The sun was setting over the Schuylkill Expressway, its remaining red rays reflecting on the cars stopped in front of the Mercedes, their hoods lined up like the humpy shells of box turtles, moving just as slowly. Cate pressed the cell phone to her ear, noticing that all of the drivers around her were yapping away on their phones, too. When did everybody start driving on the cell phone? She never used to, but now she had a better excuse than most. If a cop stopped her, she hoped it wasn’t Russo.
“I’m honored that you would consider calling me, Judge,” Matt was saying, unusually respectful for an old friend. Cate hadn’t kept in touch with many of her former partners, and this was why.
“Of course, Matt. You’re the best.”
“It’s very kind of you to say that, Judge. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you until now. I was actually in court in Wilmington, a jury trial, or I would have called—”
“Matt, do you have to keep calling me ‘Judge’?” Cate hated the new deference in his tone, too. “We’re old partners. Pals. We were even associates together, back in the day.”
“And you became a judge, and all of your former partners like me are thrilled for you, at Beecker.”
“But, Matt, you can still talk to me like it’s me. I’m still me.”
“Sorry, but I’m required to kiss your ass.” Matt chuckled, but Cate didn’t.
“I order you not to.”
“Maybe you should tell me how I can help you. You’re driving and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Cate gave in and told him a sanitized version of the story, leaving out the unidentified-men part. It didn’t help that Matt had her on a pedestal, and he didn’t need to know everything to give her an answer. She wasn’t telling the whole story unless and until she had to, come hell or client confidentiality.
“Judge, you want my opinion, down and dirty?”
“Yes.”
“They’re not liable to you, for their TV show. It’s fictional. If they run the disclaimer, if they change the names and some of the facts, like the way you look and such, it’s not actionable. Like a roman à clef. That’s what we’re talking about, you see? A Jackie Collins book, only not as good.”
Cate fed the car some gas as traffic inched around the bend of the expressway, overlooking Boathouse Row. The decorative white lights that dotted the boathouses began to glow against a blueberry sky, but she avoided the prettiness of the scene and eyed the cars around her for Russo. She didn’t know what kind of car he drove; she’d been too upset to see when he’d left her house. Her bodyguard wasn’t reporting for duty until tomorrow morning, and she had driven with one eye on the rearview all the way from the courthouse, raising multitasking to an art form.
Cate asked, “But what if they show everything about my life, incorporated into the storyline?”
“Like what, Judge?”
Gulp. “Like private things?”
“Private things you do in public? Like what?”
“Where I go, for example. That part’s in public.”
“Then it’s kosher, and why do you care? You don’t go anywhere you’re ashamed of.”
Cate cringed. “Assume I do, Matt. Then what?”
“You?”
“Just assume I do.” Traffic broke up a little, and she cruised forward. The car in back of her was dark, but a woman was driving. And on the cell phone.
“Okay, let me think of a hypo. It’s an interesting legal question, in a way.” Matt’s tone gained a newly serious timbre. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you’re having an affair with a married man. You go to his house to meet. Is that a good hypo?”
“Yes,” Cate said, though she’d never slept with a married man, as far as she knew. Her husband had cheated on her, so she wouldn’t even consider it. Even a slut has principles.
“Let’s say the TV series shows you doing that, right? A judge having an affair with a married man. Something public, but something you wouldn’t necessarily be proud of.”
“Exactly.”
“Lawful.”
Cate winced. She switched lanes to get to open road, feeling safer with fewer cars around her. It was getting darker by the minute.
“Sorry, Judge.”
“Listen, Matt, change the hypo. Forget about me. What about my friend? I have a best friend who has a kid with autism. What if they put her and her son in the TV show?”
“Fair game.”
“Why?” Cate accelerated, trying not to crash into anything as she glanced behind her for Russo.
“It’s not them, it’s characters like them. Women have friends. Kids have autism. As long as it’s not your actual friends, who are private figures, and not a public figure like you, it’s fictional and they can go with it.”
“I’m suing anyway.” Cate hit the gas decisively. “I want a TRO to enjoin production of the show. I want a complaint for defamation, false light, invasion of privacy. The whole nine yards. Right away.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, Judge. You’ll lose.”
“In the end, maybe. In the meantime, I’ll tie them up so badly they’ll wish they were never born.”
“They’ll do the show anyway. There’s money to be made, I’m sure.”
“Maybe they won’t end up making the show, if I sue. If I make it expensive enough, or get them bad enough press, then maybe they’ll go away.”
“Then your affair will become public.”
Cate didn’t disabuse him. “If they do a TV show, it becomes public anyway.”
“It’ll cost you a fortune.”
“I used to make what you do. I’m rich.”
Matt chuckled. “Judge. Look, you’re angry.”
“Very.”
“I understand why you don’t want this to happen, now that you’re on the bench, especially if it’s harming people you love. But did you ever think that filing suit makes a bigger deal of it? Throws oil on the fire?”
Cate had thought about that. She checked the road behind her, which was full of trucks.
“If people didn’t know it was you before, then they will after you file suit. We couldn’t get a seal on those papers. That might make it harder on you, and your friends.”
Cate considered it. She was trying to keep an open mind.
“You still there?”
“I hear you.”
“Do me a favor and sleep on it. If you still want to do it, call me. I’m out in the morning, and in the afternoon.” Matt paused, and she could hear him flipping day-planner pages. “I’m on trial next week, before Judge Meriden.”
I heard. “Obviously, don’t say we spoke.”
“Of course not.”
“He heard me leaving a message for you. He may ask you.” Cate thought of that preppy brat who’d been in the courtroom today. Emily had said she had no idea why he was there.
“I’ll say nothing, of course. So if you still want to do it, then we’ll do it, and again, I’m honored that you called me, Judge. Above all, don’t worry. All of us have something we’d rather not broadcast. Suing over it may not be the best course.”
“Thanks.” Cate pressed END and hit the gas again.
CHAPTER 26
It was dark by the time Cate reached the development, and she drove around Gina’s block a few times, just to make sure Russo wasn’t following her. The town houses, all painted light blue, stood three stories tall and were unusually narrow, stretching from the ground like fingers from a hand. Each town house had a short driveway and a uniformly fake colonial light beside every front door, illuminating a Ford, Dodge, or Honda minivan.
She took a right turn onto Meadowbrook and drove down the street, satisfied she wasn’t being followed. Russo wouldn’t have to trail her to find her here anyway; the record he’d stolen would show that she’d spent every Monday and Thursday here since the surveillance had begun. Still she scanned the parked cars as she drove past, out of an abundance of caution, and she didn’t see anything amiss. She had hesitated about coming here tonight
, but she knew Gina needed the break and wanted to talk to her anyway.
Cate turned the car into Gina’s driveway, parked behind her Pathfinder, then cut the ignition, grabbed her purse and the bag of Chinese takeout. She hoped that between her car and the front door, she would think of a way to tell her best friend in the world that she and her beloved son were about to be fictionalized and beamed into three million homes every Sunday night.
They sat in the warm, cozy kitchen across from each other, two old girlfriends nursing fresh-brewed hazelnut coffee in tall glass mugs. White containers of chicken curry sat open on the tiny table, along with empty plastic tubs of egg drop soup and a bright red foil bag covered with a snaky dragon, which held leftover spare ribs. Warren sat quietly in his high chair, ignoring his cooling pasta and tapping his felt-rimmed mirror on his plastic tray, but his mood was calm enough to permit Cate to tell Gina the whole story, uninterrupted and chronologically, from the break-in of her house to the dismal prospects for the restraining order.
“I am so sorry,” Cate said, after she had finally finished. She eyed her friend for a reaction. Gina sat slumped in the chair, almost sinking into her oversized sweatshirt, a soft old white one that read FT. LAUDERDALE above an embroidered pink-and-yellow sailboat. Her large, round eyes looked a weary brown, their eyeliner smudged off, but her lips curved into her characteristic smile, which made Cate feel even worse. “Gina, I feel awful about this.”
“You shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You didn’t know they were following you.” Gina’s voice was soft.
“If I didn’t run around at night, they wouldn’t have followed me in the first place. I would have been just another judge on the court, too boring to write about.”
“No, they liked you from the pretrial conference, remember? You’re hot, you’re sexy, you’re camera-ready.”
“But I gave them something juicy when they started digging. And now you’re caught up in it, and the baby.” Cate felt her throat thicken, but she didn’t want to cry. “I would be furious if I were you.”
“No, never. Not at you.” Gina managed another smile, but Cate could see wetness come to her eyes, a sad sheen.
“I’m so sorry. You can yell at me, go ahead.”
“No. I admit, I’m not thrilled about it, but I’m not mad at you.” Gina bit her lower lip. “I mean, what’ll they do to me? My character, I mean. Will they make me do dumb things? Or make me look like a bad mother?” Gina’s voice went hoarse, and Cate almost cried.
“Nobody could make you a bad mother. You’re absolutely devoted to Warren, and everybody knows that. You changed your whole life to be with him. You’re a great mother.”
“Not always.” Gina tucked a strand of dark bangs into her paintbrush ponytail. “It’s hard sometimes. I hear moms staying home with normal kids, and I think, they have no idea how easy they have it. It’s a long day with him, a really long day.”
“I know, and that’s why they can’t make you look bad. Besides, you have to remember, it’s not you. People will know that. We’ll tell people that. Your friends, his teachers, everybody.”
“What if they make me into some sort of saint, because the baby has autism? I’d hate that, too. That’s just another way of putting him down.” Gina checked on Warren, her gaze shifting to the high chair and back again. “Because he’s not so hard, really, and you know, I mean, I love him. And he’s a gift, a gift. I know that now. You know that, too, Cate.”
“Of course, I do, I know that—”
“I just don’t want them to make the baby look bad.” Gina kept biting her lip. “I’d hate it if they, you know, made him look really…severe. Because he’s not.”
“Gina—”
“I mean, I know that it’s politically incorrect to say, but he isn’t so bad and he never arm-flaps and I think he’d be one of the higher functioning kids next year…” Gina’s sentence trailed off. “It’s just that he already gets teased so much, you know. I don’t want it to get worse.”
Cate understood. Retard. Tard. Dummy. Stupid. She’d witnessed it.
“Like today, we went to the pool at the Y and there was another kid, about four, and he wanted to play with him, and he kept yelling at him, but Warren wouldn’t look at him, and the kid yelled, ‘What are you, deaf?’” Gina tossed her head, as if to shake it off. “I remember when that was his diagnosis, don’t you? When I hoped that he was deaf. That would have been easy.”
“Yes.” Cate reached across the table and covered her friend’s hand, the physical connection making palpable the pain. “I am so very sorry.”
“Did you ever think that this was meant to happen?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“But maybe it was. Like Dr. Phil says.”
“Gina, now with the Dr. Phil?” Cate managed a weak smile.
“But it’s true. You had a secret. You were running around, and nobody knew it, not even me. Now it’s about to come out.” Gina shifted forward. “The running around isn’t the secret, Cate. It’s just the behavior. What’s your secret?”
“I don’t know, it’s a secret.” Cate chuckled, but Gina didn’t.
“Think about it. Maybe you’re supposed to figure it out, maybe this is how. Everybody has a secret.”
“You don’t.”
“I do, too.”
“What?” Cate shot back, and the kitchen grew so quiet she thought Gina had stopped breathing. “You never told me any secret.”
“I know.” Gina swallowed visibly. “It’s not the kind of secret you ever tell.”
“What?” Cate asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Sometimes, when I got stressed out, before he was diagnosed, I hit the baby.”
Cate blinked, shocked.
“I did that. Not often, but sometimes. I hit his butt. I don’t know if he felt it through the diaper—” Gina stopped her sentence, then sat straighter. “That’s a lie, I know he did. He felt it, because he cried.” Gina’s dark eyes filled. “But that wasn’t even the secret I figured out.”
Cate officially didn’t want to know the secret.
“The secret was that I wished he had never been born.”
Cate’s eyes widened. She felt it herself. Her eyes literally opened.
“See? I taught myself that. I used to dream about that, if he had never been born. That was my dream. I would still be married to Mike, I’d still be a successful lawyer. I’d have nice clothes and a place to wear them. I’d have a normal kid and he’d play lacrosse and go to Harvard, which would bankrupt me, and I still wouldn’t mind. I’d live my dream.”
Cate thought about it. Gina. Russo had a dream, and Marz.
“I hear all those people bitch about their college bills, and I want to say, do you know how lucky you are? Do you have any idea?” Gina leaned forward in her chair, her tone turning angry. “And then they do a show like Desperate Housewives, and I watch every week and think, you should come to my house, pal. You should come here.”
Cate didn’t know what to say, and Gina eased back in her chair.
“And after a while, my dream changed,” she said, her tone calmer. “I was happy he was born. I understood why.”
“What’s your dream now?”
Gina thought a minute, and smiled. “My dream is that someday, he’ll say, ‘I love you, Mommy.’”
“He will.” Cate squeezed her hand, but Gina withdrew it and reached for her napkin.
“Wow, I never said that out loud.”
“Friggin’ Dr. Phil.”
Gina laughed.
“I’m confiscating your TV.”
Gina wiped her eyes, recovering. “So. Maybe you’re meant to do the same thing, Cate. To know the secret.”
“The secret I keep from myself?” Cate made woo-woo fingers in the air.
“Go ahead. Make fun.”
“I have a better idea. Instead of figuring out my secret, I’ll sue the bastards. I don
’t want a TV show about me, you, or Warren. We don’t need that, and I have the dough to fight it. I’ll send Sorian to wage World War III. Beecker has the firepower to do it.”
“Cate, I don’t know if you should sue.”
“Why? I want to. I have the money. I’m not sure I’ll lose because I don’t think it’ll get to the merits. I’ll make them give it up. I want to take a shot.”
“But you have to think about it, don’t just react.”
“When somebody hits you, you gotta hit back.” Cate heard her mother in her own voice.
“But then all you have is a fistfight,” Gina said, frowning like she used to when she practiced law, and Cate could see she was her old self, analyzing a legal problem. “You’ll never get the TRO, and they could counterclaim, so there’s that risk. They have tons of dough, way more than you. As a practical matter, it could make things worse for me and Warren.”
“Why?”
“Right now, nobody knows me or the baby. If you sue, making a big deal out of it, then they will.” Gina nodded, thinking aloud. “You’ll get the heat. I mean, I can imagine there’ll be newspaper articles once the series comes out, linking you as the judge in the case. But I don’t think the press will be as interested in us, unless you sue.”
“You think?” Cate recalled that Matt had said roughly the same thing, but she remained unconvinced.
“I mean, I know why you don’t want a show about your life, and I know why you’d sue to stop it. But what’s right for you might be wrong for Warren and me. You can take the heat, but can he?” Gina’s expression was stricken, and they both knew the answer. “I mean, I guess I’d be asking you to sacrifice your interests to his.”
Cate felt torn, but knew how that would have to come out.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to decide now, do you? Sorian said to sleep on it, so maybe you should.”
“You telling me to listen to my lawyer?”
“The phone call probably cost you a grand.” Gina leaned forward again, shifting conversational gears. “You know, the show’s not what I’m worrying about. I’m worrying about that crazy detective. I wish you had your bodyguard tonight.”
“I know. I almost didn’t come.”