The Tenth Justice (25 page)

“I feel enlightened already.”

“And if you’re lucky, I’ll show you my favorite spot in the whole city.”

“We’re going to the library?”

“I can stop the car anytime,” Ben said.

“I’ll be good. I promise,” Lisa said, pulling an imaginary zipper across her lips.

At four-thirty that afternoon, Ben pulled the car into a small, graveled lot off Memorial Drive. Theirs was the only car in the tiny lot. Lisa looked around suspiciously. “If this is your old make-out place, I’m gonna be sick.”

“It’s not my old make-out place,” Ben said, turning off the engine. “I told you, I’m bringing you to my favorite spot in the city. Did I lie to you about anything so far?”

“There were no skateboarders at Copley Square.”

“It’s freezing out,” Ben said. “Besides that, though.”

“The performers in Harvard Square sucked.”

“The best ones come out at night. Besides that.”

Thinking for a minute, she eventually said, “No, you have not lied about anything else.”

“Then follow me,” Ben said, getting out of the car. He walked against the cold wind that blew off the river and headed toward a narrow bicycle path that ran along the lot. The view from the concrete path was obstructed by a fence of aged and rotted wood currently covered with various spray-painted slogans. At a corner on the path, the wall ended, and Lisa could see that they were walking toward the Charles River. The walkway turned from concrete to wood, leading to a medium-sized boathouse next to the Charles. “This used to belong to Boston University,” Ben explained. “It housed all the equipment for the crew team. All the schools have them up and down the river: Harvard, MIT, Boston College, Northeastern, they’re all along here somewhere. And when B.U. raised enough money, they abandoned this shack for state-of-the-art headquarters closer to their campus.” As he walked to the edge of the dock, he pointed to his right. “From here, we’ll be able to see the sunset bathe the city in light. And that makes this the best spot in the city. The tour is finished. Tah-dah!” he said, turning around and taking a bow.

Lisa sat down and let her feet dangle off the edge of the dock. “You were right. This place is fantastic.”

“Eric’s older brother found it, and he showed it to us,” Ben said, sitting next to Lisa. “This is where I was when I wrote my college essay to get into Columbia, and it’s where I wrote my essay to get into Yale.”

“We should’ve brought the
Grinnell
decision with us.”

Ben glanced at his watch. “We’ll be able to see the sunset in about twenty minutes.”

“This city gets dark too early. It’s only four-thirty.”

“Wait until the dead of winter,” Ben said. “It’s pitch-black by four-fifteen. By having the country’s earliest sunset, we also get the highest winter suicide rate.”

“Now that’s something to be proud of.” Silent for the next few minutes, they waited for the sun to descend on Boston’s gray horizon. When she saw Ben staring at her, Lisa raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking about kissing me, aren’t you?”

“You wish,” Ben said, drawing back.

“Oh, please,” Lisa said. “You have that fawning look in your eyes.”

“Lisa, I realize I’ve brought you to a magical place, but not all fantasies come true here.”

“Don’t pull that crap with me,” Lisa said, pointing at Ben. “You have the same look you had the night we worked on the death penalty case.”

“That severely-tired-so-my-exhaustion-is-mistaken-for-passion look? I think you’re right—that’s exactly the same look I had then.”

“Forget it,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “You’re right. Let’s just enjoy the sunset.”

Leaning back on his elbows, Ben stared at the golden-orange hue that colored the top of the State House. After a few minutes, he asked, “Do you really think we’ll be able to catch him?”

“I’m not sure,” Lisa said, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I hope we can. He just always seems so prepared for us. Why?”

“Forget I asked.” Ben sat up straight and brushed the dirt and pebbles from his hands. “Just drop it.”

“C’mon, Ben. Is that your answer every time you get upset? Just tell me what you’re thinking. I know you’re scared shitless by this whole thing.”

Ben was silent.

“And you ought to be.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ben finally asked. “Of course I’m scared. My whole professional career is on the line. And at the one point when I’m finally calming down about it, the lowlife calls my house for no purpose except to unnerve me! Let’s see, what else do you want to hear? That I have nightmares about it? That I can’t get it out of my head? That I think I’m way out of my league? Washington is one thing, but it’s different at home.”

“How is it so different?” Lisa asked.

“My parents are here,” Ben said. “That’s it. Period. I don’t want them involved in this.”

“That’s probably why Rick called,” Lisa pointed out. “He knew it’d make you crazy.”

“No? Really?” Ben said sarcastically. “And here I thought he was trying to establish a real friendship between us. After that nice ride in his limo, we have a ton of memories to look back and laugh about.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, taking a deep breath. “Can we please start over?”

“Absolutely,” Lisa said with a small smile. “So tell me; what’d Rick say?”

“He said he just wanted to wish me a happy Thanksgiving. I’m sure it’s his way of saying, ‘Don’t forget what we talked about in the limo.’”

“We really should find him and beat the snot out of him,” Lisa said, dangling her feet off the dock.

“You are so right,” Ben said, leaning back on his hands.

“Y’know, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m an open ear.”

“I appreciate it,” Ben smiled. “Now, can we just enjoy the sunset?”

“Is everyone ready to eat?” Ben’s mother asked at precisely seven the following evening.

“What about Dad?” Ben asked, putting out a pitcher of cold water and two bottles of soda.

“He called a little while ago. Someone slashed his back tires, so he’s stuck at work.”

“Slashed his tires? Is he okay?” Lisa asked.

“Do you want me to pick him up?” Ben asked.

“He’s fine,” Ben’s mother said. “He said the tow truck would be there soon enough.”

As Ben and Lisa took their places around the table, Ben’s mother brought out a huge bowl of Caesar salad. “Pass me your bowls.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Ben’s father stepped inside. “Hi, everyone,” he announced. He kissed everyone before sitting at the head of the table. “Good timing by me.”

“That was quick,” Ben’s mother said.

“You won’t believe what happened,” Ben’s father said, pulling off his tie. “Right after I called the towing company, I went outside to change the first tire. I figured that would save me time when they eventually came. Anyway, as I’m in the middle of putting on my spare, this guy drives up and notices that my other tire is flat. He offers me the spare in his car and even helps me put it on. And then when I offered to pay him, he said he couldn’t take money for it—that it was Thanksgiving and all.”

“What’d this guy look like?” Ben asked, hoping to sound casual.

“Blond hair, kind of preppy. Nothing special.”

Lisa and Ben exchanged a look.

“Did he say anything else?” Ben tried to remain calm.

“Nope,” Ben’s father said, shoveling a mound of Caesar salad onto his plate. “He said he recognized me from my columns. And get this: He knew that you worked at the Supreme Court. He remembered that story Cary wrote about you—when you first got your clerkship.”

As his palms grew slick with perspiration, Ben dropped his fork, which crashed against his plate.

“Are you okay?” Ben’s mother asked.

Ben wiped his hands on his pants, picked up his fork, and quickly pulled himself together. “I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten all day.”

Surprised by the casualness of Ben’s father’s reaction, Lisa asked, “Are your tires slashed often?”

“Every once in a while. Whenever I write a column about corruption in the city government, my tires are slashed, my windows are shattered. That’s the life of a columnist. Too many enemies.”

“So this is probably no big deal,” Lisa said, hoping Ben was listening.

“Not for me,” Ben’s father said proudly.

In no mood to hear Michael’s speech about the life of a columnist, Ben’s mother asked, “Anything else happen at work?”

“Not really,” Ben’s father said. “It was a pretty slow news day. Someone was shot downtown. There’s a new police corruption exposé that’s running tomorrow. And my son got engaged. Other than that, it was quiet.”

“What?” Ben asked, snapping back into reality.

“Didn’t you see today’s paper?” Ben’s father reached into his briefcase and pulled out a section of the newspaper. “It’s on page twenty-seven,” he said, handing it to Ben.

Opening the paper, Ben turned to the metro section. At the top of the first column was a large picture of Lisa. Underneath the picture, it said: “Margaret and Shep Schulman of Los Angeles announced the engagement of their daughter, Lisa Marie, to Benjamin Addison, son of Sheila and Michael Addison of Newton. A March wedding is planned.” Ben yelled, “What the hell is this?”

“Let me see,” Lisa said as she grabbed the paper. “Who would do this?”

“Idiot roommates,” Ben whispered.

“Does this mean you’re not getting married?” Ben’s father asked.

“Oh, this is funny,” Ben’s mother said when Lisa passed her the paper. “Who did it? Ober? Nathan?”

“Who else?” Lisa said.

Ignoring his family’s reaction, Ben couldn’t get Rick out of his thoughts. “Ben, are you okay?” his father asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ben said, turning to his father. Motioning toward the newspaper, he added, “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t have a thing to do with it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ben’s father said. “We like it when we’re completely humiliated. Every self-respecting paper likes to be the victim of a mindless joke every once in a while.”

“You didn’t get in trouble for this, did you?”

“Of course not,” Ben’s father said. “But all day, people were asking me how come I didn’t tell them you were engaged.” As he finished his salad, he continued, “By the way, the president apparently has his short list to fill Blake’s seat on the Court.”

“Who’s on it?” Ben asked, trying to put Rick out of his mind. “Kuttler. Redlich. Who else?”

“Your old friend Judge Stanley is rumored to be on it.”

“It’ll never happen,” Ben said, waving his hand. “That’s the fish he throws to the liberals. I’ll bet a hundred bucks Stanley doesn’t get it.”

“Have you heard any rumors at the Court?” Ben’s father asked.

“Nothing really feeds through there,” Ben explained. “The president’s staff calls some justices for recommendations, but that’s just out of courtesy. Otherwise we hear what you hear.”

“Oh, c’mon now,” Ben’s father said. “You work there. You must hear some rumors. Just this once—feed your dad some inside info.”

“I said I don’t know anything,” Ben insisted. “And don’t put me in that kind of position. Even if I did know something, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Relax,” his father said. “I was only kidding.”

“It was just a joke,” Lisa said.

“Fine,” Ben said, picking at his salad. “It was just a joke. I get it. Har har.”

“Is everything okay at work?” Ben’s mother asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Ben said. “Everything’s wonderful.”

“And what about that firm that’s been recruiting you? Are they still interested?”

“Mom, everything is fine. I’m well on my way to the fast track of the legal world. Nothing can stop me. Now, can we just drop the subject?”

“No. What are you not telling me?” Turning to Lisa, Ben’s mother asked, “What is he not telling me? You can tell me.”

“Mom, leave Lisa alone,” Ben demanded.

“Ben, there’s no reason to raise your voice,” Ben’s father said.

“There is when she won’t mind her own business,” Ben said. “I said drop it.”

“I don’t need that tone at the table,” Ben’s mother said. “Either apologize or leave the room.”

“Leave the room?” Ben asked, forcing a laugh. “Or what? You’ll punish me? Spank me? Maybe you can take away my TV privileges. Or maybe I won’t get a birthday party this year.”

“Benjamin, I’d appreciate it if you’d excuse yourself from the table,” his father said in a low voice.

Ben got up from his seat and stormed upstairs. “I’ll be in my room.”

At eight o’clock, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Ben’s father said, pushing his chair away from the table. He opened the door and said, “Hey, fellas! C’mon in—we just reached dessert.”

“Do I smell cretins?” Lisa asked, sniffing the air as Ober and Nathan approached the table.

“Hello, boys,” Ben’s mother said.

“Hello, Mrs. Addison,” Ober said, fighting back a smile. “I hope you’re all having a lovely Thanksgiving meal.”

“We were,” Lisa said.

“What brings you two over this evening?” Ben’s mother asked.

“We just wanted to say hello. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you or Mr. Addison,” Ober said. “And, of course, we wanted to say congratulations on your son’s engagement.”

“That’s right,” Nathan said, patting Lisa on the back. “This is a big day for you. The best to you both.”

“Very funny,” Lisa said.

“Oh, c’mon,” Nathan said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t find it funny—the big picture of you, the fake bio—it was genius.”

“And it cost us almost a hundred bucks,” Ober said.

“It was definitely funny,” Lisa admitted. “I just hope you don’t think there aren’t going to be repercussions.”

“Take it like a man,” Ober said, squeezing in next to Lisa so that the two friends shared a seat. “Speaking of which, where is the groom-to-be?”

“He’s up in his room pouting,” Ben’s mother explained.

Ten minutes later, Ober, Nathan, and Lisa walked into Ben’s room. “Well, I guess my punishment’s lifted,” Ben said, sitting on his bed. “I have visitor privileges.”

“Drop it already,” Lisa said, flopping onto Ben’s bed. “They just want to know what’s bothering you.”

“And if I want to tell them, I’ll tell them,” Ben shot back.

“Listen, don’t get upset just because your parents are still treating you like a twelve-year-old,” Lisa said. “That’s what parents are supposed to do. It’s their job. They can obviously tell something’s wrong. Besides, you’re kinda behaving like a twelve-year-old.”