“I think that’s just so, um, wonderful. Sending someone, um, to the Supreme Court from here would be great. I don’t know the last time a justice came from the third. They always pick them, um, from the DC circuit or, um, the ninth. Not to mention the fact that I think it’s great they’ll fill the vacant seat with another woman,” Kate cooed. She looked like one of those naive horror-flick victims moments before they’re bludgeoned to death.

“Oh good God! We’re finished!” I yelped. “Listen, you guys. I don’t mean to sound jealous, because I assure you, I’m not. The last thing I’d want is for Judge Friedman to get picked for anything, especially the Supreme Court. It’s just that . . . It’s just that . . .” The proper words escaped me. They found Matthew.

“It’s just that she hates Judge Adams more than she hates us. More than she hates Janet, her secretary. More than she hates herself, even. This is going to destroy her. As a result, this is going to destroy us.” We had the captive audience now.

Betsy couldn’t restrain herself. “Really? Your judge hates our judge? That’s fucking awesome! Soooo high school!” she exclaimed giddily.

“It is pretty funny, you have to admit,” Walt chimed in. They weren’t getting it. Nobody got it, least of all Evan, who, rather than being scared, was jealous.

“I mean, what are the chances that Adams will even get picked off a short list?” Evan asked, short of breath. “I also heard that Beckmeyer from the fourth and Mendes from the first were on the short list. Then there’s her abortion stance—which I wholly respect, for the record. That’s going to give her trouble in Congress. And I think Shepard is going to be a huge problem.”

“Well, I think it’s wonderful, no matter what you all say,” Kate stated clearly, head held up high. The check arrived, we paid, and I managed to slip in one final question for Betsy.

“So, do other judges know?”

“Only Fleck. He called Adams shortly after Specter did. I guess Specter had called him, being the chief judge and all. And he and Adams are super tight. He’s fuckin’ thrilled. This would be really good for the circuit, actually. Not to mention for us. People will think we clerked for a fucking Supreme Court justice!” For some reason, when Betsy used the word fuck or a derivative thereof, it was cute rather than crass. Impressive, considering she used it with the kind of frequency most people reserved for prepositions.

“Great, your happiness is our hell,” I replied. The four of us then headed back to the chambers, carting a mix of pride, misery, and jealousy.

We opened the main door to Metallica.

“MATTTTTTTHEWWWWW!!!! SHEEEERRRRAAAA!!”

Good God! Was she dying? Matthew and I sped off.