.
“Working the crowd?” I say.
“Like everyone else.” She has a glass of orange juice, which I assume is not spiked with anything interesting. Shelly is a workout freak, a kickboxer, marathon runner, self-defense instructor. She’s almost a foot shorter than me but she could flatten me in two seconds.
She looks different with the makeup, hairdo, pearls, and gown, and I find myself offended. She’s not allowed to change.
“So how’ve you been?” she asks me.
I start for the easy line— Never better, something like that—but there’s always been something about Shelly that brings out raw sentiment. Plus, I’ve had too much liquor to be diplomatic.
She nods, like she understands my dilemma. “I see you’re representing Senator Almundo in the Public Trust indictments.”
“Yeah, and how ‘bout this weather?” I put my drink down by the bar. Small talk. She might as well be sticking pins into a voodoo doll of me.
She appraises me, and I don’t like what she’s seeing. I can’t decide what reaction I want from her. I don’t want this. Not pity. I want to shake her up, watch her struggle.
But that’s not Shelly. One of the sweetest, most generous people I know, devotes herself to helping children in legal jams, but she spent most of her life nursing wounds and became an expert in façades. No show, no tell.
“You’re making this awkward,” she informs me.
“You’re right. I wish I could say it’s great to see you.” I step closer to her. “I don’t want to talk to you like this. If you want to really talk to me—any time. You have my
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