Dirty Blonde

CHAPTER 25

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.