They were negotiating turf—home advantage—Ted realized. As humble as the squalor of his abode was, he did not want to have a conversation with this formidable figure in the padded luxury of the back of a chauffeured Mercedes. There were neighborhoods in Queens where a vehicle like that could be stripped for parts while waiting for the light to change. Neither did Ted want the Judge to know enough of his personal business to see where Ted was going or whom he might meet there.

“Maybe next time,” he said. He wanted to know why the Judge had come but would not give him the satisfaction of having to be asked.

The Judge hesitated. “I hope I don’t make you late,” he said finally, and stepped over the threshold. “Once you hear what I have to say, you may have some questions.”

First round to Ted. The discussion would be held across his IKEA table.

The Judge took a chair and angled it so that he was sitting with his back to the wall, facing the room. Ted took the chair opposite and angled it the same way, forcing the older man to uncomfortably turn his head to speak.

“I can offer you water or seltzer. There might be a beer.” Despite his time as a part of the Fitzmaurice clan, Ted had never developed the family appreciation for brown-colored spirits. And his budget would not have supported cognacs distilled before he was born.

“Nothing, thank you. How have you been?”

“I get by.”

The Judge had helped Ted land his next job after he was given the boot but had warned him that was as much as he could do. Ted blamed only himself for making a dog’s breakfast of that opportunity. As far as he was concerned, they were even. Neither owed a favor or expected one.

“Yes,” the Judge said. “I knew you were resourceful.”

Ted fought the urge to check the Uber clock. The Judge would like him to be distracted.

“I know that you and Jill have kept in touch,” the Judge said. The lightness of his delivery was a warning in itself.

This had to be a feint. His Honor hadn’t come all the way out to bucolic Maspeth to chat about family.

“We’re friends,” Ted said.

He nodded. “Has it ever crossed your mind that what happened between you two was, in a way, inevitable?”

“Are we talking about sexual orientation? Or family interference? They think I turned Jill off from men.”

“I thought you were aware of her preferences. Before the marriage, I mean.”

“You knew?” Ted had been taken off guard and had revealed an iota of his ignorance. The old bull had succeeded. The lunch Ted had been anticipating for twenty-four hours was forgotten. He wanted to stay home and fight.