I wish I could help her. She reminds me of a kicker lining up to make a last second field goal kick from the fifty-yard-line to win the game. No one talks to the kickers before these stress-filled moments, and I won’t bug her now.
I do the same thing, though, as I do with those kickers. I send her all the waves of positivity I can. Hammer nudges me and makes a tiny kicking motion with his finger. Yeah, we’re all on the same page here.
“You may proceed, counsel,” Judge Cain orders when we’re all situated in our places.
Luce takes a deep breath and then rises. She walks calmly to the middle of the room, thanks everyone and then turns to the jury. There’s a long moment of silence. A long one. An uncomfortable one. One that makes me wonder if I should jump the railing, pick her up, and carry her away from here.
You can do it, Goldie. I know you can.
She takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, “There’s an old Jewish tradition…”
A collective whoosh fills the room as all of us in the back and maybe some at the counsel table release their breaths. Luce’s voice, quiet at first, grows in volume with each word. We’re all spellbound and after she’s done, I can’t help but release a whistle.
Which was stupid because everyone starts cheering then. Luce ducks her head into her chin and scurries to her chair. Judge Cain bangs her gavel several times until we stop rioting in the back.
“Your honor, we need a sidebar,” says one of the guys clad in blue suits on the other team.
A sidebar is apparently when the lawyers gather by the judge and whisper things. The acoustics in the room are such that we can hear them pretty well.
“That display is completely inappropriate, Judge Cain,” hisses the suit. “Western should be penalized.”
Luce objects immediately. “I have no control over that. It would be completely unfair to penalize us for something the audience did.”
I share a shamefaced look with Hammer. Shit, it never occurred to me that cheering would result in Luce losing this match. I feel kinda sick.
“I’m not penalizing Western for the crowd’s antics because the jury doesn’t decide who wins this case, we do.” Judge Cain points to the two people sitting beside her. “And I’m sure you don’t believe we’ll be influenced by any clapping, do you?” Disdain drips from her voice. She’s unimpressed by the dude’s complaining.
“No, ma’am.” Blue Suit looks at his shoes.
“Then let’s finish closing arguments, shall we?”
I hold out my hand and Hammer slaps it as we celebrate our girl not getting penalized. Our happiness is short-lived when Judge Cain addresses the room. “As I stated before, there is no clapping or cheering that is permitted during the match. Another outburst will result in a two-minute penalty to Western.”
Luce walks back to the counsel table, glaring at us.
I don’t even dare make the zipped-lip gesture. Pissy Blue Suit stands up and makes a very passionate argument about personal responsibility that seems to have the judges’ attention. They’re nodding. Hell, even the jury is nodding. I think he sounds like a cat in heat, with his high-pitched demands for the jury to make Luce’s client accept responsibility for her own poor decisions. At the end, he pounds on the railing separating the jury and him, telling them he knows they’ll make the right decision.
One of the jurors makes a few clapping noises until she catches wind of Judge Cain’s frown. Heather and Randall exchange a worried glance while Luce is scribbling something furiously on her notepad.
“Do you have rebuttal, counsel,” Judge Cain intones.
This time there’s no hesitation. Luce jumps up. “Yes, your honor.” She strides confidently up to the middle of the room, turns to face the jury and says in a chilly tone, “When you have the facts on your side, you pound on the facts. When you have the law on your side, you pound on the law. When you have neither….” She pauses dramatically. Everyone looks at the opposing side, who’s glaring so hard at Luce right now it makes me want to laugh. Everyone but Luce looks at him, that is. She’s still staring at the jury. Softly, because she doesn’t need volume when every person in the room is hanging on her words, she repeats, “And when you have neither, you pound on the bench.”
Luce dips her head, turns around, then walks right back to the table and sits down.
It kills not being able to clap at that. Fucking kills.
* * *
Judge Cain let us clap after they announced Luce’s team the winner.
“You were amazing,” I crow when she finally breaks free from everyone who wants to hug and congratulate her. Even Ace came forward. They gave each other an awkward hug, and I didn’t even feel like bashing Ace’s teeth in for touching her. I feel so evolved.
“Thank you!” She hugs me tight, her face pressed into the side of my chest. “I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”
Her uncharacteristic boasting pulls a startled laugh out of me. That’s my girl. “Best ever,” I agree.
“Come on.” She lets go of my waist but grabs my hand.
I follow willingly. While we both know I’d follow her anywhere, I ask, “Where we going?”
“I need a victory kiss.”