“Well, it couldn’t be worse than not going to this clerk camp thing,” James offered, and I nodded in agreement. Our would-be friend smiled.

“Hey. I’m Kevin. I didn’t go to clerk camp. I did go to Rutgers.”

The 12-step plan for Clerks Coming Clean.

“Hi. I’m Sheila. I didn’t go to clerk camp. I did go to Columbia.”

“I’m James and ditto as to the rest of what Sheila said.” James bought the three of us another round. Kevin was our new best friend. Upon closer inspection, he was also gay, which was my evening’s first victory. What kind of self-respecting woman could live in the gayborhood without a gay sidekick? Not to mention, the years had taught me that unless you got fat and/or unfashionable, your gay male friends would stand by you, whereas boyfriends always left you in the lurch.

Kevin had a boyfriend (“but we can see other people”), had gone to Chapel Hill undergrad (“but only because I was in state”), then moved to New York and tried modeling (“but only because I didn’t know what to do”), before finally heading to Rutgers Law (“but only because they gave me money”). The only thing separating a man with compulsive caveats from one with suicidal tendencies was a healthy ego. And Kevin clearly had one of those, as evidenced by his two-year attempted modeling stint (Kevin did not look like a model).

Kevin lived near James and me. He moved there because it was the gayborhood. I moved there because it was cheap and cute. James moved there because he was lazy and I found him a place. We were a natural trio. So much so that we didn’t even broach the subject of our particular judges until two drinks later. As it turned out, Kevin was clerking for Judge Adams.

“Yeah, Adams is pretty cool from what I can tell so far, but holy shit—my coclerk Jana is terrible. On our first day, she sauntered over to me and said, and I quote, ‘I was on the Virginia Law Review, so if you need help—you know—with anything, just ask. You know, I don’t know about Rutgers’”—Kevin imitated—“I mean, Virginia, big fuckin’ deal. You know, it’s not like she went to Stanford. Puh-leez!” I loved it. Even as he complained about the hierarchy, he reinforced it.

“Well, at least Jana didn’t quit already. My coclerk just quit. She left a hate letter for my judge.” Admittedly it was a desperate attempt to one-up Kevin. It worked.

“What?! I didn’t know people quit clerkships! Are you for real!” Kevin looked genuinely shocked. But I was beginning to think he always looked that way. “But I have to say, I have heard that Friedman can be pretty bitchy.”

Before I could respond, a twiggy brunette, who appeared to have jacked the Banana Republic next door, came over.