RoamWild by Valerie Herme´ Page A

the subject.”
    Angie White comes to the podium. I’ve dug enough of a hole to make her think she’d better try to fill it. She’s a tall woman who looks taller in her black suit and heels. From the podium, her height puts her level with the judge and lets her look down at the officer in the witness stand.
    She asks, “Officer, were you taught how to approach someone suspected of soliciting?”
    He says, “We ain’t supposed to bring it up.”
    She asks, “Bring what up?”
    He says, “Money.”
    But he doesn’t sound convincing. He’s staring at me. I’m holding my shoulders back and letting my tight dress do its work.
    The judge says, “Put them away, Ms. Deloit.”
    I relax my shoulders. The officer looks embarrassed. Angie White rolls her eyes, picks up her file, and leaves the podium.
    I come to my feet and say, “Your honor, the witness’s demeanor in the courtroom indicates the manner in which he approached my client at midnight on Hollywood Boulevard. Clearly he was soliciting sex for pay. She could’ve been a young homeless woman who hadn’t eaten too well and was wondering where she’d find a safe place to sleep. Then the officer presents her with an offer for a few dollars to do what she’d never have done otherwise.”
    The witness says, “Hey, I didn’t—”
    The judge says, “Nobody asked you a question, officer.”
    I don’t look toward my client. I hope she’s not straining too hard to appear innocent. She was arrested wearing stiletto heels, torn net hose, a skirt hardly long enough to cover her twat, and a tank top that graphically outlined her nipples. It was her fourth bust for working the streets, but her record isn’t admissible at this stage of the trial and none of the earlier cases went through Judge McGrath’s courtroom.
    The judge says, “Ms. White, the defense is raising a doubt.”
    Angie White closes her file folder, stands, glares at the witness, and says, “Move to dismiss, your honor.”
    The officer raises his hands in a what-the-hell-happened gesture. The judge gives him a harder glare. He leaves the witness stand and the courtroom, not quite running.
    The judge says, “Counsel, approach.” Angie White and I stand in front of the judge’s bench. The top of my head is level with her shoulder. She’s having trouble keeping her hands at her sides. She wants to touch the judge’s face.
    I have to look at my feet to keep from smiling. The sex radar I’ve developed in my night job tells me Angie is hot for the judge.
    Judge McGrath says, “Ms. White, the court appreciates your discretion in dropping the case before the officer further damaged his credibility.”
    Angie says, “Thank you your honor.”
    If her undertone is so obvious to me, can the judge be missing it?
    Without looking at me, the judge says, “Ms. Deloit, next time you come into my court, wear a blazer.”
    I say, “Yes, your honor.” No problem. I can poke my tits out of a blazer just fine.

Chapter Two Angie
    In the hallway my client says, “Hey, thanks.” She saunters away. The torn left cheek of her jeans shows off the rose tattoo on her ass. When I saw she’d shown up for court dressed this way, I guided her to a chair before the judge came in.
    Angie White shakes my hand. “Nice job.”
    We walk toward the gray light pooling through the dingy windows above the street entrance. Angie says, “I’ll be sure the officer understands he lost the case by staring at your boobs.”
    I say, “He lost by being a jerk.”
    She looks me over and says, “If I owned a pair like yours, I’d use them too.”
    “They’ve been a good investment.”
    “You mean?”
    I say, “I can give you the name of the surgeon.”
    She laughs and says, “Hang all that on my chest, and I’d fall over.”
    I say, “I think maybe the judge felt sympathy for the working girl.”
    Angie’s face gives her thoughts away. She wouldn’t mind getting her hands on me in bed, but her real desires are elsewhere. I