Legally Wasted (3 page)

“Yeah, well.” Madeline shrugged. “You know
me.”

“I do.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I had ‘happily ever after’ in mind.”

“So do I,” said Madeline. Larkin thought her
smile was the stuff at the center of nuclear blasts, all brightness
and power. “But I think we have two slightly different
pictures.”

“Not at all,” said Larkin. He scooted to the
edge of the bench. Adrenaline from his Perry Mason moment still
bubbled in his blood. His left hand brushed against the mini-booze
inside its holster. “You see - -”

“The Judge will see you now, Mr. Monroe,”
shouted a bailiff from across the lobby. “Just head to that door
yonder. They’ll buzz you in.”

Larkin nodded. He gave Madeline a wink and a
thigh pinch before standing. As he followed the bailiff’s
directions he found himself praying that Madeline had not done
anything rash with the ring. She was a wise one, but a fire burned
in her. Hot blood from her mother.

“She’s expecting you,” said a kindly
secretary as Larkin made his way around a corner.

The Judge’s private office actually appeared
quite predictably judicial. Sections of the United States Code and
various treatises lined the shelves behind the Judge’s tall leather
chair. Various diplomas and certificates cluttered the walls. Not
one had a frame that was less than three inches thick. The office
even had a two-foot statue of Lady Justice with her scales.
Contrasting all of this was a cookie jar in the shape of a begging
dachshund on a small filing cabinet.

Despite fluorescent fixtures installed
overhead, the room was lit only by three elegant metal lamps of a
Victorian design. This gave the office a softer and cozier feel
despite its large size. As he approached one of the chairs, Larkin
heard a toilet flush. A moment or two later and door behind the
Judge’s desk opened and Judge Wexler entered her office, black robe
neatly folded over her right arm. She wore an attractive woman’s
charcoal business suit. It appeared so well-fit to her small frame
that Larkin assumed it was custom made. The cut of the suit was
surprisingly very modern.

“Well hello there, Mr. Monroe,” the Judge
said. She tossed the robe onto a side table and sat upon her chair.
The back of the chair towered over the top of her head. “Please,
take a seat.”

Larkin sat.

“Do you know what I like about being a
Judge?” she asked.

“Being married to the Constitution?” Larkin
asked with a hopeful grin.

The Judge laughed. “I’ve never heard of
that,” she said. Like on the bench, she leaned back, crossed her
arms, and cocked her head just a bit to the side.

“Article 3 says you’re a Judge for life,”
said Larkin. “That kind of sounds like a marriage to me.” The Judge
laughed again. Larkin pointed to Lady Justice. “Wedding
present?”

The Judge nodded and gave a bit of a laugh.
“From a law school buddy. She’s a bit much, but we’ve grown to be
good sisters.” She looked around her office as she mouthed the
words, “for life.” Her eyebrows raised. “Actually,” the Judge said,
“I’m just a Magistrate Judge. Only the full District Court Judges
are appointed for life. Maybe one day, I can propose to that lovely
lady. It’s an arranged marriage, you understand.”

“The President picks,” said Larkin.

The Judge nodded.

“Has there ever been a female District Court
Judge in this area before?”

“No,” she answered firmly.

Larkin shifted back to the topic at hand. “So
if it’s not that,” said Larkin, “then I don’t know what it is that
you like best.”

“It’s meeting people.”

Larkin nodded. “I suppose that would be
interesting. You’ve probably met some characters.”

“Over the years, sure,” said the Judge.
“Occasionally I’ll ask someone back here, a person of interest, to
chat a bit more.”

“A person of interest,” said Larkin. “Kind of
sounds like a criminal investigation.”

“You know some of the law it seems, Mr.
Monroe. Have some time on your hands at the library?”

Larkin shrugged. “I actually took the LSAT
not too long ago.” He had hoped that this statement would have
prompted at least an eyebrow raise, but the Judge simply regarded
him with the same look of slight amusement. “I’ve applied to a few
. . . selective law schools.”

“So are you and Ms. Simmons going to law
school together?”

Larkin bit his lip. “Well . . . no. And by
that, I mean that she is not going to go to law school, but that
we’re going to be together.”

“There aren’t any selective law schools in
Big Lick, Virginia. No law schools at all in fact. Where have you
applied?”

“Actually,” said Larkin, his heart rate
quickening, “I was just accepted at Cornell.” It was news that he
had wanted to shout to the world. Larkin Monroe, Mr.
Weird-Southern-name from Nowheresburg, was going to receive an Ivy
League legal education. At that time, Judge Wexler was the first
person that Larkin had informed of this news.

The Judge lightly clasped her hands as she
had in court. Larkin was amazed to see that her golden bracelet now
encircled her right wrist. “Well, that’s a fine school,” she said.
“A very fine school. You must have knocked the test right out of
the park.”

“I studied hard.”

“And Ms. Simmons will be following you to New
York?”

“No. I don’t think so. She’s got a family to
take care of. Her father needs help and . . . it’s health reasons.
She works here in town and I think that’s going to have to continue
here until I’m through school.” With the back of his right hand he
dabbed perspiration from his forehead. Why was it more difficult to
speak with the Judge privately? “It’s just three years, right?”

“You haven’t told her,” said the Judge.

“Sorry?” asked Larkin although he knew
exactly what the Judge had said and meant.

“Cornell. You haven’t told her about it.”

“You’re right,” said Larkin. He looked down
at the thick maroon rug that covered the parquet floor. “She knows
I applied, but not that I was admitted.” He looked back at the
Judge. “But it’s not just the admission, your Honor. It’s nearly a
full ride. There’s really no other option for me. I’m not exactly
hailing from a family full of railroad or coal money.”

“So what are you waiting for? Are you just
going to hop on a train to Ithaca one morning and send her a
postcard?”

Larkin shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s
been hard.”

“You don’t want to hurt her.”

Again, Larkin shook his head.

The Judge pushed herself away from her desk
and stood. Without her robe, her size had diminished significantly.
And though she certainly beamed charisma, she looked mundane. She
could have been any woman on the street, but one you wanted to
meet. The Judge walked toward her window and with two fingers,
pushed several of the venetian blinds out of her way. She squinted
in the shaft of daylight.

“Railroad is never coming back.”

“Afraid not,” Larkin agreed.

The Judge turned. She smiled brightly, gave a
nod and returned to her chair. “I have a son a few years older than
you,” said the Judge as she opened the center drawer to his desk,
“He’s a lawyer just like mom.” She reached in and withdrew a
business card. “Sam Wexler,” said the Judge as she slid the card
across the table. “He works here in town. Just started up his
practice.”

“Just like mom,” Larkin repeated as he
studied the card. Judge Junior appeared to be a solo-practitioner
with an office in downtown.

“Criminal law, mostly,” said the Judge, “but
a general practice to be sure. He’s in court quite a bit. You can’t
put a price tag on that kind of experience. You go off to Cornell
and you’ll be handpicked by one of the big firms. You probably
won’t see a courtroom. Document review. The meat grinder.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I lived it,” said the Judge. “Have you ever
heard of reading for the law?”

“I don’t believe I have,” lied Larkin.

“It’s an old option that only a few states,
Virginia being one of them, practices. Some would like to do away
with it all together.” She clasped her hands and leaned forward.
The leather chair barely moved. “Essentially, it’s an
apprenticeship. You work with a licensed attorney, learn the ropes.
On the job training. No navel-gazing legal theory. Just the nuts
and bolts. You learn how to actually practice the damn law. And my
son could use someone like you. Someone who likes to research.”

Larkin opened his mouth, but this time his
brain could not catch up. He was at a loss for words. He stared at
Lady Justice’s exposed bronze breast and tried to wrap his mind
around the hand he had just been dealt by a federal judge. “Are you
offering me an apprenticeship with your son?”

“No tuition,” said the Judge. “No competition
from law students who will rip key pages from the law books in the
library. No years of abstract legal theory that has zero effect on
the real world. I’m talking about nuts and bolts litigation. You’ll
be working in the trenches and you’ll learn more in your first
three months than you would at a place like Cornell in three years.
And, I’m sure you can be paid some type of paralegal wage. You
could make more than as a librarian. Think about it. In one year,
you’ll know more about the actual practice of law than any law
student in America. You still have to pass the bar exam of course,
but I think standardized tests might just be your forte.” She
winked.

Larkin nodded. His mind raced. A job offer
was the last thing he had expected when he had entered the Judge’s
chambers. He thought of Madeline waiting for him in the lobby.
Sweet Madeline with a finger in dire need of a ring.

“It’s something to think about, isn’t it?”
asked the Judge.

Larkin nodded. “I think, Judge, that if the
President doesn’t appoint you to be on the district court level,
you can have an excellent career in sales.”

The Judge smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

Larkin smiled a true smile, but he shook his
head slightly from side to side. “I . . . let me think about
it.”

Madeline’s car battery died at the
courthouse, but luckily, her would-be fiancé had been forced to
drive separately that day. All of Larkin’s many words had left him
as he drove silently. He thought about the Judge’s offer juxtaposed
against ivy coated brick walls and a world at which he could only
guess. Secret Knowledge. Privilege. Madeline rested one hand upon
the dashboard to steady herself. Larkin’s car needed new shocks
forty thousand miles ago. Her other hand rested on his, and that
slight touch made it nearly impossible to gauge his commitment to
either Cornell or Wexler & Monroe, Attorneys at Law.

“Thank the Lord the courthouse is right near
work,” said Madeline as she stared at the grand Tudor mansion
looming at the edge of downtown. The Hotel Big Lick, like much of
the city, could have used a good spit-polish and a coat of paint,
but that did not take away from its grandeur.

“You’ve never been late once,” said Larkin.
“Or even called in sick. Besides, who is going to check in on a
Tuesday morning?”

“You’re thinking about something,” said
Madeline.

“I’m thinking about how much I hope you
didn’t flush my ring down the toilet.”

“It’s safe. What else did the Judge tell
you?”

Larkin smirked as he turned onto the hotel’s
driveway. “Are you psychic?”

“Yes. What else did she say?”

Larkin cleared his throat. He parked his
pickup at the service entrance. Two outdoor ashtrays overflowed
with cigarette butts. A huge air conditioning unit, spotted with
rust, whirred and shook next to the truck. Larkin rolled up the
windows and sighed.

“I’m about to make you really late for work,”
he said as he softly bit his lower lip.

“What did she say?” asked Madeline as she
quickly unbuckled her belt and sat up in her chair.

“She . . . well,” said Larkin as he cleared
his throat again, “She offered me a job.”

“Who? The Judge? She offered you a job?”

Larkin nodded.

“A job? What kind of job?”

“To be a lawyer.”

“What?” Madeline bounced as if the car still
wobbled down the road on its worn shocks.

Larkin again nodded. “Apparently Virginia has
this apprentice program. The Judge’s son works as a lawyer in town.
I would work for him and then, eventually, I would be able to take
the bar exam.”

“Oh my God!” shouted Madeline as her hands
cupped over her mouth. “That’s . . . that’s . . .”

“I know,” said Larkin. “It came out of left
field.”

“That’s wonderful!” A tear fell from her
eye.

Larkin bit his lip even harder. Her joyous
smile stabbed at his heart. The quickness with which she had
summoned such a tear gave him surprising worry.

“Oh, I can’t believe it,” she said as she
dried her cheeks. “It’s just a miracle, right? I mean, you wouldn’t
have to pay any tuition. You can’t afford any of the schools you
applied to anyway, right? He would have to pay you for working
there. You won’t have to worry about paying for some big private
law school you could never afford.”

“That’s true,” said Larkin. Now it was the
letter’s turn to play the demon in his pocket. He could feel the
edges of the paper begin to smolder. Soon they would alight and all
the ivy would burn. Madeline turned and looked at the horizon as if
the future had just crystallized for her twenty feet left of the
giant Dr. Pepper bottle cap towering above the Williamson Road
overpass. Larkin’s shoulders dropped.

“Wow,” she said. “You never even heard back
from those real snooty schools that you applied to. Well, to hell
with them. You don’t even need them.”

“Right,” said Larkin. Sweat covered his face.
His heart pounded.

She leaped from her seat onto his lap. Before
he knew it, they were kissing. He knew she could taste the rest of
the bourbon he had swigged in the courthouse bathroom after meeting
with the Judge, but she apparently didn’t care. Her arms pawed at
his back a moment before finally just digging in for a tight hug.
Larkin closed his eyes and smelled her sweet skin. He pulled her
even closer to him. His heart thundered in his chest.