Judging Beauty 01

Author’s Note:- I wish to thank all my readers and fans for their support during these two months. I have received both praise and criticism on my works and I appreciated it all. I had always loved writing ever since I was able to hold a pencil. The past few years had been challenging years for me, and I abandoned quite a bit of my writing. I am very slowly picking it up again. The inspiration for this story started in 2012 and throughout the years had been rewritten and edited, and finally today, I have enough confidence to set it free in the open 🙂

This story has recurring themes similar to my previous story- Projecting the Wild Man. Beauty Sands is a friend of Ana Pollock. If you had enjoyed it, you would probably enjoy this too (I think 🙂

*****

This story is dedicated to the one judge I know.

Prologue 

Dreamt not of you

Your presence never appears

In my dreams

Yet carried you in my heart

In all boldness of the sun

By moonlight, need no dreams to

Know that you are here.

My name is Beauty, and that is my real given name. It adorns my birth certificate, my driving licence and my resume. My parents were simple idealists. Months before I was conceived, they had already pinned down this name to their future, and if I may stress, yet to be conceived child if it were to be a girl. They had other names in mind like Faith, Hope and Serene. I guess that being teachers they had to use all the English adjectives they could think of.

Or just perhaps they wanted to make up for what they lacked – beauty. Beauty in the form of description was like a handsome man and a pretty woman walking hand in hand. My parents; they were not ugly, yet they were not entirely attractive too. So they should have the foresight that their baby girl would be a replica of the both of them.

When I came to the world though, they somehow thought it fit to name me Beauty. It was fine, really, until I was about thirteen. The kids at school would tease me about my looks. I was no beauty. Since then I had asked everyone I know to call me Bea.

Being a lawyer, I used to work in a law firm. My days at work were hectic then. If you asked me whether I felt pressured and if I had the worst job in the world, I would probably answer in the affirmative. That is if it were during the week. During weekends, when I had sufficient time to relax, I would say I love my job despite the fact that I had a miser for an employer. He was not only a miser; he was also quite a crook.

Everyone in my life calls me Bea except my parents. As simple as Bea is what I would like them to call me. I find myself not such a beauty compared to those film stars I see in magazines. Though I did not like the way Bea sounded, I had to make do with it. It was as though I were a fat, bumble bee. Yet I could not think of any other name which could be abbreviated from the adjective “beauty.” So Bea stuck with people, and over time Bea became my name.

So I lived with the name Bea and came to terms with it. Had I had better looks, I would definitely have people calling me Beauty. I was afraid that people would laugh at me if I asked them to call me Beauty. I liked the way it sounded though. I would like to say that I am beautiful inside, if not outside. Yet that it not for me to boast about my own attributes. I was afraid that people would think that I was ego-centric. 

I despair on why I could not be called some simple name with no connotations to it; like the way Mary, Jane, Cindy or Melissa sounded and meant – nothing as literal as my name.

…

Now I glanced at my watch. It was already eleven. Joseph was not here yet. I was standing along the busy corridor of the court building in the small town of Rubik. Yes, it does remind you of the Rubik Cube does it not? By the way, everyone in this town is expected to know how to solve the Rubik Cube the same way they say that children at the nearby seaside town are born with fins; expecting them to be good swimmers. Well, we were in close proximity to the sea too, yet the name of our historical town derives from the jagged cliffs at the far edge of town called the Rubik Cliffs which plunge right into the South Sea. 

Our court building here houses the Magistrate Courts, the Juvenile Courts and the High Courts. We do not have an Appeal Court nor a Supreme Court given our small population. The nearest ones would be in the city of Rhine, which was two hours away by car from Rubik. The Supreme Court was the highest in the court hierarchy in our country. 

Let me tell you a secret. I actually cannot solve the Rubik Cube. I avoided the Rubik Cube at all costs. I also considered myself a barely there lawyer. I worked in the security of my boss’s office and barely ventured out to litigate cases in court. Once in a while, I did crave the hustle and bustle of court life.

I looked at familiar faces and the not so familiar faces. The disadvantage of the profession was its superficiality. The advantage was that you got to help people in real time. I would speak of its disadvantage because it affected me more than the nobler counterparts.

There were some people I wanted to make friends with when I was in legal training but unfortunately they did not want to be friends with me. They were polite, to say the least but when I extended my hand in friendship, they made no move towards me not least until I became a full-fledged lawyer. Then they were somewhat friendlier. Though they are now my friends, I am always watching my back should I make a blunder and then am ridiculed at. I accepted it as part and parcel of legal working life. 

Still, I must have unwittingly achieved something in order to impress them into friendship. At that time, I was very fiery and optimistic about being a lawyer. I had just jumped the bandwagon of justice. I sought to change the world; make it a better place. Cliché works for me. I was like that.

One person who shared my nobler pursuits was a man called Stoner Corts. He was by then a popular lawyer and was known as the most eligible bachelor in the legal profession, not only in the town of Rubik but in the whole country. I was pleased because the capital city of Rhine was only two hours away from the sleepy hollow of Rubik. He drove down to Rubik often enough and I was pleased whenever he went to the Rubik Bar Society where I was then doing my compulsory legal aid training twice a week. 

He went there for work purposes. There was always something which dissatisfied him. He was always brooding like a melancholy composer the likes of Robert Schumann yet loud-mouthed when he wanted to get things done. Oh yes, I did like the heavy romanticism of Schumann. Not easy to appreciate in the beginning, but then it gets understandable and somewhat soothing in all its tremors. 

Stoner had a way with everyone including me. I remembered the first time we met. He barged into the large brick house which was essentially the Society headquarters. The former living room was modified to become a cubicle-free office where three desks were arranged. I was at the desk right at the door. I was on my legal aid duty. I had no clients for the day. In fact, I rarely had clients at all. Not many people know about this free service that the Society offered, which was quite a pity. 

He looked at the table in the centre where the State Bar secretary was supposed to be seated. Yet on this particular day, old man Phillip Townsend was not there. He went for a dental appointment during office hours. He told me to tell visitors, if any, that he was busy with an important meeting. I acquiesced. 

Since I was only a pupil in chambers, I listened to him as he was the Godfather of lawyers in Rubik despite the fact that he was no lawyer himself. He sure acted like one though. He kept the Registry List of all lawyers and he knew what everybody was up to. He could stir things up if he wanted to.

“Where the hell is Phillip?” Stoner yelled.

I remember being surprised. This was a very handsome man. Never mind the yell. Eye candy to brighten up the day was more than welcomed. 

He looked like a sculpture of the Renaissance. His features were perfect. His black eyes were oval; not too big nor too small. His nose was a respectable one of average size and shape. His lips were enticing. His hair were the colour of his eyes; pitch black against a tanned complexion. And his skin was just so smooth. I need not say more; he was the prefect specimen of a man.

“He went for an important meeting.” I said, catching myself in a breath after studying his beautiful features.

“Who are you?” He asked.

His eyes scanned the table. I was reading a law report on the freedom movement case. I was quite passionate about human rights, so I grabbed this particular book from the library upstairs.

“I’m on duty for legal aid.” I said.

“What meeting was it?” Stoner asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not his assistant.” I said.

“What time will he be back?” Stoner asked further.

In my mind, I could not help but see how ridiculous the situation was. Probably after the dentist had pulled his bad teeth out. Phillip was a chain smoker and he had yellow teeth.

“He did not say.” I answered.

Stoner moved towards where I was seated. He asked me to inform Phillip that he dropped by and wanted to discuss important matters concerning the promotion of legal aid. Then he headed towards the door.

“Wait, would you like to leave your name as well?” I asked.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards me. With his eyebrows raised and his chin upturned, he looked like he was in a movie played slow-motion for he held that very gesture for more than a minute.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, as if not hearing me right.

“Would you like your identity to be known to Phillip?” I asked.

I had rephrased my question because I thought my previous question was a tad rude. Thinking back, it was not very smart. I was making that impertinent question just as rude by beating around the bush.

“What?” He questioned me, scrutinizing my face for the first time.

“Who are you?” I asked, this time yet another variation of my inept lawyerly skills.

I decided to go plain, simple English.

“You don’t know who I am?” He asked me.

His voice had a melodious scale range which was in tune even to the untrained ear. In that sentence of his, I heard the melody in full as he questioned me with due suspicion.

“No. Have we met?” I asked.

I studied him then. I was bad with faces. Maybe we had met somewhere before in court. I was always nervous in court and I barely noticed anyone unless they greeted me first.

“I am Stoner Corts.” He said, loudly, clearly and slowly for me to hear.

He said his name in all its glory. He was so proud of himself, bordering much on ego- centricity.

“Oh.” I said.

So this handsome guy was the most eligible bachelor and I was with him. It was an interesting detour to my day. So happened he was the activist lawyer in the freedom movement case. 

“I’m Bea. I’m doing my internship. I’m reading about your case.” I said, quickly.

I flipped him the law report which was on my table.

“You will never forget me, now?” He asked, smiling.

“No, never. Stoner Corts, I shall never forget you.” I said, smiling too.

If only I knew how much then that I would never forget him.

… 

Amidst the sea of black and white; possessed by those lawyers dressed in immaculately neat suits, I hoped to catch a glimpse of Stoner. It had been some time since I last saw him; maybe about six months now. I was jolted back to the present of click-clacking leather shoes when I saw Joseph walking briskly from the other end of the corridor. I headed towards him. I heaved in a deep breath. I told myself not to panic and just keep calm. That is the way one handles Joseph.

I did not have to say anything to him. His footsteps were closer to me. He leaned in and whispered into my ear.

“I got the witness.” He said.

I nodded.

“Now, Bea, the judge will give his verdict in fifteen minutes. I want you to stall him in any way you can.” He said.

That was an order whispered in my ear. I considered it rude and without proper direction because I need to be told exactly what to do given my inexperience.

Yet this time I was on all ears more. Rationality took over my penchant of following orders.

“If the witness is really here, there is no need to stall the judge, right?” I asked.

“She is not here yet. She is arriving soon from the airport but not before the judge can decide. Stall the judge.” He said, looking at me fiercely.

“How?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Just go and do something. I cannot do anything because the judge knows me. But thank God, he doesn’t know you exist.” He said.

“He always takes a drink before going back to court, just five minutes before. Go and wait there. You’re a woman. Use that skill. ” He said.

“What skill?” I asked.

“Do it!” He said, gripping my hand tight. It felt painful.

Other lawyers with their clients were walking along the corridor, paying us no attention. Everyone it seemed had more important matters. 

Then just as quickly as he came, he left to make a phone call, presumably to the witness. 

I just stood like a statue. This was ridiculous, I thought. I also doubted if Joseph really found the witness. The trial had been postponed thrice already on the pretext that the witness was available in the near future but we had always failed to produce her to court. The judge decided he could wait no longer with this mystery witness. So he decided to give his judgment today.

This was a forgery case. The ex-wife of our client claimed to have seen our client forge the signature of the deceased – his father-in-law; and used the documents to facilitate a transfer of land to his name. Our only defence was that he had an alibi – this mystery witness. This witness would prove that our client was in fact with her at a hotel when the forgery happened. They were having a romantic rendezvous then. She was supposed to be the girlfriend of our client.

During the trial, she never appeared though. By now I think that they were estranged. That is if she really was his girlfriend.

I did walk to the cafeteria. I ordered a cup of iced coffee. I gathered that it would help cool me down. I waited for the woman at the counter to hand me my cup.

Then a sudden realization struck me. I did not even know how he looked like. I have never attended his court. This was the first time I was here. Normally I would stay in office. Joseph called the office today and told me to get to court immediately. And here I was. 

I had absolutely no idea what to do, and was perusing preparing myself to face Joseph’s wrath. 

The cafeteria was quite empty given that most courts were due to sit again in five minutes time. As a rather grumpy woman at the counter passed me my cup, I turned and then I hit something white.

I gave a shriek as the coffee spilled onto that body of white. Whoever it was gave a gasp too. The ice fell onto the floor, sounding like a waterfall of crystals.

“Oh, oh…” Were the only words I could muster as I gathered myself upright.

I could comprehend what was happening despite my monosyllable utterance. I felt cold all of a sudden due to the ice.

“I’m sorry. I was not looking where I was going.” Said the deep voice of a man.

I looked up and saw a man bending over me. He had pale, ghastly skin. Such paleness reminded me of the undead in horror movies.

“I’m sorry again. I hope that it was not too cold.” He said.

I watched him pick up the coffee cup from the floor. The woman at the counter immediately got a mop to clean up the mess while shoving us aside.

I looked at his imposing structure. I studied him now that I had taken in his want of colour. He was two heads taller than I was, in possession of broad shoulders and harsh features. His chest was as wide as his shoulders. I could not see beyond the white shirt he wore. His proportions were that of a brick wall built for the sole purpose of keeping nosy intruders out.

His skin was rough around his rigid face. A trace of stubble could be seen around his lips. These rugged qualities belonged to that of a lawless man in the Wild, Wild West; not someone you would typically see in the courts of law unless he was an accused standing trial. 

His hair was in blond, messy curls which contradicted his hard disposition yet strangely they complemented his placid paleness. What caught me in full mesmerisation though were his blue eyes. They were the fire and breath of this man. These strange blue eyes lighted up this man, giving him an upper edge compared all other men that I have seen in my life. 

I saw that my white blouse was now brown with spilled coffee. His white shirt was also tainted in a very dark shade of brown.

“Don’t bother.” I said.

“Let me make this up to you. Let me get you some new clothes.” He said.

“It’s not necessary, really.” I said. 

My words started tumbling themselves out now. I was supposed to stall the judge and now some clumsy man ends up spilling ourselves silly.

“I’m afraid I must. Now, nobody must hear from you that the judge from court two is a coffee-spiller, no?” He winked.

I did not understand his question. 

“You mean that judge likes coffee too?” I asked.

He was a little taken aback. His strange blue eyes darted into mine with a sudden velocity. 

Then he laughed. 

Now I was taken aback, wondering if he were alright.

“I am that judge.” He said, trying to stifle his laugh.

“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself.” He continued with a wry smile.

He told me his full name and gave me his hand. I reciprocated by mumbling my full name and shaking his hand. His grasp was firm and seemed forever. He held my hand for a long time; for the time he took to write a judgment it seemed to me.

I looked into his face without reservations. Against the backdrop of his pale skin, he looked out of this world. Enigmatic. His judgments were known to be fair and just.

“But you can call me Bea. Everyone calls me that.” I said.

“I’ll call you Beauty if it is alright with you.” He said, looking straight into my eyes for the second time.

“It’s a silly name. Bea is fine.” I said.

“Why is Beauty a silly name?” He asked. 

No one had ever asked me this question before, probably because I never told them Beauty was a silly name. I had some pride in me. Yet no one had also insisted on calling me Beauty. 

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” I asked, smiling a bit, trying to poke fun at myself.

“That you’re beautiful?” He asked.

His tone was serious. I thought I should not have smiled then.

“God, no. I mean, look at me. I’m far from beautiful. I hardly qualify.” I said.

“Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, isn’t it not?” He asked.

“Of course. That’s my point.” I said, wondering if we had reached some consensus.

“I am inclined to call you Beauty.” He said.

It gave me an uneasy feeling. He meant every word he said.

As I looked into his eyes, I found that its depths were shrouded in a cloud of mysteriousness. Its vortex was so deep, it seemed to pull me in.

“Okay.” I said, not wanting to argue with a judge over my name.

I was sure that I would never win this argument. 

By this time, a few of the lawyers noticed us. Joseph, my big bad boss, stared from the transparent glass pane outside the court cafeteria. He smiled slyly at me. What had happened was too quick for me to digest. I did not stall the judge. He had stalled himself by accident. I could have sworn that he did it on purpose had he not looked so pale and weak. Maybe he was thinking a lot. That was reflected in all his judgments.

At least I had done what I was supposed to do, albeit without meaning to.

“First let me call my interpreter to tell him to inform court that I would be delayed.” He said.

“Follow me.” He gestured.

What a pair we must have been. Both of us with coffee stains walking back to the judge’s chamber. Lawyers looked the other way when they saw him approaching to give him some sense of dignity. When I was walking by his side, it seemed everyone respected me and made way for me too. It was a far cry from my clean self this morning minus the spilled coffee.

I was now glad that Stoner was not here to witness this mess. I do not know how his reaction would have been. I did not know him well enough but I liked to be under his approval. 

We climbed up a flight of stairs where we reached the first door to the right. He opened the unlocked door. Inside was a spacious room with a large mahogany table and two chairs. He reached for the phone and called his interpreter, ordering him to inform court that he would be delayed for half an hour.

He beckoned me to sit which I did.

“Let me reimburse you for the cost of a new blouse.” He said. 

“You do not have to feel obliged. This is not expensive attire.” I said, speaking as a matter of fact. 

I did not earn enough for excessiveness.

“So what business do you have in court today? I have never seen you before.” He said.

“The fraud case that you were going to decide.” I said, gaining straight on bull’s eye.

I know that I could just make up a white lie, but somehow I felt compelled to speak the truth to the judge.

“Ah. Is that so?” He asked.

There was a hint of scepticism in his voice.

I nodded.

“You don’t see me but I work for Joseph.” I said, speaking far too quickly for my liking.

I was ashamed at my limited knowledge of litigation. Whenever I got nervous, I sped through my words as if I was pouring water into the sea to save myself from drowning; a useless activity which no doubt yielded embarrassment. 

I know that lawyers here behave and act a certain way. There are a few groups among the whole profession with lots of gossip from each group about the legal community, amounting to not more than a hundred regular lawyers who go to court.

“I see. I am supposed to give a decision on your client today.” He said.

I nodded. Belatedly I came to the realization that I was unconsciously twisting my fingers and drawing imaginary circles with them. I concentrated on putting up an acceptable first impression to the judge. I did not want to say anything which would make him think I am some silly bumpkin.

I was aware that at the ripe age of thirty eight, I should have had more legal experience. Yet I had stalled my career in favour of teaching in a public school. I was too comfortable in school to move out for a new career. Teaching was only supposed to be a temporary transition until I got a job as a lawyer. Yet I taught for ten years, procrastinated on job hunting yet enjoying it a lot for it was a transient phase of my life. I lived my teaching days to the full knowing that one day it would end. That realization kept me seizing the day come what difficult students may, a phrase we teachers substituted for “come what may”. 

Some fragility inherent in me was my inability to stick to my own rationalization over what is best for me. I wanted to portray myself as a successful lawyer. Yet this wistful thinking disappeared the second I saw him arranging his papers. 

Gone was the prim and proper first impression I had initiated. I felt compelled to ask when I saw how deft he was with his fingers toying with the bundles of paper on his table. He arranged his papers quickly and he did not seem clumsy at all. He had nimble movements and an accurate eye target aimed at border line to border line.

I was too honest for my liking. Lawyers lie, friends told me. Maybe I should have stuck to teaching rowdy teenagers.

“You bumped into me on purpose didn’t you, Your Honour? It was no accident.” I said.

I did not care if he was a judge. I was all for treating everyone the same. No more hiding behind fake boundaries. I heaved a sigh of relief. I shall not treat him with the superficial respect lots of lawyers bestowed upon him. Generally it is said that the more you “spice up” a judge, the more favourable his decision will be for you. This was what Joseph told me. After all, I rationalized afresh; I do not go to court. It made no difference to me. Let him lash out at Joseph. 

His pale face; from ghastly, simmered with colour. 

“I think you should go. Now, please. It is very rude of you. It was an accident.” He said.

He pointed to the door; nodding at it at the same time. The blue eyes were now shrinking away from me.

Immediately I stood. It was that regal command which made me stand up automatically. However, faculties intact, I was just as sharp with words, if not for behaving like an automaton. Certain things I could not help myself. I was more of a follower than a leader. Still, I pride myself in questioning authority. This is what I had learnt from handling those delinquents at school. They surely knew how to rebel. 

Well, at least I brought back some colour into his face. He looked much more presentable now with the reddening of his cheeks. 

If ever come the day should he thank me for that makeover, I would demand from him a speciality dish of mixed vegetables, Zen style. This colourful medley had captured my attention. I once saw it on the Cooking Channel, and was too lazy to cook it for myself. 

The mind has crazy longings at the oddest times. I was brought swiftly back to the present when I heard his deep breathing. He had somehow narrowed the distance between us and was about to shove me out of his chambers. His stubborn hands pointed at the heavy door. 

“You are afraid of something.” I said, moving away from him. 

He being close to me within whispering range caused me to feel very uncomfortable. There was a lot of energy emanating from this man. He was like a creature from the Himalayas – the Yeti – all warm-blooded in the cold. 

There was an air of eerie silence in the big chamber. Too many wooden structures for my liking. I concentrated on a spot above his head at the curtains. Even then, they appeared to be stiff grey fabric. Whoever had the slightest idea of decency would never have put up grey curtains! It was just so dull and yes, figuratively grey.

It was too much to look at him. He seemed to be out of himself now. 

I could not comprehend the quirkiness of my feelings. They shifted from righteousness to compassion. I now felt like comforting him. My pedagogic instincts had taken over.

Then I said, without any restraint, as gently as I could, “Do not be afraid. Talk to me and I’ll listen.”

He stood there looking at me from head to toe. He said not a word. He appeared stunned and did not know how to handle his unpredictable guest.

“Who are you exactly?” He asked with a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

“I’m Joseph’s new legal assistant. I have been working with him for the past year. I know I’m not a fresh graduate from university; but that’s because I was teaching before I decided to dabble in law. Yes, I know, I am much older than most new lawyers entering the profession.” I said.

And then silently to myself, “Probably the silliest one as well.”

Suddenly I was cautious of my looks. Maybe I did not dress right today. Maybe there was a smudge on my face. Maybe I just looked too ugly for my exotic name.

“Oh I see.” He said, still trying to read me like a book.

I walked towards the chair again.

Joseph’s command struck my head like a lightning bolt. It was about time it came. In the midst of this strange conversation, I had completely forgotten to do as he asked me to. I had no concrete plan or backup plan. I just felt like staying really. It was only a plus point that Joseph had asked me to stall this strange judge. He intrigued me like no other. 

“The witness will come. She is delayed at the airport.” I said. 

“Why should I believe that now?” The judge asked.

He was the first to break the silence between us.

“My decision is due, you know that, don’t you?” He asked.

“Will you then gracefully take leave to wait?” I asked.

In between our unanswered questions but assumed answers, I pressed the side of my head hard. My head was heavy; it felt muddled. Everything unspoken yet of importance were essentially in the brimming questions. They contained fire which rose with every word.

Oh, how much I missed those rowdy students! 

I saw how forlorn he had become.

“I shall wait then. Do accompany me here.” He said. 

“I don’t think it’s proper for me to be here. After all, technically I am one of the parties you were going to decide for. But I am glad that you have decided to sit it out for a bit. I appreciate it.” I said. 

“Let’s do away with the technicalities, shall we, Beauty? The law is so full of them. Does it really serve justice?” He asked. 

I honestly did not know. I guessed that if everyone were to abide by the procedural requirements, then justice is served. If some parties were allowed to get away with it while others slogged at some lengthy procedure, then it would be unjust as well. I know the law to have so many rules of procedure, but just as much on substance. The law was always growing.

The one attribute of the law which appealed to me was the flexibility and the various ways of interpretation. I sought the use of the power of words. I was a hapless idealist. I believed far too easily and thus was swayed like the wind upon hearing different sides of any argument. I was a tolerant observer in many cases. It had certainly weighed in on the way I listened to my parents. I might not agree with them but I understood things from their point of view. 

I had adapted this survival strategy especially when my mother found it fit to give unwarranted advice. She always does so without fear or favour. In many ways, she is like our autocratic government, deciding what is best for our people, whether or not we wanted it. She means well and in the best of times, we are one big happy family; and in the worst, I would not want to know. I think I have not reached that stage yet. There were already times when she was very unforgiving and hard on me because I did not take in to her choice of men. 

“I think it depends on the outcome.” I said, referring to the law now.

We did not speak more. I was now acutely aware that I was in his chambers, just doing nothing. Sitting down with a stained blouse facing him. The room, spacious as it was, had windows which were pad-locked. A strong scent of coffee lingered in the air. There was an uneasy tension between us.

Under the long fluorescent light, I saw that he was in his mid-forties. There were slight tints of grey on his sideburns. The paleness of his skin accentuated his troubled face. From his harsh features, I could see that he was an obstinate character. 

Then as if he had just been unwound like a toy, he started talking to me. He opened up to me. At first he had difficulty speaking but gradually he loosened up. And I listened; properly and kindly. I did not ask any questions like before. 

He seemed to be like a cup which was all full. For him to talk was to let go of the world which made him uniquely so him. 

I squeezed his hand tight. I was surprised at how warm my own hands were over his. My hands were normally an icy cold. My ex-boyfriends either found my hands a source of amusement or at the end of the spectrum, they viewed me as freaky.

I was going to make things all right for him. I felt a sense of deep compassion over this ghastly looking man called the judge of court two. 

“Sometimes it is the end, not the means to the end which matters.” I said, after listening to his narrative.

His new gaze took me by surprise. He was looking at me all this while but now this gaze was different. It possessed solid colour and the knowing anticipation of something greater. I could sense that his heart was beating fast. It was as if I heard it beat for me, telling me something. 

“And I believe in you.” I said, prompted by instinct.

Just those words and then it was time. The half an hour passed quickly. He went to the Bench while I found a place in the public gallery.

“You are out of this world. If only we had crossed each other’s path fifteen years earlier.” He had said.

“Why is that?” I had asked. 

“Then you would have told me off if I did the wrong thing.” He said. 

“You wouldn’t want that. Fifteen years ago, I was a very stern teacher and unforgiving. Over the years, I mellowed down.” I said.

“You might have had a crush on a then handsome lawyer like me.” He said.

We both laughed. I did not see how that was possible because then I was attracted only to tall, dark and handsome men. This judge certainly did not fit that category. His demeanour baffled me. Now a prince charming was all that he was not. When I was fifteen, Stoner would have fitted perfectly well into that category. Now a solid fifteen years later, this profile of a man still appealed to me. 

His interpreter called the court to order. Joseph, for the defendant, stood up and said that the witness was finally here. He argued in his bellowing voice that the decision could not be reached today. It was an affront of justice. He argued it along with a medley of Latin maxims which I did not catch but was nevertheless impressed to hear.

I concentrated myself on her. The witness had long auburn hair. It appeared to be flowing although the air was still in court two.

We cannot stop the mind from thinking of irrelevant details. I had wondered which brand of hair spray she had used, and what attracted powerful men to her.

Her high heels clicked and clacked when she stood to acknowledge what Joseph was saying. The clicks and clacks filled the silence of the court and sounded dignified. She had an elegant poise. She smiled and flashed her pearly white teeth at the judge, then at the audience. 

She was really beautiful. She could have been named Beauty and everyone would applaud. As a person unworthy of being called beautiful in the physical sense, I cringed at my full name even more.

Joseph requested for a fresh trial with another judge given this new evidence to prove that our client was in fact with her in a hotel when the forgery took place.

Following strict law, a change of judge was not required but Joseph felt that he had enough of the judge. Knowing Joseph, he wanted a judge which he could manipulate easily. This judge was not easy to read and string around the fingers.

His Honour noted down Joseph’s objections and granted all the requests. 

Joseph smiled at our client. I looked at the judge. He was emotionless but I could detect a trace of shakiness in the way he arranged his papers. I noticed because I had seen him arranging his papers with such precision from border end to border end in the chambers. He did not look in my direction nor at anyone in the audience. He merely gave a blank glance at the sea of people watching the trial. Some were journalists, some lawyers and others were spectators from the public.

After that, I told Joseph that the judge wanted to see me because I had spilled coffee on him. He wanted to give me a lecture, I said. This was not true at all. Joseph did not bother. He might be a good lawyer, but sometimes his perception of events outside court was obscure. Or maybe he did not bother about what I did. This would be the second time I would be in the chambers. Joseph said that he would meet me in office. 

“By the way, Bea, great job. I never saw it in you but you did great with that stunt you pulled off.” Joseph said, patting me on the back.

“Thanks…I did not expect it either.” I said.

Ironically, it really was the truth. I walked into the direction of the judge’s chambers. First door on the right at the top of the staircase. It was the only chamber in court which I recognized for sure.

On the way, I noticed that some friends were looking at me. Some in awe and some in disdain. 

“Hey, Bea. What brings you to court?” Sophia Gloria Kensington asked.

Somehow when I think of Sophia, I think of her in her full name. It was a mouthful but it suited her character. She was a gregarious personality who loved to hog the spotlight. She had for numerous times tried to vie for the attention of the most eligible bachelor in the legal world, both in Rubik, in Rhine and the whole country to boast. The Stoner Corts. Oh, he was not in court today, was he not?

I would not like Stoner going out with her because I felt possessive of him. But I knew I would not compete with Sophia. She was bound to win. Perhaps it was for the best that Stoner was neither interested in me or Sophia. 

She used to be on the Rubik Legal Aid Committee with me, but has since left to concentrate on more pressing issues. That was what she had told me. I had remained in the Committee since. I found, to my dismay, that the Committee was inactive and its’ Chairman; our mutual friend, Ben Lowe, dispassionate. 

“Joseph wanted some papers.” I said.

Automatically I said that. Sometimes I wish I would be more honest but I could not, given the situation.

“What was with you and the judge?” Asked Ben, one of my closer friends from the opposite gender.

I used to have a crush on him when I first started the profession one year ago. He was one of the nicer lawyers. All full of life and energy; he was running around three different courts in one day.

“I accidentally spilled coffee on him.” I said, shaking my head at the same time.

Again, another lie. But I can take refuge in it now. It was a white lie. For some irrational reason, I felt that I had to cover-up for the judge. I wondered if I shook my head because I had a higher sense of truth or was it simply because I was supposed to appear embarrassed at myself for spilling coffee at him; thus reprimanding myself. 

“Don’t worry, very few saw.” Ben was pacifying me.

Dear old Ben. He was always concerned of keeping up with the group. He was very influenced about what others would think of him. He could not have lawyers gossiping behind his back. He had to be the one who was passing the news; not the news itself. If it was something honourable he did, then he would expect the same. He expected this good gossip to go around as well without him having to do all the talking. He would just take a respite and listen to the praises showered by friends and non-friends. You see, news travels fast in the legal community.

He did not know that I did not bother about what impressions others made of me. If they gave me the attention, then I shall bask in its light. If they did not, then I will prowl like a cat in the darkness.

“Matthew saw. You poor dear. I promise you if people asked me, I would say I did not know anything.” Sophia said.

Ironic that she smiled when she said that. She actually looked happy. I likened Matthew Trisdale to the messenger of the Gods, Hermes, and loudspeaker of the lawyers which I called “The Noise”. He was also prone to exaggerate and make up his own stories. The only problem was that they all sounded very believable. I remembered my early days of practice when I believed his stories. I acted upon them, causing me to be unpopular by saying the wrong things. 

“You know what, you could tell them. I don’t mind. It was what happened. It was an accident.” I said.

Ben looked at me as if I was out of my mind. Sophia looked at me curiously. She would tell anyway. She never made promises. 

“By the way, have you seen Stoner?” She asked me.

She did not know that I vied for his attention, and that I had the opportunity to know him before she did. I would like to say “First come, first serve. Take your number and wait until you are called.” 

I shook my head. I did not think he was in Rubik today. He would have probably showed up in the corridors already. He was another one who loved attention. 

I finally reached the first door on the right. I knocked on his chambers. I went in without so much waiting for something as polite as a feedback.

“May I?” I said, more than asked.

His back was turned towards the window. He had drawn out the curtains for the light I presumed. He had not switched on that blinding florescent tube. I did not know what he was looking at. The view was that of the car park, the State Bar Society house and a café called the “Rubik Cube” which was a popular haunt for lawyers and nothing else which I thought interesting.

He had taken off his black robes, and looked more humane than he did on the Bench. Clearly he had not expected to see me again. His eyebrows arched in surprise and interest perked in him suddenly. 

“It took great courage to do as you did. You were as fair and just as people said you were.” I said.

He looked at me and beckoned me nearer to the window.

“Look at my world through a bird’s eye view. Five days a week I spend here. Coffee in the cafeteria downstairs and lunch at the Rubik Cube. Then at five, back to the car park right there.” He said.

“I told you because you’re different, I guess. Not like the other lawyers I have seen in my court.” He continued.

“It’s not surprising. I say the wrong things and don’t know my way around court. I don’t know who the respected judges are either. I mean no disrespect to you. I know you now. Maybe I am taking too much of your time. Shall I leave? Yes, I probably shouldn’t be here again.” I muttered at the last few sentences, thinking perhaps it was a mistake to come again. 

“No, do stay. Unless you are in earnest to leave, that is? Then I should not want you to be obliged to stay here.” He said.

I shook my head.

“I dread going back to office!” I said.

We both looked out absently at the window into pale skies so common in Rubik. Rarely is the sky ever a radiant blue. 

The one judge I knew trusted me enough to unearth his past actions. He spoke to me with an unrelenting fervour in his voice. I was mesmerized by the rich emotions his voice kept secret. He was like a broken record, stumbling most of the journey but braving himself to continue.

“I knew she was going to be late. Of course I knew. She was my ex-girlfriend. She two-timed me to be with your client. And then she broke off with him. She was the type who chased fortune. Then I broke the law to get back at her lover – my rival. I paid her not to attend court. Then I could not stop her anymore. She kept on demanding for more. That is when Joseph finally got her in with his own style of bribery. Apparently Joseph had more to offer than I had.” The judge said.

It was like he was in a confession box and I was his priest. Just listening, not making any comments. I was non-judgmental.

He went on talking about the case. He did not stop. Many a time his voice broke. He spoke of how he wired money to her from an offshore bank account. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, our hands found each other. I held on to his hand tight and would not let go. I wanted to offer some solace. It must have been hard to go through it alone, tough as he may be.

“I let Joseph do his thing. I let him request for three postponements. Those three times I gave her money not to come. Then I was to decide. I wanted to get even with the man who stole my girlfriend disregarding his innocence. I was just plain vengeful. Joseph did not know. She would be silly to tell him that she refused to come to testify because I paid her more than he did. And when she demanded more than I could pay, she went to Joseph bribing him instead. Joseph was of course desperate to exonerate your client of the charges, so he did whatever it took. He would make it worth every cent by doubling the charges to your client.” The judge said.

My grasp on his hand must have been pacifying for him as he continued to speak more to himself than to me. Yet now he turned towards me and looked at me with such sincerity that I blinked and looked down.

“Then I saw you at the cafeteria. Dewy-eyed and new, you just stood out like an angel in the midst of devils. Then I remembered myself. Twenty years ago, I was just like you. I was. And I knew I couldn’t give the decision. Damn, that man was innocent. A voice into my head told me to get nearer you. I just did and I bumped into you. I didn’t have a plan. I knew I just had to get nearer you. See then how it goes and then act accordingly. I didn’t want to miss the chance. I felt that you would be kind and I would be able to manipulate you to some extent if needed. I made you spill the coffee. I am so, very sorry.” He said.

I looked into his eyes again. I searched and I found a broken man. A respected, public figure who made mistakes. Who had a love who betrayed him for a man who had more to offer materially. What a small world this is. The past came back to haunt him.

“Please do not despair. At the very last minute, you did the right thing. Justice delayed is better than justice not served at all, isn’t it?” I asked.

He looked at me in wonderment.

“You do have a way with words.” He said.

“That’s because it’s my honest opinion.” I said.

Countless times had we gazed at each other. He took comfort in me while I took solace in having him comforted. A little reluctantly, I had to release my grasp on his. It was time I had gone back to office.

“I have to go now. Goodbye judge from court two.” I said.

“Wait…” He said.

His deep, venerating voice lingered in the musky air.

“How could I make it up to you for the uncanny sequence of events today? He asked.

“Treat me to a cup of ice-blended coffee from Starbucks. I love my Frappuccinos and macchiatos¬.” I said in a mouthful. 

“I could do that. Can I do that this evening after you have finished work?” He asked.

He was all eager like a restless schoolboy who cannot wait to go home.

I smiled, then realized that I had promised my mother that I would be home early today to help her cook. She complained that I only knew how to eat and it was about time I helped her cook in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I have a cooking appointment tonight.” I said.

“Oh I see. Very well then. When will you be available for coffee?” He asked.

I looked at him and realized that he was dead-pan serious about the coffee.

“I’m not sure. It’s not necessary.” I said.

I was thinking belatedly that perhaps that the coffee was not so appropriate after all, given our differences in everything. He was a judge and I was a dimwit lawyer. I could not possibly hold up a casual conversation which had nothing to do with the law. Even for legal matters, I was afraid I was not very well-versed about that either. For that, I had to avoid coffee at all costs.

Ah, I was just so fickle about things! 

He did not say anything. We were silent and no one broke the silence. Just as I was about to close the heavy, unbeckoning door, he called out to me again.

“Beauty, I would like to be friends with you, if I may. You’re a nice person, Beauty Sands, I would be honoured to be friends with you.” He said.

The very humane judge was very much acquainted with the word “honour” in speech; and naturally so since he was addressed this way in his court.

Leaving the window, he walked towards me in great strides. Suddenly there was so much energy in him. He now looked no paler than the handsome Stoner Corts. 

I looked down. I felt shyness overcome me. It was very direct of him to say that. Too direct for my nerves because in all my exposure to the world of men, it seemed almost like a romantic proposal. It was not so, I knew, yet I felt strapped in time with a mellow serenade of hope. 

He was now standing right in front of me. We were only a few centimetres apart. In the silent room, I could hear his deep, regular breathing. He was waiting for me to speak.

“It is always nice to meet someone new. Yes, we can be friends.” I said, looking at him.

I was a little startled. This was all new to me. Suddenly I was afraid. This could not be for real. Alarm bells started ringing in my head. I did a detour with logic having an upper hand. No one had ever taken the time off to curry favour with me. Was he doing that with me? Was he now “spicing me up”?

He had every reason to because he just confessed to me his dark secrets. I could have had him de-judged for obstructing the course of justice. I do not know if “de-judged” was a proper word. I know of de-barred though for lawyers. In Rubik, no judge respectable enough had been “de-robed.” Yes, that is probably the right word.

Perhaps he regretted his impromptu actions now. As many people do, he is saying nice things to keep me on his side.

He did not really like me. He was just using me. Sooner or later, I was bound to be at the losing end. It always happened to me like that. History repeats itself too.

“Don’t worry, Your Honour. I won’t tell anyone about today. You have my word. I promise.” I said. 

I did not say his name like I did when we were talking like old friends. I had gone formal with him now to emphasize on my seriousness that his wrongdoing; essentially a crime, would not be repeated beyond the walls of his chamber.

No matter how much I knew he was pretending to like me, I kept still my conscience with me. I was a sucker for propriety.

Still he looked at me with warmth in his eyes; compassion in his countenance. It was like he was searching me through the depths of my eyes. His eyes were his secret weapon. They pried into his prey without mercy. I doubt that he intended to do so. They gave him insight but they also gave him away. 

Ye the human eye also brought him back to earth from a stranger’s viewpoint. I looked straight into his eyes too. I was curious; of what; I was not sure. There was life in those blue eyes. He had such deep eyes; hard to find but they burned all right.

His enigmatic eyes were sizzling for a second, and then when he let go his gaze of me, the mysterious blue dissipated like water from the ground after a heavy thunderstorm. The sun must have shone hard enough. Then his eyes were all clear again. They bore the signs of a masked dancer in a masquerade. It was the same eyes he held when he had a sitting in court. He was wearing a mask now. 

Clear pale blue upon a painted sky. He was looking at me now the way had he been looking at the plaintiff, the defendant and their lawyers in court. I felt great distance wedge between us, catching me off guard and tossing me without care, as if the ground were a carpet and it was pulled from the other end. The deep conversation we had was a mistake. He had made a mistake and confessed to me unwittingly without guilt nor guile. I was his only witness. 

I felt a sudden streak rip through my entirety. It hit me hard. I felt my eyes welling up with hot tears. This bitterness I tried to conceal. Flaws arising from my heart were my only weakness. I was stronger than that. I could hold myself together. I should not blink and would not blink. Not until those wretched tears pursue its embarrassing course shall I bow to my own meekness. 

“Your Honour…” I attempted to speak yet I knew my voice was failing me.

My voice sounded like it was sawing through shreds of glass.

The Lord Justice Greg Rhodes was all eyes on me. His hands lifted slightly for whatever action he felt would entail from me.

I shook my head side to side; the way a puppy does when it does not want to play.

Since I could speak no more at the risk of my voice breaking up, I kept silent. Ironic is it not that one is the true arbiter of oneself when a particular trait is caught in a nick of time just before it manifests to others. One is not even aware that a particular trait in them existed prior to the fight or flight situation. Yet one handles it well enough. Bless the human being for predicting its unconscious actions in advance.

My eyes welled up more. I knew tears were to come. I did not want him to see them. I did not want…

I could not comprehend too why I was acting this irrational. I thought then that he wanted himself to be in my good books because I now had power over him in a moment of his weakness. I had experienced this with my ex-boyfriend and a few other classmates at school. I had been bullied when I was thirteen, being then a shy child at school. Other children would tease me by calling me my real name while shaking their merry heads; and children, being clueless as to the magnitude of hurt they caused, would say that I should have been born with the opposite name. They were bluntly honest. At least they were honest, no?

My ex-boyfriend was only with me because he made a bet with his friends that he would be with this “ugly duckling” for six months, and at the end of the bet, he would receive $16,000 from the group’s casino winnings. So that was how much I was worth. Of course this man was a jerk and I would be better off without him. Still, it did not stop me from feeling hurt. 

Perhaps incidents of childhood never really left me. In the deep recesses of my mind, there lingered still its embers of doubt. I would say that I grew up well enough. I was not hideous nor conventionally beautiful. Yet I did stand out amongst a sea of people. Many have said that I had the most unique eyes they had ever seen, whatever they meant by that. They were just being kind to a woman who had such big eyes that she did not know where to hide them, except under a pair of huge sunglasses. 

Here he was calling me Beauty Sands. My real name was a double-edged sword. Only this time it was spoken in a very pleasant way, and all the more it ripped me harder. I tasted the irony in those words.

This time though, things were different. He desperately wanted me to be his ally, or quite rightly, it was the other way round. I yielded the bargaining chip here. My school days had long gone past.

When a meek child grows up, meek still the child would be; and I was that grown-up child. Since I would not speak to him, I curled all my fingers in my right hand to my knuckles except for the pinkie finger. I hoped that he would understand my gesture of sincerity, however much it wrecked me to do this.

He apparently understood my small action. He emulated his left hand in the same way, and crossing through a vacuum in time, our fingers linked together. My finger curled hard into his, forming a knot resembling a section of a chain. We pulled our little fingers in the opposite direction hard and I was the first to let go of our tight grip.

“Friends for always.” I whispered into his chest. 

For all my height, I reached only that part of his body. My deed was done. It was time for me to leave now.

In the days of my childhood, interlocking our pinkie fingers meant that we were friends and that we would be friends forever. It also meant that the passage of time would not change the nature of our friendship. I hoped that it would not remain that way. I did not want to be his friend forever. I wanted out because of his insincerity which prompted this farce.

Looking at him, I bit my lower lips softly. I do many things when I was nervous. He was glued to the ground. He did not move. The pale in his eyes were shimmering like crystals.

Then I turned towards the door. Opening the heavy cedar door, I recoiled slightly when I saw Joseph standing right outside.

My boss immediately sprung into his lawyerly action. He saw that I was teary-eyed, assumed his own sequence of events and took it into his stride. 

“Your Honour, I am very sorry about my legal assistant. She is very inexperienced and clumsy. She still has a lot to learn. She never worked with adults before. She only dealt with kids at school. You know, teachers live in a world of their own.” Joseph said, looking at me and then at him.

In the first few years of practice, a lawyer is known as a legal assistant. Joseph’s exaggeration that I did not work with adults before was disconcerting to me. Of course I had interaction with other teachers. They were more adult than some bickering lawyers here. Yet it was quite true, at least for me, that I lived in my own world. It was my oyster, safe and happy in regularity of system.

The judge did not say anything but kept his gaze on me. I knew because I felt it on me somehow although I was facing Joseph. He seemed to have this seismic invisible ray on me. I kept looking down at my feet.

My big, burly boss was now a comfort zone to me notwithstanding his association with shady people, gangsters and their underworld. 

“Apologize to the judge for spilling coffee all over him, Bea.” He commanded me.

I did not feel like doing so. It was not pride but people think it is. This distinct quality was absent in me. I had fallen, and do they not say pride comes before a fall? I had nothing to lose. 

It was because I was on the verge of crying. I could not speak. 

“She has already apologized to me. No need for that.” The judge said quickly.

Oh, what an outright lie this judge is telling. Covering up for sure. 

I nodded to Joseph. I wanted to leave as soon as I could.

“Bea, I could not believe you were so clumsy. You were a disgrace. You’re lucky that His Honour is letting you off lightly. The least you could do is to apologize again.” Joseph’s voice was firm.

He was a good actor. I could see that he enjoyed playing his part. In reality, he was really pleased with me. He owed me one. In fact, both men owed me a favour. I could get both of them into trouble if I wanted to. Yet they knew I was not that type of person.

What I liked to do best was curl up on the sofa and read a good book. I disliked confrontations but I appreciated talking civilly in courts.

I turned then towards the judge. Like I have said before, I do not possess the distinct quality of pride. 

“I’m sorry for spilling coffee on you, Your Honour.” I said in a gulp, barely looking at him. 

I saw him through a film of tears.

Tears had streamed down my face. I was done for now. I made a fool of myself in front of the judge and Joseph.

I wanted to go home badly. I wanted to leave this horrible court house.

I wiped my tears with my grubby hands. It was undignified. I had no tissues with me for want of elegance. All I had was a small black handbag which just had enough space for my bulky purse which stacked too many coins and my mobile phone.

The judge’s arms stretched out towards me as if he was going to touch me somehow.

“Please don’t be upset.” I heard him say softly and bending down towards me.

I stepped backwards before he could touch me. I looked in the direction of the stairs. I wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

Providence must have had it when in the worst of times, situations get complex. Stoner was walking towards our direction.

“Hey there, Joseph. Good afternoon, Your Honour. And Bea, it has been months since I last saw you! I was in fact looking for you.” He bellowed in his melodious voice.

Had he been a bird, he would have been chirping. 

He was taken aback when he saw my teary-eyed face.

“Bea…” He said.

Before he could say anything further, I cut him off. 

“I have completed my compulsory legal aid, so I don’t go to the Bar Society anymore.” I said.

I was done crying. In that moment of weakness, I was lost, but now I found myself again. They were my tears but they did not define me.

Oh, I had really better toughened myself up!

Stoner glanced at Joseph and the judge.

“Hey Stoner. Free for coffee?” Joseph asked.

The judge did not say anything to Stoner. His unwavering gaze held me still. I could see from the corner of my eyes. I was looking straight at Stoner but felt the judge’s intense gaze on me.

“No, I’m in a hurry. Driving back to Rhine now.” Stoner said to Joseph. 

“Hey, Your Honour. Some other time.” Stoner said then to the judge whom he assumed wanted to have a drink with him too.

Stoner did the unthinkable. He hooked his arms around my shoulders.

“Come, let’s go, Bea.” He said.

I mumbled my goodbyes to Joseph and the judge. I let him lead me down the stairs with his arms around me. It was a weird feeling now. Why was Stoner doing this?

Ben and Sophia were standing by the foot of the stairs. Sophia’s eyes bulged when she saw us walking down the corridor. Ben just looked and looked. I did not introduce Stoner to them as I was feeling out of sorts.

“Do you think, Stoner, that you should not put your arms around me like that here? People are staring. You are quite a name here in Rubik, don’t you know that already?” I asked him; breaking the silence as we walked together.

“Do you not like it? I wanted to see you smile. Something happened there.” He asked me suddenly, eyes teasing mine.

“It’s not a matter of whether I like it or not, Stoner. People would think that we are seeing each other or something like that.” I said.

“So what?” Stoner asked.

“So…it doesn’t bother you?” I asked.

“No, it doesn’t. Why should something non-legal bother me in a legal environment?” He asked.

I smiled then. My shoulders relaxed. He thought just like me. I did not bother about what others thought about me; although there was a time I did bother.

“You’re smiling, Bea.” He said.

“I did not think you would want gossip about us for the days to come. After your fallout with Hillary, people were talking ninety to the dozen. And I did not even have to be at court to hear that. I heard about it on the phone from someone who went to court.” I said.

“Who?” Stoner asked.

“Not important, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Curious, naturally.” He answered.

“Sophia. The woman at the stairs with Ben. Do you know them? The three of us did our internship at the same time. Sophia once baked you a cheese cake.” I said.

“Don’t remember them but I remember the cake. It was horrible. Too much cheese, too quick, too fast.” Stoner chuckled.

“By the way, Hillary and I are still friends. We broke up due to personal reasons. What did those nosy parkers say about our breakup?” He asked me.

“You dumped her because you were bored with her. She begged you to stay but you refused. She could not get over it and she started losing interest in work until she was fired. She is now unemployed.” I said.

“Well, well…” He said.

“Is that true?” I asked.

“My personal life doesn’t concern you, does it?” He asked.

“No. I was just wondering if the rumours were true or otherwise. You have quite a reputation with women.” I said.

“But I presume I also have quite a reputation with the freedom movement and reform for our country.” Stoner said.

“I don’t deny that.” I said.

“Were they being nasty to you as a newbie here? I saw that you were upset.” Stoner said.

We had already reached the car park by now. We stopped walking and stood talking to each other. Our cars were in opposite directions.

“They were not nasty. I was clumsy. I spilled coffee on the judge. I got upset over my own clumsiness.” I said.

Stoner laughed till he had to grip his stomach. To me, it was a bit much for spilled coffee. It was not that funny.

“It was not funny then.” I said, recalling the unfortunate incident and my embarrassing tears.

“Serves old Greg Rhodes right! Always so stern, unforgiving and out of touch with us lawyers.” Stoner said.

“How would you know that? His judgments are fair, aren’t they not?” I asked.

“It’s the man; not his judgments. He is a sucker for procedural requirements; following useless law blindly. He causes a lot of delays. And he can’t be swayed by anyone. He is too stubborn to listen. Cold and calculating.” Stoner said.

“Isn’t that because justice is blind?” I asked.

“Not good if you are trying to defend your client to the last drop.” Stoner said.

“He is being fair, no?” I asked.

“Nonsense…he has made up his mind before the case is over. I won’t be surprised if he had already written his judgment beforehand. He is very biased. If he believes you, then he does. If he does not, then even God can’t help you.” Stoner said, looking at me.

I thought then of the judge. He seemed to be a conflicted man. Yet he seemed sincere to me. Oh, drat. That was probably in his moment of weakness. Then by pretending to want to be my friend, he started playing his game again.

I looked at the cars scattered at the car park. My car was at the furthest end in the corner because I could not park into confined spaces properly.

“Listen, Bea. You did a great job with the coffee. Wish I had the chance. Bravo!” Stoner complimented.

Stoner patted me on my back just like Joseph did. I did not like that. I felt like I was a puppy who had done a good deed to its master.

“I’d rather that you not pat me like that, Stoner.” I said. 

I could not tell Joseph that, but at least I could tell Stoner that I did not like people patting my back.

“What’s the big fuss about that?” Stoner asked. 

“I don’t know. I just don’t like it.” I said. 

I did not want to say that it felt like a puppy obeying his master’s orders and the deed was rewarded with just a simple gesture – the pat. The puppy would then jump and wag its tail like crazy in homage to its master who might give no second thoughts about it. I was not like that. At times I deserve more than just a superficial pat on my back. I deserve respect and appreciation from the heart. 

I stared absent-mindedly at the sea of cars through squinting eyes while we spoke. The cars were mostly silver, black or in pale shades. No car had stood out except for both our cars. His was orange in the bright sun. It was easy to spot it in the midst of cars. Mine was sticking out like a sore thumb because it was at the furthest end of the car park.

It had been a contrasting day with the weather as well. The sun was shining so brightly that one would imagine it warm. Yet it was cold with the strong northern wind from the South Sea blowing right against us. I was glad that I did my hair in a ballerina bun. It was tight and rigid with no room for the slightest fall-out.

I was glad that despite not achieving anything in the legal field, I was making progress in the hair department. Of course, not without many trials and errors. In the beginning, I had tried to do those chopsticks in the hair style. I felt them elegant but they would not hold up. Joseph had strongly chided me about that.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” He had asked me.

And it was then I knew that he did not approve of my tumbling down hair.

“It had gone loose.” I said.

“I’m sure you could do something else with it.” He had said.

I had, and now I am very pleased with this tight bun. I could have danced for a theatre with all its jumps and stretches.

…

Stoner looked in front of us at the sea which we could see from here. We were on high land, and the sea was a lovely sight when the sun was shining like this. Its blue was deeper than the usual blue. I imagined it to be as blue as the eyes of the judge, only much more accessible. It is strange that now I felt like diving into that accessible blue sea. I wanted to discover the gems of the ocean and be part of it. 

I sighed when I thought that I heard the sea murmuring in very low sounds. It was the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and the weeping willows by the shore. All seemed to want the sea for they leaned towards her despite the fact that its waves were often torrid, hitting the trees mercilessly.

“Bea, I read your article in the Bar journal on reforming prostitution law in the country. It was good. You had quite some ideas which I agree with in principle.” Stoner said. 

“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.” I said.

In reality, I had to thank Joseph for this. The article came about when Joseph defended a pimp. I had done the defence for his trial. The pimp got away with the charge of procuring women for purposes of prostitution due to a loophole in the law. After he was acquitted, I felt sullen and sore. I wanted to do good and here I was doing the opposite.

He managed to escape conviction because I managed to prove that he did not possess exclusive ownership of the brothel, thus mitigating his involvement. The fact was that he rented out the brothel to an accomplice who was essentially working for him. I managed to side-track the issue and put the blame on his accomplice who was not tried together with him. The mastermind was still at large. 

Yet when I prepared the defence, I found it interesting. I liked it when it challenged me academically. Joseph had said I had remarkable drafting skills. That was the sole reason he put me in office while he did all the court work. Normally a senior lawyer would engage a junior lawyer to present cases of lesser importance but Joseph did all of them even cases to get a judgment in default. Some friends had called me lucky because I get to work in the comforts of office.

The same night of the pimp’s acquittal, I had compiled all the law I had in regards to the case. I then wrote that article to ease my conscience. I did it all in one night. I burnt the midnight oil. I was passionate about it. It may be shallow reasoning, yet it did ease my conscience.

The next day, I had received calls from human rights lawyers. They wanted me to table the proposed amendments through the Bar Society to the government. I agreed. I spoke with Joseph about this and he acquiesced. Once he got his legal fees, it does not matter how the law might change for the same client. A person cannot be tried twice anyway.

The changes to the law had taken a step back for the past three months. It seemed that the government was not interested. I myself did not push for it. I was content enough that it made waves. If ever at all, next time when they were ready, they could consider the amendments. Now the big issues of the day were the freedom movement. Everyone seemed to jump the bandwagon on that. Talk and gossip was rife about the activities of the movement and the handling of the government over this “problem”.

“Just because you have finished your compulsory legal aid, it does not mean that you cannot volunteer for more. I’m sure you know that.” He said.

I looked at handsome Stoner, taking in his looks in a gulp. I wanted this man to be with me. I was glad that he was talking to me now. It had been six, long months. He did not call me although he had my number. I did not have his number because he said he would call and I thought it would appear desperate if I did ask for his number. I did not want it to be obvious so I acted cool. So I waited for that one call. It never came. 

Stoner made a name for himself by taking up constitutional cases. Basically I would say, he made a lot of noise and generated a lot of press coverage. Yet the cases were always decided against his client. At the end of the day though, I guess what matters was the awareness in society that things could have been different. Our government could have been more transparent, open and liberal. Awareness was the first step to a major change.

“Working for Joseph takes up a lot of time, and I’m not sure if he would allow me to leave office to volunteer for something that does not yield profit to the firm.” I said.

“Shall I speak to him?” He asked me.

“No way. He would get angry with me. I also feel like I’m a chicken not to speak directly to him if I wanted to.” I replied.

He laughed; then when he was done laughing, he winked at me.

“So you actually don’t want to do legal aid?” He asked again.

“Hmm…didn’t think of that honestly.” I said.

“A smart woman like you should put your skills to good use. You get to broaden your horizons outside office. More court exposure comes from legal aid.” Stoner said.

“Hey, with due respect, Stoner, I could count the number of clients I got for that nine months which I did legal aid. I basically sat there accompanying Phillip and being his receptionist when he goes out. When he comes back, I get a mouthful from him because I tell people the wrong things.” I said.

“Like the time he went to the dentist?” Stoner asked. 

“How could you possibly know that?” I asked. 

“My dear Bea, the least you could do to support your contention of “important meeting” was to rid his desk of his appointment card with the dentist.” The observant Stoner replied, with a sly smile. 

“If you knew, why didn’t you say so?” I asked. 

To tell the truth, I did not notice that the old man actually left his dental appointment card on his own desk. He had documents, letters, brochures and all sort of papers on his desk which I did not check. There was no reason to be curious. But nothing slipped Stoner’s line of sight. 

“Just to see how far you could go with a cover-up and you failed miserably.” Stoner said. 

I found it scathing that Stoner would say that. It just did not seem nice. 

“If I were to be there and I had an interesting case, would you like to have discussed it with me? But there is a caveat. Joseph must not know that I come to discuss matters with you. All he has to know is that you’re doing legal aid at the Bar Society.” Stoner said with a spark of intent in his eyes.

“Why?” I asked.

“Let’s just say Joseph and I don’t see eye to eye on free work. After all, I am taking up his very smart employee’s time.” Stoner said.

“I have an interesting proposition for you by the way.” He continued.

It seemed harmless yet came to live sparks of excitement in me. I wanted to do something challenging and I wanted to make a difference in this world. Perhaps even carve my name in stone as a lawyer who helped people. 

I had this ideal. I wanted to be compassionate yet witty. I wanted to do smart things and be respected. I wanted the acknowledgement from others that I could be spectacular. Strolling down memory lane, I realize now the fallacy in external acknowledgement. Acceptance and confidence had to come from within. I was wrong to reach outwards when I could have reached inwards towards myself. Despite being confident and not being concerned about others viewpoint on me, I still craved respect and acknowledgment from my peers. I wanted to do it in a way that did not jeopardize my freedom of expression. I was not content just to go with the flow.

“What proposition is that?” I asked Stoner.

He did not want to say. He wanted to keep me in suspense. It was just so him. Working me to his advantage. Yet I fell for it. And for him. I did not know which project I fell more for. At least this time I fell for it with my eyes wide open as opposed to being blind when the judge confessed his sins to me. I felt like I was getting back to the judge in a way. I was not some silly goose of a lawyer.

I caught myself thinking like that and gasped. It struck my mind all of a sudden how often I liked to compare myself to animals. I was either too chicken to do something or I acted like a silly goose. Many times I was as clumsy as a butterfly without its wings or as unprepared like a bull in a china shop. My thoughts had a lot to do with animals. It seemed rather uncouth to me. I am human. I should be using more appropriate similes.

Stoner and I parted cordially. He gave me a kiss on my cheeks. I wondered if it meant something more than friendship. I did not dwell long in that because I knew it would end up like all his previous relationships. I was content to crave the excitement of not knowing because somehow I already knew.

I did manage to speak to Joseph on doing legal aid. At first, he was incredulous. Yet he gave in when I assured him it would only be once a week and half a day. I would be back by two after lunch. In some ways, he was nice enough because no one ever asks their boss for time off to do legal aid during working hours. I was different because I stayed in office the whole time. I guess he was aware that he did not give me any legal training. He kept me prisoner in the office. 

So perhaps it was not a surprise that Joseph did require me to go to court the next day. He wanted me to get the signature of the judge for the case transfer after I had prepared the cause papers. As this was an urgent matter, he wanted me to drop everything there and then to get it done then.

I was in court, cautiously walking towards his interpreter’s office on a late afternoon. This was a time when it was quiet as most cases had adjourned by noon. It was protocol for all cause papers to go through the interpreter who would hand it over to the judge.

I was relieved that I need not see that man again. He had created ripples in me. I was too nice to him and was essentially a big baby to have cried in front of him. 

Yet when I knocked at the interpreter’s office, he answered the door. We were both taken aback and I fumbled over my words.

“Greg…Greg, what are you doing here?” I asked.

It was in the history of my life the most idiotic question I had ever asked. In the first place, I had called him by his name and not by his official working title. Although it beats me why I had called him Greg and held his hands when he confessed to me his wrongdoings. After that, I was doing everything according to my self-imposed code of conduct book again.

“Oh no…I mean, Your Honour. I did not expect to see you here.” I said.

“Beauty…” He said.

He was still in his judicial attire, all robed up. It contrasted with the paleness of his skin even more. And those piercing blue eyes frightened me.

We were silent for a while and he was the first to break the silence.

“Why have you stopped calling me Greg? You called me Greg before. Are we not friends? You call me Greg only when you don’t make an effort to act up. ” He asked.

It was not a question which I had expected. Yet he was observant as well, just like Stoner. He just had to be because he was a judge. I gave him benefit of the doubt. All judges had to be like that.

It was complicated to explain the reason. How could I have put it into words? That I felt initially that he was a pitiful, conflicted man and then he was a man bent on getting me on his side to cover his secret by pretending to be a friend?

I heaved in a heavy gulp of stale air. It was too much and I coughed. 

“Yes, we are friends.” I said.

I did not smile. I was in a serious conversation. I was also in a battle with myself to say the right things.

“I was looking for your interpreter to pass these papers to him for your signature.” I said.

“Ah, the transfer papers?” He asked.

I nodded.

“You could have come to my office straightaway for that. There are advantages having a judge as a friend, you know. I only do this to a selected pool of people and you’re one of them.” He said.

He was gauging my reaction.

“I shall do so the next time.” I said.

He then informed me that his interpreter was on sick leave and he was searching for some files in his room. He asked me to follow him to his chamber. I did follow him. He signed the papers without so much glancing at them.

“I trust that everything is in order?” He asked, after he had signed the papers. 

He had handed them back to me.

“Don’t you read?” I asked.

He shook his head, saying that normally the interpreter does it for him. In my mind, I thought what a lazy man he was.

“Beauty, I know we did not have a typical start to our friendship. I made a mistake and I regretted it. I thought you understood. Yet I sense that you are pulling away from me?” He asked suddenly, looking at me.

I felt uncomfortable. I shifted from my position in the chair. It felt even more uncomfortable.

“Your Honour…” I started.

He cut me off.

“See, that’s what I meant. Why are you calling me that?” He raised his voice.

His expression was sharp yet these lay a sense of uncertainty in his emotions trembling beneath the poised exterior of this conflicted man.

I did not say anything. Yet I did not rise from my seat. Somehow I felt glued to the chair although my instinct told me to get up and get lost from his sight.

Flee, flee now. There was a predator in the room and I was its brainless prey. I was really dumbstruck. 

I looked at him in bewilderment. I felt his angst and rising emotion of something greater which I could not decipher.

“Talk to me, Beauty. Where have I gone wrong?” He asked.

He had an aching in his voice.

Then I spoke. Had I known how relentless I sounded, I would have softened my stance. I spoke fervently yet it was devoid of what was rising right at my heart. Heavy and saturated, I could not bring myself to tell him how hurt I felt; because he was, in every other way, using me as a pawn. He would just deny that.

I knew he had made a mistake by confiding in me, and now he was doing damage control primarily to quell the naïve, not so young lawyer whom he had the misfortune to come across.

“Where have you gone wrong? Don’t you know that I can report you to the police for obstruction of justice? For bribery as well. I could have you de-robed. I could have you jailed for twenty years! No wonder you had to be my friend. You couldn’t have me acting against you, could you?” I said with a certainty in my voice.

Actually I was not sure whether it was twenty years imprisonment. Probably it was only fifteen years imprisonment. I made that up in my defence against him. I hoped that he was not that well read on the Obstruction of Justice Act of 1976.

Suddenly he stood up. He slammed his heavy mahogany chair against the wall. He headed towards me. I was startled. Panicking, I sprung from the chair only to be grasped into his strong arms.

His arms were roughly coiled around my shoulders. I felt his jerkiness and the closeness of his body against mine. Since he had the natural advantage of height, he towered over me. A déjà vu crept over me. I scented coffee in his breath. I stood only on par to his chest despite my efforts in wearing three inch heels. Arching my head upwards in an involuntary spasm, I saw his eyes flickering downwards upon me. His eyes portrayed an explosive readiness to disempower me.

“No, no…what are you doing? Please don’t.” I said.

My heart was beating wildly. My senses were acute; yet my reactions delayed. I was pumping too much adrenaline into doing something sensible. Yet I could not comprehend what was it I could do when his arms were tightly curled up against my shoulders. I felt some raw emotion simmering in me.

“I’m going to shout for help. I’m warning you. If you hurt me here, they will know it’s you. Your DNA will be all over my dead body.” I said.

“Oh, God!” He exclaimed.

“You think that I am going to kill you here?” He asked.

He tucked loose tendrils of my hair behind my ears. His fingers gently grazed my ears. His hands were so warm. Yet I shivered. How could he have been so gentle when he was so mad? No one had ever touched me like that before. I could only look into his eyes, bewildered.

“What are you doing then?” I whispered, finding my voice again despite the gentle sensation of his fingers which still lingered on my ears.

It was difficult to concentrate on rationality.

On hearing my question, he muttered an incoherent curse and abruptly let go of me. I stumbled backwards, hitting my knee on the tough wooden chair beside me. I clutched my knee. It was a hammering pain. It did hurt this time, and I held on to my kneecap in spite of the pencil skirt which I was wearing.

It had taken a bruised knee to recover from his touch. I thanked God that I hit my knee on the wooden chair. It woke me up to a degree of soberness which I felt was lacking in the surreal moments with him. 

My breathing was quick and heightened, so was his. He bent down, placed his fingers on the purplish bruise which had appeared like a scar on my knee.

“I’m so sorry, Beauty. I don’t know what else to say or do. Is it painful?” He asked.

“Not as painful as what you did just now.” I said.

From some volcanic emotion, he was now drained of blood in his face.

“Look, Beauty, I’m sorry. If you feel you want to do what’s right, then do so. Report me to the police and the Disciplinary Board. I won’t hold a grudge against you. I made a mistake and I should pay for it.” He said.

I bit my lower lips. If that was not enough, I also bit my nails. How unprofessional I was.

“Are you playing a game with me?” I asked.

“No, I’m not. I apologize for grasping you like that. I don’t know what came over me. When I’m with you, I’m never in my right mind. I regret everything I did towards you. Spilled coffee, confession and now this.” He said.

“How could you blame me!” I cried.

“Everything you did was on your own accord. No one asked you to confess to me. No one asked you to pick me up from the crowd to spill coffee on. No one…” I was talking so fast I could barely catch myself.

“Stop, please, Beauty! I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming myself. I regret confiding in you. I regret everything I did. Do go to the police and Disciplinary Board if that is what you want. In spite of it all, I know you do it not to spite me but because you have a pure conscience. You are a good person. I won’t go after you. You have my word.” He said.

We were still standing close to each other. I felt his breath on my cheeks. His warm palms were still on my knees. With my palms I swiped it away with the same indifference in a go as I did with a fly.

I fled his chambers, practically running out. I had forgotten about the cause papers which lay still on his table.

…

As I was driving back to office, I tasted the aftermath of that bitter encounter sprinkled with feathers which floated in my heart, as if a sign for help. Who was crying for help was suspect. It was either me or him.

I wondered what the ideal person would do as opposed to what I would have done. I had no intention of giving him away to the authorities. Yet when I recalled that sunny, windy afternoon, I realized that I did not give him my word – my promise that I would not tell on him. Perhaps that was what he so wanted to hear before he threatened me with his brute strength. 

I reasoned it was because I was naïve. I did not think about it. I was the listener; the follower; not the leader. I needed prompts to be able to do something. Clear prompts not vague ones. I was not susceptible to the art of insinuation. 

Perhaps he had read my demeanour like a book. After all, he was a judge. He read the people in the law. It did not help that he was fifteen odd years older than I was. Experience made him sceptical and cunning. 

Sleep eluded me that night. Every time I tossed to either side of my pillow, I felt my ears brush the fabrics of the feather pillow which I once liked so much; that is until this incident. My shoulders tensed; pulling me back to the vortex of his blue eyes, looking into mine when we were so close together. 

I did away with the pillow. I slept with my head on the same level as the mattress, at the same time making sure not to turn so as to arouse my sensations. Sighing and then with more sighs, I had the most uncomfortable night of my life ever.

My only consolation was that it was Saturday tomorrow and I looked forward to curling up on my sofa reading a good book on philosophy. Instead I did the opposite and read a soapy, romance novel. If only life were that simple, I thought. I knew, being a couch philosopher, that this was a form of escapism from the dreariness of life. Yet I did not care. The main concern was that I had acknowledged that I was escaping from reality.

I prided myself a realist, and had to smile when I coined myself an escapist realist. Well, at least I was still grounded amidst the romance blossoming between the hero and heroine in the novel. In real life, that does not happen. Yet I could make a go for Stoner. I could at least try. 

On Monday, I headed straightaway to the Rubik Bar Society. Old man Phillip was there, not surprised at all by my presence.

“I always knew you wanted to make a difference.” He said.

I did not mention this before, but I was his favourite among all the lawyers. I do not know why. Perhaps he saw me as someone nice. Years after he retired, he would write me the occasional e-mail, which is after he had learnt to master the internet. He confided that he was glad to have found a true friend among all the lawyers he knew.

I smiled, took my seat and waited for clients which I did not expect. Phillip was busy typing on the old-fashioned typewriter which made loud ticking sounds with interspaced rings. He was an old fashioned man and preferred it to the computer.

“The sounds are soothing.” He once told me.

In the beginning, I went cuckoo with the ticking sounds. Yet after a month, I agreed with him. I found it soothing too. Every time I did my legal aid, he was always typing. I could not imagine legal aid without him being there typing.

Stoner rushed in, pushing the grilled railing to the side of the door. I immediately perked up. I had been reading a horribly boring judgment by the Lord Justice Russell Bodem. Do you not, dear reader, see the irony in his name?

I tucked in my tummy, touched my hair and moistened my lips. I was all for impressing somebody. Stoner was worth every effort in my thirty eight years of existence. Never had I seen a man more toned and sculptured as he was.

He was like a fine marble statue in the parks and gardens of the Chateau in the Palace of the Versailles. I had wanted to go there one day, and I had dreamt I did. One statue came to life. It transformed into Stoner. Then I woke up. 

“How’s my girl today?” He asked.

“I’m good.” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

I liked being called his girl. Although Joseph had said that I was his girl, it was in the working sense and did not imply anything more. It was common usage for senior lawyers to call their legal assistants “my boy” or “my girl.” I was not however working for Stoner, but I was his contemporary. Yes, I like to think of it as such. We were about the same age.

And yes, I wanted to be his girl in every sense of the word. 

Through his ambitiousness, he had opened up his own law firm and took up controversial cases of constitutional importance.

After the trite greetings to Phillip, he sat down with me to discuss his new project. He told me that he was campaigning for the abolition of the Terrorism Act of 2000. The whole Act was arbitrary, he said. 

He showed me sections of the Act which stipulated that a police officer could arrest a person suspected to be a terrorist without a warrant based on reasonable suspicion alone. The degree of the suspicion being reasonable was subjective, and lately people being arrested under this Act were not produced before a judge within twenty four hours as was the normal procedure under the Criminal Procedure Code (Act 475). Terrorist acts were also broadly defined, covering a range of conduct which included blogging on controversial news, handling out pamphlets on opposition parties to the public and organizing rallies in public places.

It was a known fact that politics in our country was a dirty business to be involved in. Our ruling party held on to a slim majority and tried to quash all opposition. The problem with Rubik was not the terrorists themselves. They would have been a laughing stock to those who masterminded various bombings around the world in the name of religion. Our terrorists here were the common people who opposed governmental autocracies. They sought to make news travel to the United Nations; they sought to change the way things were for more transparency, equality and freedom of speech.

Stoner told me that I could write an article on this; similar to that which I had written on reforming prostitution law in the country. It would help his case; and in the broader sense, enlighten those still in the dark ages, he said.

“You are brilliant in this. That’s why I want you to do it. You are the most effective one to get the message across. Hillary could not do that.” He said.

“You have been comparing me with Hillary?” I asked.

I thought just maybe, he liked me a little. Not for my writing but for myself.

“Of course. I need the best people on my team. Otherwise it’s not getting anywhere.” He said.

“Okay. But I only want this published in the Bar Journal to create awareness for lawyers first. Not the public nor the government.” I said.

The Bar Journal had an exclusive readership. Only lawyers who subscribed to the Journal could have access to it. The Bar Association is the patron organization under which the Rubik Bar Society was subjected to. The Association only printed this monthly Journal on demand based on the subscription it received.

I knew how strict the government was in regards to reform. They had sent many a journalist to the infamous detention centre in the outskirts between Rubik and Rhine. All this under the Terrorism Act of 2000. Some of these journalists are detained there indefinitely. They do not await trial for reasons known only to the government. 

Stoner agreed. He was happy with me. He asked me to go out for lunch with him; which I did. Given our proximity there, we dined at the Rubik Cube.

I should not have been surprised when I chanced upon the judge. Yet I was. Somehow I did not expect to see him again for the third time. They say that three times is lucky, but for me, it was the opposite. He was with the boring judge – Lord Justice Bodem. They were having some roasted chicken wings together.

“Ah, look at who we have the pleasure to come across. Your judge and the boring one.” Stoner said, whispering into my ear.

“He is not my judge.” I said sharply.

“Hush, let’s pretend not to see them.” I said, desperately wanting to avoid another encounter with the one judge whose intimate secrets I knew.

“No. We need to paint the town red. Come along now.” Stoner said.

I did not see the rationale in painting the town red. Yet he held my hand and walked me towards their table. 

“Greetings to the arbiters of justice.” Stoner said.

There was a mocking melody in his rich voice. I felt it was not necessary for such blatant displays which had no after-value, however much Stoner did not like the judge. 

Both men looked up. The judge tensed when he saw me. I felt like a naughty baboon looking for trouble when there was not. There again, I go on calling myself after animals. The boring judge nodded at us, clearly not interested in a bunch of junior lawyers.

“Good afternoon Your Honours.” I said, glancing from one judge to the other.

He did speak after all.

“Good afternoon to the both of you. The chicken wings here are good. You should both give it a try.” He said, pointing at his piece of wing.

“Nah, dating couples shouldn’t go for chicken wings, Greg. You should know that better. It’s messy!” Russell finally spoke, but he looked at the judge and not as us.

“Dating?” The judge looked at me, then at Stoner.

The knife and fork he used fell on his plate with a clang. It startled me.

“Are you out of touch with gossip, already, old man? They are an item. Matthew said he saw them kissing at the car park.” Russell said.

He turned out to be interested in things which I felt a judge should not bother with. Sensationalism is only for entertainment in my opinion.

Stoner immediately hooked his arms around my waist. I looked up towards him, wondering what he was up to.

The one judge I knew shook his head and picked up his knife and fork again.

“I must be out of touch then. You’re right, I’m an old man, Russell. I didn’t realize how old I was before. Time flies. One day I wake up and I’ve nearly lived half my life.” The judge said, turning towards his associate.

Then he gazed at me. It was a quick peep as if he did not want to see me but was checking on something.

Yet it was Lord Justice Bodem who spoke to me.

“Bea, isn’t it? You’re now in the headlines of Rubik’s legal community. How does it feel like to be dating the most eligible bachelor in the legal profession?” He asked.

I felt that a reply was unnecessary. I tried to smile eventhough I did not feel like it. I felt that I had to show some sort of reply.

“Oh, yes. I did hear about it then. You’re Bea. I tend to forget your name. I thought Bea was someone else and you were…” The judge said.

I cut him off immediately. I hoped that it was not too obvious.

“It’s ok. Not important.” I said, looking at him.

“Beauty.” He said.

He just had to say it out to spite me. He looked at me intensely.

“Beauty?” Stoner asked.

“That’s my real name.” I said quickly.

“I thought it was Beatrice.” Stoner said.

“Well, now you know more about your girlfriend, Stoner. Her real name is Beauty.” The judge said.

I felt a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I did not like the way he sounded. This was the first time I heard him speak like that. I hated him that instant.

I looked at the judge. I did not glare or stare inappropriately. I was hurt that he brought up my real name and revealed it to Stoner. I could have told this to Stoner myself when I wanted to. Definitely not when the judge decides.

Stoner was caught off guard for a second. His gift of the gab was clogged up by virtue of my unusual name.

“It’s okay Stoner. Not many people know my real name. Everyone calls me Bea, you know that. I don’t use it because it’s weird. It’s like I’m from a fairy-tale.” I said.

“Yeah. Like Beauty and the Beast.” Stoner said, smiling me a fake toothpaste commercial smile.

The smile was overdone but I was glad he did not seem offended by the fact that he did not know me more than that horrible judge knew.

“We’ll leave you both for lunch. Have a good day.” I said to the judges, glancing quickly at the judges’ chicken wings.

Bones were more pleasant to look at than at the judges.

Stoner and I had some sandwiches instead. I was thinking that I should not eat too much in front of him. I had the tendency to eat more than men. I had observed this over time. Yet I thank my metabolism rate which kept me the petite size I am. I wanted to show Stoner that I was gentle and delicate, although the barbequed chicken wings smelt good. 

“When can you get it done, Bea?” Stoner asked while we were waiting for our food.

“What done?” I asked.

I was preoccupied with punching the judge right at his broad chest. I observed him from the corner of my eyes.

“The article on reforming terrorism law.” Stoner said.

“Ah…well, depending on how much work Joseph gives me. Maybe two months.” I said.

“Two months! Bea, that is too long! You should do it in one month the most.” Stoner said, raising his voice.

“I need to do thorough research before I write it, Stoner. It doesn’t happen overnight. If it is to be of any good, it cannot be rushed.” I said.

“Do you know how many journalists are in detention without trial now, Bea? How could you let them languish like that? After your article is published, I am going to hold campaigns based on the reforms you will write. I am going to march for justice with my supporters. This thing I’m planning is greater than the both of us. It’s not only about you, Bea. You can’t be selfish.” Stoner said.

His voice was hard.

I had not seen him this way before. I was curious; and then I understood. He wanted to make a difference in this world. Was it not the cliché I had so believed in? I wanted to help people and be an asset to society. I wanted to do something for the people of Rubik and our country.

Stoner was being himself; he was fighting for the rights of the people. How could I deny him that? I could not be selfish.

“I’ll finish it in a month.” I said, nodding my head.

“You’re such a darling.” He replied.

He raised my hands to his and from across the table, kissed my limp hands. Another showcase of affection in front of the judge and his nosy friend. They had seen us from their discreet corner.