Pushed by Chuck, Pari fell back on the table, scattering glasses and spilling drinks, and Chuck came after her. The hoots and catcalls from the law bros were escalating into a drunken frenzy; the straight boys wouldn’t have admitted it, Shaw guessed, but they’d been hoping for exactly something like this when they’d first started harassing the women at Radio Girls.

As though overwhelmed by sensation and desire, Pari shot out one hand, caught the arm of a law bro, and dragged him toward her, molding his fingers around her breast. Chuck went here one better: she yanked on the polo of one of the bros, and he staggered close enough for her to kiss him. She grabbed his hand, forced it into her short buzz, tilted her head back. The guy groping Pari had gotten into it too, mashing her breast like he was checking a rotisserie chicken, and Pari propped herself at an angle, her face scrunched with what the bro probably mistook for passion. She rounded her mouth into an O. The bro must have taken it for an exclamation of pleasure.

Shaw raised an eyebrow at North.

“That’s probably good enough.”

Ending the recording, Shaw followed his partner toward the bros’ table. Pari wormed free of the guy mauling her, and Chuck scrambled backward, wiping her mouth. When another guy took a step toward them, Shaw moved to intervene, but he found himself totally unnecessary. Pari sprayed him with something that sent him stumbling back, howling as he dug at his eyes, trying to wipe them clear.

You probably could have heard the chorus of “Assault!” and “Battery!” from the courthouse steps. The law bros were splitting into two groups—the jackals, cowering in a pack, uncertain of what to do next; and the Romney boy and his two lieutenants, who were eyeing Shaw and North, obviously aware of a new threat.

“Clear out,” North said. “And don’t come back.”

“That’s assault and battery,” the Romney boy said, checking his perfect part as though afraid it might have fallen out of place. “And those will be felony charges. These two cunts—”

Shaw managed to catch North’s arm before he could really swing into the punch, and Romney boy barked a laugh. He did, however, take a step back. “You can bet there’s going to be civil action too. Beefer’s eyes—”

“Beefer?” Shaw muttered.

North shook off Shaw, trying to get clear for another punch.

“You want to see second-degree battery?” North was saying. “What she just did was self-defense. What I’m about to do, that’s going to be fucking textbook battery.”

“All right,” Shaw said. “Cool it.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.” Then, to the bro with the Romney boy haircut, Shaw said, “Take a look at this. And don’t bother trying to mess up the phone or steal it; the video’s already on the cloud.”