Page 110 of Dirty Judge

Sylvia fromThe New York Timeswas sitting in the corner as she promised, but she wasn’t alone like she promised…

There was a guy with a microphone pretending to slurp on a milkshake in the booth to her left, and I was pretty certain that the woman pretending to wipe down nearby tables was one of her staff members as well.

Figures…

I forced a smile and walked over, settling into the seat across from her.

“Well, well, well.” She beamed. “It’s so good to see you!”

I didn’t bother saying, “You too.”

“Want to start with a round of drinks before we talk?”

I noticed her guy not-so-subtly pushing his mic under the table.

“No, I just want to give you what I have and run.” I pulled a folder from my bag and handed it to her. “You have everything you need for a really good long-form exposé.”

“Exactly the type I love to write!” She smiled and opened it. “I can’t wait to…”

Her smile dissolved into a frown as she flipped through the pages.

“Seriously?” She scoffed. “Grant Jenkins, his dad, and their sordid family’s past? This is what you wanted to meet me over?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think you’ll find it very helpful.”

“I won’t. And if I were a lawyer,” she said. “I would sue you for wasting my goddamn time.”

“What are you talking about?” I crossed my arms. “You have the byline of the year right there—a corrupt dad trying to help his corrupt son.”

I felt a pang of guilt at not seeing this about Liam sooner, at jumping to the worst conclusions.

“I wanted a corruptjudge.” She hissed. “More specifically, a corrupt judge who’s rumored to be fucking his senior law clerk.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, honey.” She pursed her lips. “You and him constantly leaving chambers late together. You driving him home every night, picking him up in the mornings. Come on, I’m not dumb.”

“So, you really were stalking me all that time?”

“I was stalking a story.” She shook her head. “The least you could do is give me a quote admitting to it, because?—”

“Yes, I was fucking Judge Ashton.” I cut her off. “Lots of times, all kinds of ways, all kinds of hours.”

Her cheeks reddened.

“It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, and I doubt I’ll ever find someone who can do it any better.” I shrugged. “I also liked him—a lot, and I want him back—a lot, and you’re a fucking idiot if you think a story like that will get you anywhere besides Page Six or the celebrity gossip section.”

She blinked.

“You have one of the wealthiest men in New York buying off officials time after time and getting away with drunk driving like the rest of us get away with parking tickets.”

“And you now have his son—who has the same bad habit—on the verge of getting a new trial with lies, all while knowing this wasn’t his first time hurting someone in a drunken accident.” I paused. “And if he gets out, it won’t be his last.”

“But hey.” I stood up from the table. “You publish whatever you want to publish, and I’ll check on where you are in the food chain a year or so from now, okay?”

I turned to walk away, but she grabbed my hand.

“Wait.” She squeezed it. Hard. “Sit back down, please.”