“Jared, I’m serious. He’s got it in for me.”

               “You are out of your mind, Angela. Judges don’t retaliate. Especially against attorneys, unless you’ve committed some egregious act against the court. Which,” he took a bit of his sandwich, “you haven’t.” He took another bite, staring at Angela. “Right?” The question was muffled, but Angela understood what he was saying. Part of the reason for this lunch was to discuss the case she was working on, even though Angela couldn’t stand watching Jared eat. Especially not the pastrami, salami, and Swiss subs he ate, loaded with every condiment known to man. The red onions overpowered the stench of the subpar meats, which was incredible, considering Angela enjoyed red onions. At least she did.

               Jared ripped open his bag of sour cream and onion chips, another smell she didn’t care for. There weren’t many things Angela couldn’t tolerate, but sour cream and onion chips? That was almost as bad as sauerkraut. “Do you have to eat those right now?” She wrinkled her nose, thinking he had to have done it on purpose. Jared knew she didn’t like to eat the same things he did, and he sometimes did it to irritate her. But not today. Then he took a big handful of the chips, shoving them into his mouth. She tried not to picture him wiping his greasy fingers on his khakis. It made her shudder.

               “Yersh.” He chomped away, thankfully with his mouth closed. Closed enough that she could see the food inside his mouth, but she could hear it. Angela couldn’t decide what was worse. He swallowed, sipped his Dr. Pepper through a straw, and took one last bite of his sandwich. “But I’m done now, so let’s discuss the judge. He’s not out to get you like you’d like to believe. If anything, he’s embarrassed you showed him up.”

               “I wasn’t trying to show him up. I was . . .”

               “Protecting your client. Yeah. I know. I was in the courtroom, remember? I had that B&E case before you presented yours. He was sensitive before you got there. Judy said he had oral surgery a few hours before your case, so there’s that. It could be he was agitated. It would explain a lot of your so-called theory. Plus, have you ever had oral surgery and returned to the courtroom? I haven’t.”

               “But you’ve never had oral surgery either, Jared.”

               “True,” he took another big sip of his remaining Dr. Pepper. “It doesn’t change the facts here, Angela. That’s all I’m saying.”

               “Jared.” She turned away from him, swinging her leg in her chair. Jared’s office overlooked the Newport Beach harbor from his fourth-floor office window. The glass was clean enough to eat off if you dared to. “Mhmm.”

               “I don’t know if I like the sound of that. What are you thinking, Angela?”

               She spun her chair around, facing him.

               “I’m not going to be a part of whatever this,” he waved his hands in a circle around her, “is. No.”

               “You don’t have to do anything,” she said, turning to look out the window.

               “I never do. That’s what you always tell me.”

               “When was the last time?” Angela asked.

               “Three weeks ago. Monday, July 30th, 2019, Strientburg v. Applegate. Sitting inside their conference room, waiting for you. You made me wait in that hellish conference room without air conditioning for over three hours while Sanchez ‘investigated,’ or so you told me.”

               “Was it hot?” The playfulness in her voice irritated Jared.

               “Not going to do it again. Not like that.”

     “Never say never, Jared.”