Mistress of Justice

filled with anxiety as Clayton asked these pleasant questions with a slightly sadistic edge.
    Silence. Feet shifting.
    Clayton continued. “Young people here tonight. Lots of young people. It’s funny, isn’t it, Ralph? When I was their age I was making … fifty, seventy-five dollars a week. These youngsters make ninety thousand dollars a year. Amazing.”
    “Wendall, is there something you want?”
    “Ralph, I want you to vote in favor of the merger on Tuesday. That’s what I want.”
    A long pause. The old man’s voice was trembling when he said, “I can’t, Wendall. You know that. If the merger goes through I lose my job. Donald loses his; a lot of people do.”
    “You’ll be well provided for, Ralph. A good severance.”
    “I can’t. I can’t afford to retire.”
    “No, of course not. You’ve got expenses.”
    Dudley sounded very cautious now. “That’s right. It costs a lot to live here.”
    “Manhattan … most expensive city on earth.”
    “I’m sorry, Wendall. I’ll have to say no to the merger.”
    Silence again. Taylor imagined Dudley’s thoughts racing to catch up with Clayton’s. Taylor’s, however, had already arrived at their sad destination.
    “You don’t mind blunt talk?” Clayton asked.
    “Of course not. I appreciate candor and—”
    “If you don’t vote in favor of the merger I’ll go public with your affair with a sixteen-year-old girl.”
    The choked laugh didn’t mask the despair. “What are you talking about?”
    “Ralph, I respect your intelligence; I hope you’ll respect mine. The little whore, the one you dress up and parade around as your granddaughter, which makes it all the more disgusting. You—”
    Taylor heard the slap of a blow, a laugh of surprise from Clayton, feet dancing in the awkward shuffle of wrestling. Finally: a sad, desperate groan from Dudley—a sound filled with pain and hate and hopelessness.
    Clayton laughed again. “Really, Ralph … Are you all right? There, sit down now. Are you hurt?”
    “Don’t touch me,” Dudley said, his voice cracking. The sounds of the older man’s sobbing echoed softly in the room.
    Clayton said patiently, “Let’s not be emotional. There’s no reason for me to tell anyone. Let’s negotiate a little bit. You’re the firm’s charmer, aren’t you? You’re suave, debonaire. You’re a holdout from the days when a lawyer’s manners were as important as his intelligence. So, now, how’s this? You and three of your cronies switch your votes in favor of the merger and I won’t share your secret.”
    “Three others?”
    “Say, Joe, Porter, pick somebody else. But—here’s the good part—you bring me any
more
and I’ll kick in fifty thousand each to your severance package. That should keep you in teenage pussy for another year or so.”
    “You’re vile,” Dudley spat out.
    “More vile than you?” Clayton asked. “I wonder. The vote’s day after tomorrow, Ralph. Why don’t you think about it.” Clayton’s was the voice of luxurious moderation. “Just think about it. It’s your decision. Come on, go downstairs, have a drink. Relax.”
    “If you only understood—”
    Clayton’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “Oh, but that’s the point, Ralph. I can’t understand. And no one else will either.”
    The door opened. Two pairs of feet receded. Both slowly. One pair in triumph, one in despair, but the sound they made was the same.

     
    Still in the quiet den Taylor was concentrating on a single noise.
    Rhythmic and soft.
    She had stayed here, hiding behind the armoire, after the partners had left because Clayton had remained upstairs; she’d heard his voice from nearby.
    Then after five minutes or so the sound began. What is that?
    A voice chanting? Primitive music?
    She couldn’t place it at first. It seemed very familiar but she associated it with an entirely different place.
    Rhythmic and soft.
    No, couldn’t be.…
    She walked to the far wall and pressed her head against the plaster again. The sound was coming from the other side—Clayton’s bedroom.
    Oh, Taylor realized.
That’s
the sound. Of course. Not one voice, but two.
    The nature of the activity didn’t surprise Taylor much, considering what she now knew about Wendall Clayton. What did surprise her, however, was that the other participant was Carrie Mason, who was contributing half of the sound effects.
    “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.… I’m almost there.… Yeah, yeah, yeah.…”
    Carrie may