They both laughed. Richie Dear—his God-given last name—was bottle blond, about a foot shorter than John and always a little bit disheveled. His files often found themselves in messy piles on John’s desk or chair. Two years ago, when they’d first started sharing this broom closet the state called an office, John had been positive that the very boisterous Richie Dear had been sent from hell to torture him. Now they were friends.

Plus, John had discovered noise-canceling headphones and that had significantly improved their working relationship.

“What was Crash doing here?” Richie asked with all the disdain of a thirteen-year-old mean girl.

“Just coming by to taunt me about my life choices. The usual.”

“Ignore him. He’s just salty that you have more courtroom charisma than he does.”

John’s cell phone buzzed on his peeling wooden desk, spasmodically sliding a few inches to one side. John grimaced when he saw the name there and silenced it.

“Hiding from Mommy today?” Richie asked, eyeing John’s phone.

John loved his mother dearly, but the woman loved to chat during the workday. He’d call her back on his walk home from the train. Or...not. He had an unusually heavy stone of dread in his gut when he thought of talking to his mother this time. “She’s calling to find out about that date she set me up on.”

“That was last night!” Richie realized, nearly pouring an entire mug of tepid coffee all over his pants as he swung around to face John. “How’d it go? I’m guessing if you’re dodging your mother’s calls, it was a bust. Didn’t Estrella swear this was going to be a love match? Your future wife?” Richie slugged back half the mug of stale coffee without even a wince, something that all good public defenders learned how to do at some point or another.

“It was a waste of a swipe,” John grumbled, referring to the MetroCard fare for the two trains he’d taken to get to that ridiculous restaurant.

“Why?” Richie asked nosily, slugging back the rest of the coffee. “Was she boring? Rude to the waiter?” He leaned in and theatrically whispered, “Was she one of those horrible people who blow their noses into cloth napkins?”