tile, noting the pattern of yellow staining on it, then silently begged, Please don’t let that start again. But it already had—little voices, little gestures, more little voices—all things that happened, or didn’t happen, only when she was around Mike.
Twelve yellowed ceiling tiles later, without a solution to the thing she grudgingly called the thing, Lilly wrenched her attention back to Mike’s case. He was sooo cool…sooo calculated…sooo relaxed about it. Working her. That’s what he was doing. Working her, and she had to give credit where it was due. He did it brilliantly. The way he shoved his hands into his khakis—as though this was a casual meeting between two friends, not a court of law…her court of law. Smiling, grinning, winking…or not. It irritated her. He irritated her, and the only transient panacea was an effigy of Mike swinging a pickax on a rock pile. Good image; she liked it a lot. Suddenly he was shirtless and glistening with sweat—like she needed that distraction. So she made a hasty retreat back to Mike’s iceberg, since in a parka he wasn’t nearly so dangerous. Then…oh, no, not that! The parka was slipping off. Zipper sliding down, sleeve slithering off, and underneath…
Mike cleared his throat. “I said I rest my case, Your Honor.”
He didn’t have anything on under that parka, but thank the gods of the Northern ice cap that his voice dragged her back into the courtroom. “Good old-fashioned political harassment, is that what you said, Mr. Collier? A parking conspiracy? Are you sure you want that particular accusation to go down on the record with your name attached to it? I mean, I know you’ve spent your career chasing down so-called conspiracies, but this seems rather melodramatic even for you, don’t you think?”
“For the record, Your Honor, I shouldn’t have to suffer the unfair, and I might add unjust, consequences of the mayor’s cousin’s inability to attract customers. Nor should I be forced to pay the penalty you’re imposing on me for using one lousy parking space that’s rightfully mine to begin with.”
“Then I’d suggest you take it up with the city, Mr. Collier. My only job is to hear your case—the one about nineteen unpaid parking tickets—and render a guilty verdict…if you’re guilty,” she added hastily. “Which apparently you are, since you’ve admitted to your crime.”
“Crime?” Forgetting the yellow line, Mike crossed over it and started to amble toward her desk. One step, two steps. Taunting…taunting. “Come on, Lilly. Give me a break here.” Three steps, four. Taunting…taunting. “Don’t let a couple of tickets…” Five steps, six steps. Taunting…tempting, er, taunting.
Lilly banged the gavel so hard on its wooden block it woke the old man snoozing in the back corner of the room, who jolted up out of his seat bug-eyed and sputtering, “I didn’t do it!” Then, seeing that it wasn’t his turn in front of the judge, he sank back into his chair and shut his eyes to try and catch the remains of his nap.
“Get back, Mr. Collier,” Lilly ordered, pointing to the line. She watched him take a good, hard look at his thirty-six-inch encroachment into the wrong side of “authorized” turf, then dig his heels in, so to speak. That little act of Michael Collier defiance made her want to dig a little something into him—maybe her heels, maybe a nice sharp jail sentence. “And add another two hundred dollars to the court’s tab while you’re at it,” she stated, raising her eyebrows in distinct nonchalance even though they didn’t show above the black rims of her oversize glasses.
But Mike didn’t budge. Didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. None of that. He simply reached deep into his bag of play-acting pretexts, the ones she’d seen him use so many times before, and came up with a colorful palette of supplication and woe. “Fair’s fair, Your Honor, and what the city’s doing to me isn’t fair. I’m just a hardworking businessman trying to run my business. I’m not asking for special favors or unjustified consideration here—just what’s mine…my right to park in my parking spot. That’s all.” He twisted around, playing to the crowd. “How would these good folk like to go to work one day and find a No Parking sign at their place of employment? Or better yet, in their driveway when they get home? It’s the same thing, Your Honor. I work there, I live there. I just can’t park there.”
As if on cue, a low rumble of agreement ran through the crowd. Solidarity with the masses. He’d claimed the public support, something he was so good at, Lilly recalled. Then he turned back to her, still supplicating and woeful, but with a smidge of martyred-for-the-cause now plastered on his face, and continued, “I’m a busy man, Judge. Making me run half way through town to get my car is a travesty of justice.” Then the cool, calculated grin sneaked back as a nod of agreement rippled through the crowd like the wave at a football game. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
Was he baiting her? she wondered. If anyone knew how to bait, it was Mike Collier. Or maybe he thought she’d simply throw this case out on account of their sleeping together a time or two or ten had earned him the special privileges he claimed he didn’t want. But boy, was he wrong about that one. If anything, her big ol’ blunder in judgment way back when earned him the judge’s fullest contempt. “I said get back, Mr. Collier,” she repeated, still trying to sound professional, not reactionary—which she was, right down to her phalanges, when it came to all matters with Mike Collier. Had been for years, and nothing, not even having him in her courtroom, was going to change that. But he wasn’t going to see it. Neither was the crowd. Amazing what the black robe hid. And didn’t hide, she thought, glaring at him.
“You know it isn’t fair, Your Honor,” Mike continued, unfazed by her warning. “And I’m betting you’d be pretty angry if they took away your parking spot and you had to walk a block to get to work.”
Actually, she did walk a block to work because there were no parking spots left in the municipal lot. The janitors had spots, the cafeteria attendants had spots, but not the traffic court judge, and she was obliged to pay that sixty bucks a month Mike didn’t want to pay, and park in the very same public parking lot Mike was complaining about. “Get back,” she exclaimed, banging her gavel again. “This is the last time I’m warning you, sir. Stand back or face the consequences.” Well, maybe not a cold, hard iceberg, but a big chunk of cold, hard cash.
Mike did quit speaking in that instant, but he held his ground. Folding his arms resolutely across his chest, he stayed on Lilly’s side of the yellow line, still smiling at her. And she knew that smile. Oh, how she knew that smile. It was a cross between something downright pigheaded and a testy I double-dare you. And she’d been on the receiving end of it more than once—never emerging a victor from the war, though. Of course, that was then, and this was today. And today was beginning to feel so good all of a sudden. In fact, this might just turn out to be the best day she’d had in any Mike Collier dealings outside the bedroom…the garage…that one time on the roof.…
Suddenly, the smile was all Lilly’s. “And as of right now, your tally comes to $1,350, Mr. Collier. Payable by cash, check or money order to the court clerk on your way out the door.”
Mike leveled his sparkling blue eyes on Lilly’s jade-greens and shook his head. “Like I said before, it’s a matter of principle, Your Honor. I’m the one who’s been wronged here. Besides, I’m broke. Couldn’t pay the fine even if I wanted to, which I don’t.” To prove his point, he turned his front pants pockets inside out, then shrugged. “See? Nothing there. Not even enough money to plug the meter outside, which means you’ll probably be adding another parking ticket to the official complaint, and I can’t afford to pay that one, either.”
And you think this is a game. Well, Mike, Lilly’s not the same old Lilly you used to know and she’s not backing down. “I’m only the judge here, Mr. Collier. Sworn to do my duty and uphold the law. And I find that you’re guilty of breaking the no-parking law—nineteen times. If you want to challenge that law, then be my guest. Challenge away. But
