Page 11 of Dirty Judge

“I left my purse at home, don’t have a way to get a metro card, and sinceyou’rethe reason for all my problems today?—”

“No, you’re the reason for your problems today, Miss Spencer…”

“Fine. I’m guilty of being poor,Your Honor.” She threw up her hands in a mock surrender. “Is that a crime?”

“Not at all.”

“In that case, I would like to request a complimentary loan of twenty dollars,” she said. “I promise to pay you back when I get paid on Friday.”

“Excuse me?”

“I should actually ask forfifty-fivedollars since that would technically cover the cost of an Uber, but I think a long bus ride home would allow me to clear my thoughts.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

My mind had to be playing a wicked game, twisting my inappropriate thoughts from earlier into a fake reality.

But then she held out her hand, and I felt raindrops landing on my skin.

“Miss Spencer…” I tried not to stare too hard at her lips. “You can’t ask the judge who just sentenced you for money.”

“Can I ask him to overturn his ruling, then?”

“No.”

“What if I lower my request to fifteen dollars?”

“I’ll be giving you something else if you don’t walk the hell away from me.”

“Is the ‘something else’ at least five dollars?”

“It’s a call to court security about harassment.”

“After sentencing me to things that are going to make my life even more of a living hell, I think a few dollars is the least you could do, Your Honor…” The way she said ‘Your Honor’ was laced with spite. “The very least.”

“Miss Spencer, I’m not going to ask you to walk away from me again…”

“I used to be an investigative reporter,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t have some skeletons in your closet, ones that you wouldn’t want someone like me digging up out of spite.”

“Are youthreateninga judge, Miss Spencer?” I looked her up and down. “Because that’s a fucking felony...”

Her cheeks flushed red and she let out a small gasp.

“I wasn’t threatening you,” she said, stepping back. “I was just asking for a donation to the less fortunate.”

“I’m going to do you a favor, Miss Spencer.” I glanced down the alley. “I’ll pretend like this moment never happened the moment you walk away—without my donation.”

Her lips parted, and she looked like she was about to say something else, but she slowly walked away.

When she was halfway down the alley, I pulled out my phone and called the chief of security.

“Yes, Judge Ashton?” he answered on the first ring.

“There’s a brunette woman dressed in an olive shirt and jeans heading toward the east side of the courthouse,” I said. “Give her fifty-five dollars, and I’ll pay you back this evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

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