The Tenth Justice Read Free

house.”
    “So where do you fall politically?”
    “I guess I’m somewhere between moderate and liberal,” Ben said, drawing an imaginary line with his hands. “I’m the product of a bipartisan marriage.”
    “Any girlfriends?”
    “No, I think my dad’s pretty much narrowed it down to my mom.”
    “Funny.”
    “I live with my three best friends from high school.”
    “You ever been in love?”
    “You ever been called intrusive?”
    “Just answer the question,” Lisa said.
    “Only once, though I’m not sure I can call it love. After law school, I took a two-month trip around the world—Europe and Asia, Bangkok and Bali, Spain and Switzerland, everything I could see.”
    “I take it you like to travel.”
    “Very much. Anyway, in Spain, I met this woman named Jacqueline Ambrosio.”
    “How exotic. Was she a native?”
    “Nope. She was a marketing consultant from Rhode Island. She was starting her travels in Spain, and I was at the end of my trip. We met in Salamanca, took a weekend trip to that beautiful little island, Majorca, and parted ways five days after we met.”
    “Please, you’re breaking my heart,” Lisa moaned. “And let me guess, you lost her address, could never find her again, and to this day, your heart aches for her.”
    “Actually, on my last day there, she told me she was married, and that she’d had a great time revisiting the single life. Apparently, her husband was flying in the next day.”
    Lisa paused a moment, then asked, “Is that story bullshit?”
    “Not a bit.”
    “Wasn’t she wearing a wedding ring?”
    “Not when we were together.”
    “Well, then, it’s a good story. But it definitely wasn’t love.”
    “I never said it was,” Ben said with a smile. “How about you? What’s your story? Just the juicy stuff.”
    Lisa swung her feet up onto the red sofa. “I’m from Los Angeles, and I hate it there. I think it’s the toilet of the great Western restroom. I went to Stanford undergrad and Stanford Law only because I enjoy being near my family.”
    “Boorrrrrrrring!” Ben sang.
    “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. My dad is originally from L.A.; my mom’s from Memphis. They met, and I swear this is true, at an Elvis convention in Las Vegas. They collect Elvis everything—plates, towels, napkin holders, we even have an Elvis Pez dispenser.”
    “They have Elvis Pez heads?”
    “Some lunatic collector in Alabama put sideburns on a Fred Flintstone Pez, filed down the nose, and painted on sunglasses. My parents went nuts and paid two hundred bucks for it. Don’t ask; they’re total freaks.”
    “I don’t suppose your middle name is…”
    “You got it. Lisa Marie Schulman.”
    “That’s fantastic,” Ben said, impressed. “I’ve always wanted to scar my kids with a really funny name, like Thor or Ira.”
    “I highly recommend it. Being taunted throughout childhood is great for your self-esteem.”
    “Let me ask you this,” Ben said. “Do you twirl spaghetti?”
    Lisa raised one eyebrow, confused.
    “I think there are two kinds of people in this world,” Ben explained, “people who twirl spaghetti on their fork to make manageable bites, and those who slurp it up, getting it all over themselves. Which are you?”
    “I slurp,” Lisa said with a smile. “And when I was little, I didn’t eat anything white, so my mom had to dye my milk and my eggs with food coloring.”
    “What?” Ben asked, laughing.
    “I’m serious. I used to hate the color white, so she used to make my milk purple and my eggs red. It was tons of fun.”
    “You used to cut the hair off your Barbie dolls, didn’t you?”
    “As soon as I pulled them out of the box,” Lisa said proudly. “The little bitches asked for it.”
    “Oh, I can see it now,” Ben laughed. “We’re gonna get along great.”
    After a ten-minute Metro ride to Dupont Circle, Ben climbed one of Washington’s many oversized escalators and headed home. A block from the subway, he spotted