“Your soul for a car. How tainted you’ve become.”
“Trust me, you’ll be right behind me. Guar-an-teed!”
“First of all, I won’t be right behind you, because there’s no amount of money in the world that can get me to live in Los Angeles. I heard that when you enter the city, the toll booths there accept dimes, nickels, quarters, and your integrity. Second of all, even if I do go to a firm, I’ll be going for ten thousand dollars more than you will.”
“You will not,” Lisa said.
“I will too.”
“Will not.”
“Okay,” Ben said, putting his hands behind his head. “Then I guess they didn’t just promise me an extra ten grand as a bonus for being a Supreme Court clerk.”
“Are you kidding me? You get ten grand more for working here? That’s bullshit. I have to get my firm on the line. I want more money. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll convince them I’m a bleeding heart who wants to save the world.”
Laughing, Ben said, “Let me ask you a question: Can we be more disgusting at this particular moment? Wait, do we have any death penalty cases coming up this week? Maybe we can kill someone for being poor.”
“You really have the worst liberal guilt I’ve ever seen,” Lisa said. “We’re going to be wealthy. Big deal. We worked hard to get where we are.”
“I know,” Ben said, “but we had so many advantages…”
“…that other kids never had. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lisa said, playing an imaginary violin. “Listen, I don’t know what suburb you grew up in, but I grew up in a normal middle-class family. During bad years, we were lower middle class. I went to public school and no one cut the crusts off my Wonder Bread. How much class can my parents have-they met at Graceland, and they still tell people about it.”
“Y’know, there are two kinds of people in life,” Ben said, sitting up. “Those who cut the crust off their bread and those who-”
The ringing of Lisa’s phone cut off Ben’s sentence. “Hold on a second, I think that’s my pimp. He’s selling all of my intellectual skills to the highest bidder.” Picking up the receiver, she said, “Hello, Justice Hollis’s chambers.” After a second she grinned and mouthed the words “Washington Post.” Then she pulled out her press sheet. “I appreciate your concern on this matter, but as a clerk of the Supreme Court of the United States, I am not permitted to reveal any information to the press.” Lisa hung up the phone and sat back in her chair. “Are you happy now? I’m a suspect with you.”
“Yeah, but you were always a suspect. Your whole family is a bunch of shady thieves.”
“I resent you using the word ‘thieves.’ We prefer the word ‘scoundrels.’” Walking to the door, she continued, “I’m going to give Hollis our Oshinsky opinion. Hopefully, he’ll approve it by the end of today.”
“Good luck,” he said as Lisa left the room. Ben picked up the phone and dialed Nathan’s number.
“The Administrator’s Office,” Nathan said.
“Is that how you answer the phone? No wonder our government’s a bureaucratic mess.”
“Did you just get back from lunch with the castrating lawyers?” Nathan asked.
“You got it.”
“I knew there had to be a reason you were so excited. What did they try to buy you with this time?”
“An extra ten grand.”
“Are you serious? I was joking. Man, I’m in the wrong profession.”
“No, no. You have it much better off. Sitting around and thinking about social problems is probably the best way to solve them. And don’t forget, you beat me by a hundred points on the SAT, which, now that I think of it, is the square root of ten thousand.”
“Rot in Hades, capitalist sloth.”
“Listen, I meant to ask you, have you gotten all the stuff we need for Saturday?”
“I’m on it,” Nathan said. “Rick won’t know what to do when we’re done with him.”
“Is the plan done?”
“It’s pretty much the same as we first discussed.”
“I guess we’re set then,” Ben said. “We should probably meet tomorrow night just to do a run-through.”
“That’s fine. By the way, I’ll assume you haven’t spoken to Eric yet?”
“Nope. We’re meeting tonight at eight to have it out.”
“Ben, do me a favor. Go easy on him.”
“I’m fine. I’m completely calm.”
“Yeah, but did you hear what I said? Go easy on him. He’s still your friend.”
“Listen, I have to go,” Ben said, stretching. “I have to work on these opinions.” Hanging up the phone, Ben pulled his chair up to his desk. He opened the brown folder marked “Russell decision” and pulled out his first draft. Staring at the pages, he wondered if Osterman’s clerks really swayed opinions to their own agenda. No way, he thought. That story has urban myth written all over it. Lisa’s phone rang. He reached across the desk and picked it up. “Hello, Justice Hollis’s chambers.”
“Hi, I’m looking for a Lisa Schulman. Do I have the right extension?”
“You do.” Ben pulled the phone toward his own desk. “She just stepped out for a minute. Can I take a message?”
“Can you tell her Diana Martin of The Washington Post called her, and if she could give me a call back that’d be great.”
Puzzled, Ben said, “I guess she has your number?”
“No, no. She doesn’t even know me. Let me give it to you.”
After writing down the number, Ben hung up the phone and sat back in his chair. For the next half hour, he stared at the pages of the Russell decision.
At three o’clock, Lisa returned to the office. “We’re done,” she sang as she entered the room, throwing a manila file folder on her desk. “He loved it! Oshinsky is O’history!” Taking one look at Ben, she asked, “What?”
“I have a message to give you. Diana Martin of The Washington Post called. She wants you to call her.”
“Ben, I can expl-”
“Don’t bother,” he said, throwing Diana’s number on her desk. “I won’t believe it.”
“Ben, don’t be so damn stubborn.”
“Why not? All my other friends picked today to dick me over. Why can’t I be a little bit stubborn? In fact, I think I’m entitled to be a full-fledged jerk today.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job of that. And let me ask you a question: Why were you even answering my line?”
“Don’t even think of turning this one around,” he said, jumping from his seat. “Your phone rang; I picked it up. Period. What’s your excuse?”
Lisa looked at her feet. “I was worried that you would be crazy if I didn’t get a phone call from the Post, so I had a friend of mine make that first call to me and I pretended it was the reporter. I was trying to make you feel better.”
Ben fell silent. “You really did that for me?”
“I did it because I pity you,” she said with a smile.
“That’s not a bad excuse.”
“C’mon, you can’t be mad.”
“You’re lucky this time,” he said, pointing at Lisa. “Next time you try to be nice, I’m gonna really get pissed.”
At seven-thirty, Ben packed up his briefcase and left the office. Walking downstairs, he thought about his forthcoming confrontation with Eric. If he has no explanation, he’s dead, Ben thought as he swiped his card through the security door on the first floor. Even if he has an explanation, he’s dead. As he passed the marble statues in the Great Hall, Ben heard the security guard at the front entrance mumble something into his walkie-talkie. When the guard got out of his seat, Ben wondered what was wrong. Slowly, he approached the entrance. The guard looked at his clipboard. At the last second, Ben decided to turn around. Heading back the way he came, he swiped his card through the security door he had just left, reentering the north wing of the Court. He hurried toward the unmanned side door that exited to the north side of the building. As he approached the door, he heard the echo of footsteps behind him. Only the guilty run, he thought, remembering the advice from his criminal law professor. As he approached the exit, he once again prepared to swipe his I.D. card. Forcing it though the machine that would let him reach the exit, he was surprised when he didn’t hear the usual click of access. Again he tried the card. Nothing.