Free Lanie's Lessons by Maddie Taylor Page A

if she was a day and her husband was at least five years her senior. What they wore beneath their robes fell into the TMI category in her opinion, and she preferred to remain blissfully ignorant. She decided it was best to remain silent than risk inserting her foot farther into her mouth.
    “You’re the complete opposite of who you are in court, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Victoria said.
    If she did mind, it was too late to say, so Lanie said nothing.
    Victoria continued, thoughtfully, “I always thought you were cold and detached. Not that there is anything wrong with that, especially during a murder trial of that magnitude. But to spend time after hours with someone like that, well… I have to admit I’m relieved. I thought dinner would be a long, frigid ordeal.”
    It was Lanie’s turn to smile. “Not too excited about having dinner with the Ice Queen, were you?”
    “You’ve heard that?”
    “Honey, I’ve been called worse to my face, but usually out of earshot of the bench.” She grimaced, realizing she had just called a judge honey. “Excuse me, your honor, I didn’t mean to be so disrespectful.”
    The judge waved that off as she demanded, “Who dared call you that to your face?” She sounded outraged on her behalf.
    “Joel Simpson, the Assistant DA, for one, in addition to every prosecutor in his office. Even Cecily Blackwell.”
    “That’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black,” she snorted. “I heard Cecily broke it off with her fiancé on a used napkin she taped to his door for all to see.”
    “I heard that. It’s awful. I rather felt sorry for him the poor man.”
    “Don’t. Her ex is a pig. He’s been telling frigid fiancé jokes around the office for months. Evidently, she was so cold that instead of a tube of lube, he kept a can of de-icer in the nightstand.”
    Lanie snickered, she couldn’t help it. When she saw the judge trying to suppress her own amusement, her hand covering her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to contain it, she lost it. They both did, laughter echoing off the tile until their eyes watered.
    “I’m sorry. I recognize that women should stick together and if any of my feminist friends heard me repeat that, I’d be drummed out of N.O.W., and though I shouldn’t perpetuate frigid women jokes, you gotta admit, knowing Cecily, that one is damn funny.”
    “It makes me wonder how many similar ones they’re telling about me.” As Lanie put that thought into words, her laughter faded and was replaced with a small frown.
    “Plenty, I’m sure because you kick their asses continually and threaten their manhood, like Cecily. I read somewhere you need five distinct character traits to be a good trial lawyer—plausibility, inquisitiveness, imagination, a considerable amount of arrogance, and a healthy dose of swagger. The challenge for us women is to pull all of them off without being subjected to the double standard. If a man shows these traits in court, he’s considered a success and labeled a badass, but if a woman acts the same way, she’s a heartless, cocky bitch. I see it every day in the halls outside my courtroom. Take the job you did in the Deever’s case, for example, you were all of those things and more. You made the plaintiffs’ attorneys look like fumbling imbeciles by comparison. It was a legal masterpiece, Lanie, which for a fifth year attorney is very impressive and everyone knows it, especially opposing counsel.
    “Fourth year.”
    She grinned. “Even better.”
    “That case took a toll and really challenged my ethics. I’m just relieved he was convicted of a capital crime in the great state of Texas, and that he’ll pay for it with his life rather than preying on more innocent women. It tore me up inside to have to defend him.”
    “You can’t let it get to you, Lanie. In our judicial system a lowlife snake has a right to a defense like anyone else.”
    Lanie tilted her head and considered the judge who once again echoed