Page 51 of Hush

But at three PM, Tom appeared in his doorway, suit jacket off, tie loose, and a huge smile splitting his face. “We did it.”

He pushed back from his desk. “The felony murder case? You got the U.S. Attorney’s Office to accept a plea?”

“And a good plea at that.” Sighing, he slouched one shoulder against the doorframe. “Solórzano wanted to focus on another trial she has with Judge King, and wanted to make an eleventh-hour deal. I held a firm line since they wanted to play games until it suited them.”

“Nice.”

“He gets twenty years, which is better than forty, and better than facing the possibility of the death penalty.” Since the death had occurred during the commission of a robbery, capital murder charges brought the death penalty onto the table. “The kid is terrified and knows he screwed up. I’m sentencing him to a prison with a good education center and trade school. He can finish his high school degree and learn a trade.” Tom shook his head. Wrong friends, wrong place, wrong time. “When he gets out, he’ll be in his mid-forties. Hopefully he’ll have a life set up for himself when he does.”

“Well done, Judge B.” Mike couldn’t stop his smile, and he didn’t try. It was the best possible ending for the kid. The very best. “So now your trial calendar has opened up. Going to take a vacation next week?”

Tom scoffed. “Yeah, right. That will be the day. I’ve got hearings on motions for other trials all next week in the afternoon, and I’ve got to finish my opinions and briefs.” He made a face, as if he were a superhero in a bad comic book. “Justice never rests.”

Laughing, Mike threw his head back. “You’re too much, Judge B.”

“Let’s celebrate. It’s after three on a summer Friday in DC. The weekend started hours ago.”

“For other people. But like you said, justice never rests.”

“We’re the only ones still here on the floor.”

“Really?” Not that he was surprised by that. Summer Fridays bled DC workers like a bad head wound. If someone didn’t have to be in DC for the sweltering weekend, they often booked it out of the city.

“Come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

Did Tom know that soundedexactlylike he was asking Mike out?

They headed out of the near-empty courthouse and went across the street to the same Mexican restaurant.TheirMexican restaurant, as Mike thought of it. It was full, packed with people for happy hour and celebrating the end of the workweek. Mike steered Tom through the crowd to the patio, and they parked in a corner underneath a fan that helped scatter some of the summer heat. They both shucked their suit jackets and rolled up their sleeves.

Tom ordered a margarita, and Mike asked for a beer. This wasn’t the time to lose his wits.

He managed to keep up the small talk for a while, running through the threat assessments from the day before and then listening to Tom retell the negotiations he’d been through with Solórzano and the U.S. Attorney’s Office all day Thursday and Friday morning.

From there, Tom started talking about the game. Mike squirmed. He’d rather not remember the hot wash of humiliation he’d faced all night long.

“You guys really play well together. You and Kris are a good pair.”

“Yeah, we’re good together. We’re a regular Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Is he seeing someone?”

“No. Kris is a widower.”

“Oh.” Tom’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. It was a while ago. He’s dealt with it, in his own way.”

Tom wanted to ask, he could tell, but his eyes shone, bright with grief and hesitation. He took a sip of his drink and changed the subject. “Is the game usually so… ribald?”

Mike groaned. “They were trying to screw with me. I’ve never brought a friend to a game.”

“Your ex never cheered you on?”

“I… never brought afriend. I’m sure they thought we were hooking up.”

Tom flushed and reached for his drink. He wouldn’t look at Mike.

Heart hammering, Mike tried to figure out the right thing to say. Was Tom’s blushing a tell, a giveaway? Or just a normal reaction for a straight guy? “I’m sorry. Did it make you uncomfortable? I told them all at the bar that you’re just a friend. They know we’re not— I mean, they know you’re not into dudes.”