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The interview was conducted quicker than I’d expected with much less interjection from the defense than I’d expected, which led me to believe that the defense thought his client was a scum bag too.
The whirlwind was over almost before it began, and Deuce was leading Jeff away from Judge Hawthorne’s office while I tried to keep my jaw off the floor.
Defense scuttled behind them, probably ready to cut his losses and move on to a more lucrative client.
“You did good with this one,” Judge Hawthorne said, his words snapping my attention back to present.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, snagging the briefcase I’d never even had to open from the floor.
The judge nodded toward the door of his office, “Be good to get that boy involved with the club. Give him some masculine direction that’s not full of shit.”
I’d always known Judge Hawthorne to be a straight shooter, but this was exceptional, even for him.
“I think Gate is planning to have the brothers include Jeff’s house on their security route,” I said.
The judge nodded and stroked his chin, “Gate’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, not having the first clue where this conversation was headed. It was also news to me that the judge knew Gate well enough to make an observation one way or the other.
Judge Hawthorne leaned forward in his chair, “No secret you two have a history.”
“We do have children together, yes,” I said, heart starting to pound out of my chest.
“Also no secret that when he’s around, you stop to take in the view, and I’m sure he does the same.”
“Well, sir….” I stammered, stepping toward the door, angling to make my escape.
The judge waved a dismissive hand, “I know everything that goes on in this building.”
Oh, shit.
“And a lot of what goes on outside of it,” he went on.
Oh, God.
“And I know that what you’ve got for yourlife partner,” he threw air quotes around that, “is nothing compared what you’ve got for the man sitting in my courtroom wearing a leather cut.”
My brows nearly hit my hairline. “Is this conversation really appropriate, sir?” I asked.
“You had a father,” Judge Hawthorne went on like I hadn’t said a word. “Now you don’t. So I’m stepping in.”
Nope. Not appropriate at all.
But I dropped my butt right back into the chair I’d just left.
Gate had been my rock, until he wasn’t, and while my father and I’d had a relationship that could be called complicated at best, since he’d passed away three years ago, I’d been winging life and mostly sucking at it. My mother tended to drink her way through it, probably her coping mechanism of choice for dealing with my father, and I was trying like hell not to end up like her.
For the past fifteen years, I’d painted myself into a corner that I didn’t know how to get out of, so I just stayed there. I hated it but didn’t know what to do about it that wouldn’t make things worse.
So in spite of the divide between the judge’s position and mine, I decided to listen.
The judge watched me sit and nodded in approval, “Glad you’re giving the voice of reason a chance.”
I blew out a breath, “At this point, I don’t really have anything to lose.”
The judge grinned, “And from the looks of things, you’ve got a whole lot to gain.”
I shrugged, “Maybe, but I don’t see how.”
