First Street
Chapter 2
The First Day of School
Randy Susan Meyers
“I think it’s right that Emily get the apartment,” the Senator pronounced, slamming down his tumbler of whiskey.
Jack’s hands became fists under the table. His father was taking any side but his. What else was new?
“And why’s that, exactly?” Jack managed to get out.
“Calm down, dear,” his mother said. “Your father just means that you have a home with us. Emily doesn’t have family in D.C.”
Jack tipped his beer to his lips. He sensed his mother fighting the urge to chastise him for drinking from the bottle instead of a glass. Instead, she straightened the tablecloth and used the crumb catcher to brush up flakes of pie crust.
“I had a home. She’s in it. I’m back in a twin bed with a football comforter—”
“Perhaps we can keep Emily away from the dinner table,” his mother suggested.
“Expecting sympathy over being kicked out of my apartment is too much to ask?”
The Senator stabbed at his pie with his fork. “Emily had her reasons, I’m sure.”
“You’re defending her?”
“Your father just meant that every story has two sides.”
“I can’t believe the two of you.” Really, though, Jack wasn’t surprised. He’d never had a great relationship with his father, but it had taken a nosedive last November when he’d turned down the clerkship with the Chief Justice to work with Justice Russo, who his father thought was one step away from being a communist.
His mother began clearing the dishes.
“Let Martha get those,” his father said.
“I don’t mind.”
His father rattled his coffee cup. “Fine. Then ask her to bring me more coffee.”
“What did Emily tell you, Dad?”
“Why would Emily confide in the Senator, for goodness’ sake?” his mother said.
“Because that’s how she operates.” Matching his father drink for drink had been stupid. Now the booze owned him. “She’ll do whatever she can to get Dad to feel sorry for her. And the Senator will fall for it. The damsel in fucking distress.” Jack got up from the table, tossing the cloth napkin from his lap onto his plate.
His father rose to meet him, his six-foot-two frame dwarfing Jack’s five-foot-ten.
“You will not swear in this house.”
“Oh, for Christ sakes,” Jack said, exasperated.
“Do not raise your voice at me.” His father bent back a finger, warming up to tick off a list. “You will show respect to both of us at all times. And you will show Emily the respect she deserves as my staff—”
Jack stomped away from the table and up the grand staircase. His angry steps were muffled by thick Oriental carpets. In his room, the walls were still covered with memorabilia from his glory days playing high school basketball. He grabbed a spongy ball and slammed it through the hoop over his garbage pail.
Fuck this. He wasn’t staying here one second longer.
He threw enough clothes for the night in a duffel bag. He’d come back for the rest of his clothes tomorrow when his parents were at church.
Jack pounded down the stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder. He walked into the living room where his parents sat, stone-faced, staring at Fox News.
“I’m leaving.”
His father crossed his arms over his sizeable chest but said nothing.
“I won’t be coming home.”
“Where will you sleep?” his mother asked.
“Stop fretting, Elizabeth. He’s a grown man. He’ll be back. Our Jack likes his comforts.”
Jack silently apologized to his mother and then slammed the door hard enough to shake the stained glass as he left the house. Heat blasted him as he threw himself into his Volvo. He pulled away from the curb before he figured out where he was headed, his rage propelling him.
Jack drove aimlessly around the exclusive streets of McLean, his mind full of drink and self-pitying thoughts of Emily’s cold breakup. He shouldn’t be driving at all, he knew. It was dangerous and stupid. But dangerous and stupid was how he felt right now. If there were consequences, he’d accept them.
His thoughts were unfocused. Before Emily had dropped her bombshell a week ago, he’d been enjoying revisiting the lower court decisions of the cases Justice Russo might be involved in: a dispute about drilling rights in Wyoming; a debate over concealed carry permit laws in Ohio; and Texas’ attempt to block non-vaccinated children from attending school. But now, he couldn’t get past the first sentence of an opinion.
It had been that way since Emily had told him it was over and suggested he leave.
The scene played over and over in his head like a film he couldn’t turn off.
“What did you say?” he’d asked from the couch where he was watching Sports Night. She’d come home late from the office, his father’s office, and then had announced that he should move out as if it was something they’d discussed before.
“I want you to move out,” she repeated flatly.
“Wait, what? Why?”
“This isn’t working.”
“It isn’t?”
He stood and walked toward her. He tried to touch her arm, but she drew back.
“What’s going on?” he asked desperately. “Do you think I did something? Because I swear, I didn’t.”
Emily shook her head. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She looked as if she was holding back tears.
“Then what?”
“I can’t say.”
“Just tell me. Please.”
She brushed her hand across her eyes. “Leave it, Jack. Okay?”
“No! You can’t just ask me to leave without giving me some reason that makes sense.”
Anger blushed her cheeks. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I don’t love you anymore.”
Did she say “maybe” to soften the blow, or was there still hope?
Did it matter?
#
Emily look-alikes packed the First Street Bar. Jack had ended up there on autopilot. Maybe it was the last time he’d felt happy, that night in November when he’d gotten the clerkship with Russo because he convinced her to take a chance on him and not because the Senator had pulled some strings. Emily had been the one to encourage him to go after what he wanted, telling him he was good enough to get it on his own. Despite everything, he missed her.
He took a seat at the bar and scanned the other patrons. He could smell their neediness and ambition. He should’ve hit a dive. This bar took too much effort, even when drunk.
He took out his phone and sent a text to Emily.
So I’m officially homeless.
It whooshed away with a satisfying sound. Maybe that would get her attention.
He drank his first beer quickly when it came, then hunched over his second, sad to see the bottom of the bottle getting closer, knowing he shouldn’t have another, but certain he would. Particularly if Emily didn’t answer his text. She’d read it. The balloon of a potential reply flickered across his screen, but no answer came.
Maybe he should write her again, suggest he come over? No. That was a terrible idea. He should find somewhere to sleep because he couldn’t drive home.
The woman perched on the stool to his right made a futile gesture to the bartender.
“Let me. Over here, please,” he called out. Ugh. He sounded like his father.
The bartender came over. “What will you have?” Jack asked.
“I could have done this myself,” she said.
“The place is packed.” The bartender bounced on his heels. “Can I get your order?”
“Prosecco.”
“Plus another one of these for me.” Jack held out his bottle of Rivershed Ale as he slurred his words. “And a shot of bourbon.”
“You probably don’t need that,” the woman said when the bartender walked away. She had dark brown air and wore thick tortoiseshell glasses. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Do we know each other?”
“I’m Dana. I’ve seen you around town.”
The bartender brought their drinks. Jack placed two twenties on the bar. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks,” Dana said. “This isn’t your usual neck of the woods.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s my job,” Dana said matter-of-factly.
“Huh?”
“I’m a reporter. Under Their Robes.”
Jack felt queasy, and it wasn’t from the booze. “No comment.”
“Ah, come on, Jack?”
Jack shook his head emphatically. “Not a chance.”
Dana grinned like a cat. “A girl has to try.”
Jack turned and rested his arms on the bar. After a moment, she got the hint and left. Fucking reporters. His friends had been sending him links to gossip stories about him and Emily all week.
A guy slipped onto the empty stool next to him and picked up one of Jack’s empties. “You like Port City beers?”
“You don’t?”
“I find them pretentious.”
“And you are?”
The man frowned. “We had drinks after the interviews. Right over there.” He pointed to a table near the door.
“Right, right. Wait, are you clerking or not? I can’t remember.”
He held out his chest proudly. “I wasn’t then, but now I’m with the Chief.”
“Congratulations, buddy! You got my spot.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jack.”
“I know.”
“Right, sorry. Not getting your name, though …”
“It’s Gabriel Martinez.”
“Gabriel. Right. Fantastic. Martinez …” Jack searched his memory. “Oh, you sent an email a while back looking for roommates.”
“Yes, but—”
“You still have a room available?”
“One.”
Jack felt relief. “You know what, man? To be honest, I’m desperate for place to crash tonight. Whaddya say?”
#
On Monday morning, Odessa walked from Gabriel’s house to the broad white steps of One First Street with Charlotte. Heat shimmered even though it was only 8:45 in the morning.
The stone looked cool and inviting, but climbing the steps was going to be a chore. The D.C. humidity was as awful for her joints as the Cambridge cold had been. Her twin brother, Jackson, who considered himself an expert from the moment he started med school, was always suggesting she move to a drier climate. “You should be working in Phoenix,” he’d said last night on the phone.
“Last time I checked the Supreme Court didn’t sit in Arizona.”
He’d laughed and wished her luck. Sometimes she wished he’d followed her into law, or that she’d had an interest in medicine. They used to do everything together, and she’d gotten used to the companionship. Maybe that was why she’d stayed with David for so long. He was easy to be with most of the time. Predictable. Their breakup in November had stuck, though they’d had to continue to share an apartment through the rest of their clerkships with their feeder judges, which had been beyond awkward.
“Side entrance, Ms. Jones,” the stern security guard standing on the stairs said.
“How did you know my name?” Odessa asked.
Charlotte leaned in close. “They know all the clerks from the first day.”
Odessa looked confused. “The entrance is on—”
“—Maryland Avenue, right?” Charlotte said.
Odessa glared at Charlotte.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Odessa hissed as they walked around the building.
“I assumed you had a reason for what you were doing.”
“Why did you think I knew better than you?”
“You seem like the type who always knows the right thing to do.”
Odessa tugged at her sheath dress and smoothed her hands over the burgundy leather briefcase her mother had given her to celebrate her getting the clerkship. She might not know what entrance to use yet, but at least she looked the part.
“You may be too honest for your own good,” Odessa said.
“So I’ve been told. I’m working on it.”
After going through security and getting name badges, Charlotte led her to the John Marshall statue where the clerks were supposed to meet the docent who would take them on a tour. Several other men and women in their late twenties were waiting there, looking nervous and overheated in their business clothes. Butterflies danced in Odessa’s stomach as they approached the mammoth bronze work of art.
“It’s huge,” Odessa said.
“‘Seventy-five inches by fifty-one inches by seventy-seven and one-half inches. Unveiled in 1884 and initially placed on the west plaza of the U.S. Capitol. Sculpted by William Wetmore Story, whose father served on the Supreme Court with Marshall,’” Charlotte recited quickly.
“Your memory’s amazing.”
“It’s a side effect of being neurodiverse.”
Odessa clamped her lips against blurting out the wrong thing. A week ago, they’d both moved into Gabriel’s house, which he’d inherited when his aunt died suddenly a few months ago. After Gabriel had gone through a long list of house rules, they’d retreated to Odessa’s room, where Charlotte had told her about her … condition. Odessa had never even heard the term “neurodiverse” before, but she was careful not to pry about labels. She’d been on the receiving end of enough awkward questions about terminology, such as “Do you prefer to be called black or African-American?” People meant well, but honestly. Why was it her responsibility to be a spokesperson for everyone who looked like her?
She looked around the atrium. Even this early, tourists roamed the halls. She didn’t remember much about the building from the time she and Jackson had toured it with their parents during their whirlwind tour of Washington when they were ten. The only thing that stood out back then was the collection of miniature bronzed wrinkled old men nestled in a niche in the wall. They terrified her.
“Did you touch the toes for luck yet?” Jack said, nudging her arm as he grinned at her. He’d crashed at the house on Saturday night. He and Gabriel had rolled in late reeking of booze. But today he looked perfect, wearing a Hermes tie and white shirt with his made-to-order Cucinelli. Odessa couldn’t believe anyone would pay $6,000 for a suit, no matter how rich they were.
“Touch what now?”
“Legend has it that touching the statue’s toes brings luck,” Charlotte said. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey, Charlemagne.”
Charlotte frowned but said nothing.
Gabriel pushed his way through the crowd of clerks to join them. “So, did you touch the toes?”
“What’s with the toes?” Odessa said.
“We’re just looking for some extra luck,” Gabriel said. “Though some of us walked in with the pre-made kind.” He punched Jack in the arm. Jack laughed, but Odessa could tell that the jab stung.
“No toes for me,” Odessa said. “Generations of microorganisms aside, I’m not sure John Marshall necessarily brings luck.”
“Why not?” Jack said.
“Think about M’Intosh,” Charlotte said.
“Oh, sure, of course.”
“It’s the case where the Court concluded that Native Americans didn’t have the right to sell their own property and had to let the government negotiate for them,” Odessa said. “Marshall wrote the opinion.”
“Have the two of you spent every night since getting the clerkship memorizing cases?” Jack asked.
“Haven’t you?” Charlotte asked.
“Guess I missed the memo,” Jack said.
“Were you too busy planning a wedding?” Gabriel teased.
Jack’s easygoing expression turned sour.
“Guess you missed the news about the breakup,” Odessa said gently. “Sorry, Jack.”
He made a dismissive gesture and rubbed the statue’s toes. “I’ll take all the luck I can get.”
“Attention!” A matronly woman in a print dress clapped her hands above her head. “I’m Judith and I’ll be giving you the tour. Please follow me. And remember, quiet in the halls.”
Jack walked ahead of the group, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“When did they break up?” Gabriel asked.
Charlotte tugged at her black blazer, which looked like every other blazer she owned. Odessa felt a sudden urge to take her shopping.
“A week ago,” Charlotte said. “Suddenly.”
“Did you read that on a what’s-Jack-Kerridge-doing fan site or something?”
Charlotte smiled. “No. People.com.”
“You read People.com? Seriously?”
“What, I’m only supposed to read Supreme Court decisions?”
Gabriel shook his head. “I wonder what happened?”
“I’m putting my money on cheating,” Odessa said.
#
As Jack listened to Judith, he tried to push thoughts of Emily away. She’d never returned his text and he’d turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend to avoid temptation. After crashing at Gabriel’s on Saturday night, he’d spent Sunday at his sister’s, but that wasn’t a long-term solution.
The last words she’d said to him that morning still stung. At some point, Jack, you’ve got to stop living your life as a reaction to Dad.
Had Emily ever cared about him? She was like two people to him now: the beautiful girl with the easy smile whom he’d met in the Yale cafeteria, and the icy woman who’d sent him packing. Which one was real? Maybe both were inventions.
Odessa walked up to him as the group snaked through a door leading to a spiral staircase. She gave him a friendly smile, but he knew pity when he saw it.
“Among the most notable architectural features,” Judith said, “are two self-supporting, elliptical marble staircases. Each has 136 steps, completing seven spirals while rising five stories from the basement to the third floor. The staircases are cantilevered in design, eliminating the need for a central support …”
Judith took off her glasses and tilted her head. “No need to take notes, Hanna,” she said, nodding in the direction of a clerk Jack didn’t know. “There won’t be a quiz at the end of the tour.” Hanna put her notebook away hastily, her face as red as the Canadian flag on its cover. “Now, as we climb to the top, remember, there’s a tremendous echo, so no talking on the stairs, please.”
“This is like being inside an enormous wedding cake,” Odessa said, looking up at the white stairs spiraling upward, accented by a gold handrail.
“Again with the wedding talk?” Jack said.
“Shhh,” Gabriel whispered. “No talking on the stairs …”
Judith shot them a frosty look. “Save your breath for the climb.”
Odessa mouthed “Sorry” to Jack, then turned and walked slowly up the stairs.
When they reached the top, Judith used her key pass and led them into a large open room. “Here it is, folks, the highest court in the land.”
They were standing on a non-regulation-sized basketball court. The Supreme Court’s seal was inlaid at the center, the eagle’s wings spread across the wood.
“Everyone from the justices to the court police play here,” Judith said. “There’s also a weight room, a workout room, lockers, and showers. We’re directly above the hearing room, so it’s strictly off limits when the Court is in session.”
Jack picked up a basketball from the rack and squeezed it between his hands. He could use a game, the physicality of it, the level of concentration it required, shutting everything else out.
“Don’t hang on so tight,” Odessa said.
“What?”
“You’re going to break that ball.”
Jack loosened his hands and let it drop to the floor. It bounced once, the hollow sound echoing through the high-ceilinged room.
#
By the end of the tour, Gabriel was disoriented. He could use Charlotte’s cataloging mind. She could probably tell him the color of the rug in the justices’ dining room and draw an exact floor plan. But to Gabriel, the ornate decoration in the private areas—the conference rooms, reception areas, the spaces that resembled small ballrooms—merged into a swirl of ruby, gilt, and ivory.
When the tour ended, Judith handed them off to the existing clerks. The new clerks arrived for their yearlong clerkships in waves; he and Odessa were starting now, and two others in August. In the meantime, Andrew Rodriguez was still there to run the office while the justices were on vacation.
Andrew had given Gabriel and Odessa a quick tour of the Chief’s chambers, which ended in a smaller conference room off the Chief’s office.
“So, good tour?” Andrew asked, sitting on the edge of a heavy antique wooden credenza. “Judith give you the lay of the land?”
“It was a lot to take in,” Odessa said. “I’d have trouble finding the exit right now.”
“In case of emergency, follow the lighted signs,” Andrew said, smiling at her. “You’ll get the hang of it. We haven’t lost a clerk yet. Well, there was that one guy … But they found him eventually.”
Odessa laughed. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“Okay, so, the purpose of the next couple of weeks is for me to bring you up to speed so you can take over when I leave here.”
“Sad to be going?” Gabriel asked.
“I’ve got a good gig lined up, but yeah, this year has been amazing … the Chief’s a great guy. You’re lucky to be here.”
Andrew gave Gabriel a look. He must know that Gabriel was the Chief’s second choice. Did everyone else in the office know, too? They’d never discussed it, but Odessa and Charlotte must’ve figured it out. He should’ve kept his mouth shut at the bar that night.
Andrew clapped his hands together. “So, let’s start with the most important information.” He picked up a leather-bound book. It was the tenth edition of the Supreme Court Practice. “This is your bible and there is no other God this year than this. Each of you will get one. Put your name in it and keep it close. If you lose it, you’re on the hook for a replacement copy, which is five hundred dollars you’d rather spend elsewhere, trust me.”
“Noted,” Odessa said.
“You’ll also receive this.” Andrew brandished a thin spiral-bound book labeled “Chief Thomas Maxwell’s Rules of Chamber.” “You should have it memorized by next week if possible. You’re going to be spending most of your time going through cert petitions until the justices get back in September. You’ve heard of the slush pile in publishing? Well, this is sort of like that. The Chief participates in the cert pool along with six other justices. Each of the chambers divides up the cert petitions and then we all share our memos with the group. The court gets seven to eight thousand petitions a term.”
“So, a thousand per chamber?” Gabriel asked.
“Yep. It’s a slog. Be grateful Maximus participates in the cert pool. Rourke and Cooper don’t.”
Odessa and Gabriel both smiled at the Chief’s nickname.
“So Rourke and Cooper’s clerks have to read all 8,000 petitions?” Odessa asked.
“You got it. Anyway, a lot of them are easy to put aside because, frankly, they’re filed by crazy people. The hardest ones are the self-reps, usually death row or life sentence guys who don’t have a lawyer anymore. Regardless, each petition gets a read, and then a memo gets written with a recommendation. If four justices agree that it’s worth taking on, then cert is granted.”
Odessa and Gabriel shared a glance. Gabriel’s plans to continue renovating Aunt Rosa’s house on the weekends floated out the window into the steamy day.
“It sounds like a lot, I know,” Andrew said, “but you’ll get the hang of it. The more stressful cases are the stay applications.”
“Like Jimenez,” Odessa said.
“Yeah, death cases are the worst. But all stay applications are stressful. We’ve got one going on right now.”
“What’s the case?” Odessa leaned forward eagerly. Andrew’s glance lingered on her longer than appropriate.
“It’s about that law in Texas that says children have to be vaccinated to go to school. It’s being challenged by a bunch of parents who send their kids to a Christian Science school. Almost half the kids there are unvaccinated, if you can believe it.”
“That sounds like a lot,” Odessa said.
“Religious nuts,” Andrew said. “I think they’re against blood transfusions, too.”
“That’s Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Gabriel said, bristling. “And being religious doesn’t make you nuts.”
“Whatever,” Andrew said. “You know what I mean. Anyway, the State lost in the lower courts, and it’s petitioning us for a stay before the school year starts so unvaccinated kids don’t end up in school, especially given the measles outbreak going on. We need to get five yesses to issue the stay, and the justices are all on vacation so it’s a bit of a clusterfuck.”
“How so?” Odessa asked.
“I’ve got to coordinate the votes, for one,” Andrew said. “I mean, the Chief does, but …”
“We get it,” Gabriel said. “How do you think the Chief’s coming down on this?”
Andrew lowered his voice. “Between us, I think he’s on the fence. My guess is, if four justices vote for a stay, he’ll toss in a vote to grant it pending the hearing on the merits.”
“But what does the Chief think about the law?” Gabriel pressed. “You must have a good sense by now.”
Andrew folded his arms across his chest. “It’s a tough one. There are so many factors at play: religious freedom and parental choice versus the public health issue. It’s not a case that’s obviously going to split along ideological lines.”
“Can we help?” Odessa asked.
Andrew smiled in a way that Gabriel found condescending. “I’ve got this one, thanks. Why don’t we grab some lunch and I can fill you in on some other details?”
They followed Andrew to the cafeteria. Gabriel and Odessa chose ready-made chicken salad sandwiches, while Andrew went for the meatball sub. Neither looked that appetizing. They got in line for the cashier behind a couple of tourists clutching pamphlets.
“How’s the food here in general?” Odessa asked, inspecting her sandwich through the cellophane.
“Pretty awful. Have you read the Yelp reviews?”
“There are Yelp reviews for cafeterias?”
“Yep. I heard it drives Cooper nuts.”
“Why?”
“He’s the newest justice so he gets caf duty. Apparently, he’s in some weird competition with the guy in charge of the Air and Space caf. Whatever.”
Odessa fumbled in her pocket to pay the cashier.
“Add hers to mine,” Andrew said to the unimpressed woman in uniform, pushing his tray forward.
“Thanks,” Odessa said.
Andrew winked at her. Gabriel rolled his eyes and paid for his own sandwich.
They followed Andrew to the clerks’ dining room, a private area adjacent to the cafeteria. Andrew’s phone dinged as they sat down. He checked it quickly and frowned.
“Rourke’s out,” Andrew said.
“From the stay?” Gabriel asked.
Andrew nodded. “Yep. No surprise there. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe in free elementary or high school.”
“He’s a strict textualist,” Gabriel said. “At least he’s consistent.”
Andrew leaned forward. “He’s also an asshole. Look, I agree with him some of the time, but insisting that irresponsible parents can send their kids to school regardless of the public health consequences is going too far in my view.”
“You don’t think there’s a religious freedom angle that’s worth pursuing?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t think getting your medical information from celebrities constitutes religious freedom. If they don’t want to vaccinate their kids, they should homeschool them.”
Gabriel bit back a retort. He didn’t want to get on Andrew’s bad side on his first day.
“Is Rourke the first vote?” Gabriel asked instead.
“Nope, Cooper voted against, too. Still waiting on the other seven.”
Odessa took a bite of her sandwich, then put it down. “Those Yelp reviews were right.”
“Told ya.”
Andrew’s phone dinged again. He read the message, then placed his phone down on the table.
“Another vote?” Gabriel asked.
“Another stay, unfortunately. As if this day wasn’t already a shit show.”
“What’s this one about?” Gabriel asked.
“Frozen embryos, looks like.”
“Oh,” Odessa said. “The Flaherty case?”
“That’s right.”
“Can someone fill me in?” Gabriel asked. How was he already this far behind on the first day?
“A couple in Louisiana was doing fertility treatments and they had some extra embryos that they froze for a second attempt,” Odessa said. “When the wife was six months pregnant, they were in a car crash. Husband died, she lost the baby. She doesn’t want to house the embryos anymore, so they’re going to be destroyed or donated to medical science, but her husband’s parents want them.”
“Want them for what?” Gabriel asked.
“To implant in a surrogate,” Odessa said, “so they can raise the kid themselves.”
“The Louisiana Supreme Court rendered judgment yesterday,” Andrew said.
“Maintaining the mother’s right to decide, yes?” Odessa said.
“Looks like it,” Andrew confirmed. “The grandparents are petitioning the Court to take up the case and issue a stay to keep her from destroying the embryos in the meantime.”
“They’re not grandparents,” Odessa said.
“Not yet,” Andrew said. “Eat up, kids. We’ve got work to do.”
#
In another part of the building, Charlotte and Jack sat in Justice Russo’s chambers listening to Benjamin Robeck describe what would be expected of them over the coming months.
They’d spent the last two hours going through the binders Benjamin had prepared for them. They were stuffed full of examples of the memos they’d be writing, as well as Justice Russo’s particular rules for her chamber.
“We’ll have time to go over more of this tomorrow,” Benjamin said. “I’ve got to talk to the Boss about this vaccination case.”
“Is a stay going to be issued?” Jack asked.
Benjamin checked his phone. “Thompson and Gold have voted for the stay. So, we’re two-two right now.”
“Harris will vote for it, I’m sure,” Charlotte said. “To be consistent with her judgments in McKenzie and Delay.”
“Agreed,” Benjamin said.
Charlotte considered for a moment. “So that leaves Mitchell, Ring, Russo, and the Chief.”
“Pretty much.” Benjamin nodded.
“Where is she leaning?” Jack asked.
“The Boss takes any case that affects children seriously.”
“They upset her?” Charlotte asked.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Benjamin said carefully. “Showing anger isn’t her style, but any case which touches children is extra-important to her.”
“Even though she doesn’t have kids.”
“Not sure what that has to do with anything,” Jack said. “You can care about kids even if you don’t have them.”
Charlotte looked at him impassively. “I was simply stating a fact. It’s clear to me that Justice Russo will vote for the stay.”
“I hope you’re right,” Benjamin said. “She can surprise you sometimes. Especially lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing … Anyway, watching out for the Boss also comes with the job.”
“What should we be watching out for?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t think he meant it literally, Char.”
Charlotte gritted her teeth. Her name was Charlotte. Was that so hard to say? Guys like Jack were all the same; quick with the nickname, happy to poke fun, and then so desperate when they sidled up for help at the end of the term.
She and Benjamin exchanged a look. She nodded to him slightly. She understood. He could rely on her.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Benjamin said.
A man entered. “You got a sec?”
“What’s up, Andrew?” Benjamin asked.
“Seven votes are in,” Andrew answered. “It’s four to three against right now.”
“Who’s missing besides Russo?”
“The Chief.”
Benjamin cocked his head to the side. “He going to wait and see?”
“I’d bet on it.”
Benjamin sighed. “Okay, I’ll wrap up here and get on with her. Should I push?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Charlotte watched the back-and-forth like a tennis match.
“Will do,” Benjamin said.
Andrew closed the door behind him.
“Who was that?” Jack asked.
“Andrew Rodriguez. One of the Chief’s clerks. He’s running today’s stay application.”
“People who don’t vaccinate their kids are crazy,” Jack said.
Benjamin stood up. “And that’s just what I’ll tell the Boss.”
Jack laughed, unstung. “What do you need from us?”
“I’ve got it, thanks,” Benjamin said dismissively. “I’ve got some calls to make. Why don’t you guys head out early today, and we’ll pick this up tomorrow at nine.”
Jack leaped up, grabbing his books and papers. “Sure thing, man. Good luck.”
Benjamin nodded at him, then smiled at Charlotte. “I’ll forward you the memos if you want to read them.”
Charlotte smiled. “I do, thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
Benjamin walked out of the room.
“How come he didn’t think I’d want to read the memos?” Jack said.
“I can’t think of one reason.”
“Ha. You have a sense of humor. Good.” He ran his hands through his hair. “That guy doesn’t like me.”
“Why would he have any opinion about you?” Charlotte asked, puzzled. “He just met you today.”
“Right? Anyway, it’s fine. I’m ready for beer. How about you?”
“I don’t drink.”
“A soda water, then?” Jack pressed.
“I am hungry.”
“Great, perfect. Let’s hit First Street.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure what she and Jack would talk about alone. “We should invite Gabriel and Odessa.”
“Sure, sure, whatever you want.”
They left Russo’s office and walked across the antechamber. The door to Benjamin and Ada’s office was open.
“Why don’t I meet you in the lobby?” Charlotte said to Jack.
“Sure. I’ll see if I can find the others.”
Jack left. Charlotte knocked gently on the door frame. Benjamin looked up. “What’s up?”
“You sure you don’t need any help?” Charlotte asked. “With anything?”
“I’m good for now, Charlotte. Thank you. Just keep paying attention.”
“I can do that.”
“I know you can. Now, get out of here.” He smiled to let her know that he meant it in a nice way.
#
Twenty minutes later, Odessa, Charlotte, Gabriel, and Jack gathered in the lobby and left the building together. They walked in groups of two, with Charlotte and Gabriel in front, to First Street.
“Is it like this every year?” Odessa said. It was just after five, and the heat hit her like a punch after spending all day in the super-chilled building.
“Pretty much,” Jack answered. “You get used to it. Sort of.”
Odessa used her purse as a fan. “Not possible.”
Jack smiled at her as they passed a group of protestors perched near the front steps. One of them took a step forward. He was a shaggy-haired guy in his late twenties, carrying a large, stiff poster on a wooden cross. His sign read: VACCINES WILL KULL US.
“Kull us, Frank?” Jack asked, surprising Odessa. How did Jack know this man?
“It’s hard working with black paint, buddy. You try it.”
“Ever think of using magic marker?”
“I’m not made of money. I make a new one of these each day. Gotta use up my paint.”
“Sure, sure,” Jack said. “Gotta conserve, right? Save the environment.”
“Fuck the environment, Jackie. Isn’t that what your dad says?”
Jack laughed and reached into his pocket. He handed Frank a twenty. “Don’t forget to throw in an occasional sandwich with the beer.”
Frank saluted and stuffed the bill in his pocket. He marched off with his sign over his shoulder.
“Friend of yours?” Odessa asked Jack as they neared the bar.
“We rowed together at St. Albans. He might not look like it now, but he was going places.”
“An addict?” Odessa asked.
“He’s got a mix of problems, but he doesn’t like people to dwell on it.”
The bar was half full, the after-work crowd slowing filling in. Pop music blared from the speakers and the menus and table that they sat at were sticky.
“Why do we come here, again?” Odessa asked, wiping her hands on a wet wipe she took from her purse.
“It’s the closest bar to the Court,” Jack answered.
“Good point.”
A waitress approached the table. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a veggie burger,” Charlotte said. “No onions, please.”
“A regular burger for me,” Odessa said. “But hold the bun.”
“No carbs?” Jack asked. “It’s not like you need to get any more beautiful.”
Odessa frowned at Jack as Charlotte pushed her menu away. Odessa was formulating her retort when Charlotte beat her to it.
“A: thin doesn’t equal beautiful, and B: there’s more than one reason to avoid white flour.”
“You may be my new hero,” Odessa said. “I will have the fries.”
Jack grinned. “I’ll have a burger too. With cheese. And a bun. And fries. And onion rings.”
“Make it burgers all around,” Gabriel said.
“And a round of beers,” Jack said. “Whatever you have on tap.”
“Just a soda water for me,” Charlotte said.
“Why don’t you drink?” Jack asked Charlotte when the waitress retreated.
“Did you know that there’s extreme social pressure on people between the ages of sixteen to thirty-five to drink?” Charlotte said.
“No, I didn’t. I just—”
“Well there is. And everyone just follows along.”
“Herd mentality,” Gabriel said. “Like this vaccination case.”
“What do you mean?” Odessa asked.
“Everyone goes along with the idea that you should vaccinate your kids. Who’s to say whether that’s the right decision?”
“Um … science?” Jack said. “History? The fact that polio was almost eradicated and now is coming back?”
“Those outbreaks were caused by immunization efforts in areas where people are poorly vaccinated,” Gabriel said. “The strains of poliovirus they use in vaccines can trigger an outbreak.”
“Actually, those cases are rare,” Charlotte said. “The problem isn’t the vaccine, but low vaccination coverage. A totally immunized community would be protected against both vaccine-derived and wild polioviruses.”
“See,” Jack said. “Science.”
“Science doesn’t have all the answers,” Gabriel said. “You of all people should be aware of that, Charlotte. Look at all the controversy around vaccines and autism.”
Gabriel’s statement thudded. Odessa felt an urge to wipe Gabriel’s smug look off his face with one of her wet wipes.
“Neurodiversity,” Odessa said.
“Whatever.”
“Not whatever,” Odessa said through clenched teeth. “Words matter. Descriptors matter.”
Charlotte looked about to explode. “You know you just pointed out the worst ‘science’ in the world, right, Gabriel? There is no link. No link. Do you want me to flood your inbox with proof? Do you want to see the very recent ten-year study that concludes, once again, that vaccination neither increases autism risk nor triggers it? In fact, those who don’t get vaccinated have a slightly higher rate of autism.”
“Isn’t there any part of you that wonders, though?” Gabriel persisted. “What if?”
“Dude, let it go,” Jack said. “Quit while you’re behind.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks. She distributed them to the now silent table. Jack took a long pull and sat back in his chair, cradling the beer against his flat stomach.
“So, on to a much more important topic,” Jack said. “When do I move in?”
#
By the time they got back to the house, Charlotte was the only sober member of the group. Odessa was regretting everything after the second beer, especially the fries that she’d only eaten to spite Jack.
Gabriel’s place was a four-story brick house a few blocks away from the Court, which was its main recommendation to Odessa. The neighborhood was tony, but the house hadn’t been renovated in the thirty-five years Gabriel’s aunt had owned it. Odessa had taken the daylight basement apartment over having to walk up and down the stairs all day long. Gabriel had been nice enough to install the security bars on the windows himself, so he wasn’t all bad.
“Who’s giving me the tour?” Jack asked as they contemplated the steep front steps.
“You were here yesterday,” Gabriel said. “Short-term memory problems?”
“He had higher blood alcohol than all of you combined,” Charlotte said.
Odessa stepped in before another argument began. “I’ll show you around.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows at her, then started to walk up the stairs, followed by Charlotte.
“I go in this way,” Odessa said to Jack, pointing to the basement entrance.
She used her key and stepped inside. The house smelled like Lysol. Gabriel was a clean freak, which normally she’d appreciate, but he took it, like most things, a step too far.
“Better take off your shoes,” she said to Jack.
“Seriously?”
“Best not to piss off Commander Gabriel.”
Jack laughed as he slipped off his expensive loafers.
“This is my floor,” Odessa said, gesturing at the sitting area filed with a sofa, rocking chair, and bookshelves. “Bathroom and bedroom are at the back.”
“Can I see?”
Odessa paused. Jack was definitely flirting with her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Maybe another time.” She walked toward the stairs, wishing she’d thought about having to climb them when she volunteered to give the tour. “Rest of the house is this way.”
The first floor contained the large living room, with exposed brick and floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond it was the kitchen, which Gabriel had tried to update with a coat of white paint on the old pine cabinets and new stainless-steel hardware. She knew he had plans to do more, but for now there were still rust stains in the sink, the stove’s enamel was chipped, and the linoleum floors had seen better days.
The next floor up was where Charlotte was staying in the back bedroom with the filigreed balcony. Her door was closed, so Odessa steered Jack into the front bedroom that now stored boxes and unwanted furniture.
“This will be yours, I guess,” Odessa said. “Bathroom’s down the hall, which you’ll be sharing with Charlotte. It could use some furniture, obviously.”
“At least there’s a sleeping bag,” Jack said.
“The bag is Gabriel’s. Part of his old Army gear.”
“Huh. Didn’t realize the guy was military. Though it would explain his at-attention attitude.”
Odessa agreed with him but felt the need to defend Gabriel anyway. “He’s all right.”
Jack’s features softened. “Believe it or not, I’m very grateful for the place to stay.”
Odessa felt like she was standing too close to Jack, despite being on opposite sides of the room. She looked away.
“Anyway, you get the feel. The top floor is Gabriel’s. All spit-shine. It’s the only level where the floors are refinished.”
Jack looked down at the disintegrating oak. “No sex on these floors, that’s for sure.”
“We’ll see,” Odessa said coyly, then spun on her heel and left.
#
Charlotte read her daily message to her parents over and added their family signoff, Love you to pieces, then pressed Send.
Normally it was the last thing she did before falling asleep, but tonight she needed to close the chapter on the day in a different way. She found Benjamin’s email address in the directory she’d received from the court, and wrote to him, trusting he was still awake.
How’s it going? Charlotte wrote. Close to having all the votes in?
The ding of response came a moment later.
Russo and the Chief voted for the stay. Benjamin’s reply stated. Kids of Texas won.
Her heart felt full as she skipped out to the hall. “Good news everyone! The stay was granted. All kids must be vaccinated before school.”
#
One for the bad guys, Gabriel thought, one floor up. He’d spent the hour since they got home researching polio. And measles. And autism. Nothing he’d read had convinced him he was wrong, but it hadn’t convinced him he was right either.
Moments like these made him miss his family. His parents had died when he was young. He and his brother, who was ten years younger than him, had been raised by their grandparents and visited Aunt Rosa during the summers. This house echoed with memories of a time when Aunt Rosa welcomed not just them, but all their Mexican friends in the neighborhood. That was part of the reason he’d wanted to fill it up with people. That, and the rent money.
Gabriel closed the browser and opened Excel. He’d tracked things since childhood, when he made graphs of his grades, building comparative pie charts from year to year, always looking to see more yellow (A) than red (B) or, worst of all, green (C).
He never picked a color for (D).
This year, he’d track the success of everyone’s recommendations. How many certs they convinced the court to take, how many stays they each thought it should issue. Gabriel had always been a competitor; since coming to Washington, he was determined to know who he had to beat to become and stay number one.
After filling in the name of every Justice, and then locking the top line, he filled in cells down the left-hand side with the names of each of the Justice’s new clerks, then chose colors for himself and his roommates.
Gabriel: Yellow.
Charlotte: Red.
Odessa: Blue.
Jack: Green.
He saved the document with a password, buried it in a folder he marked furniture, and shut his computer down.
He almost hadn’t made it to the Court, but he was here now, and he was going to win this game, even if the others didn’t know they were playing.
Of that he was sure.
#
Jack couldn’t find a comfortable spot on the splintering floor. He would’ve sworn that slivers of wood were entering his flesh through the thin sleeping bag, which would be par for the course of this shitty week. He thought of the king-size bed at the apartment he’d shared with Emily. Why did she get to leave him and keep the apartment? What had he done to deserve that? Was she ever going to return his text?
He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. The room swam around him. One good thing about being this drunk: he hadn’t thought about Emily for hours until now.
He had to find a way to achieve that with less alcohol.
#
Odessa used her last ounce of energy to wash up and cream her arms and hands with the rose-scented hand lotion her mother gave her for Christmas every year.
Back in her bedroom, she covered her ballet-damaged feet with Vaseline and pulled on white cotton socks. She slipped her heating pad under her back and set the timer for ten minutes, doubtful she’d stay awake much longer than that. Finally settled, she opened her iPad and Googled “Why did Jack Kerridge and Emily Henderson break up?”