The Intern(57)

“I’d kill to go to that, but I thought nobody could know about our deal or—” She waved her hand as if to say, Whatever this is.

“That’s right. The fact that you got your ticket from me will remain our secret. We’ll arrive and leave separately.”

She wasn’t surprised. Like all of the judge’s invitations, if it seemed too good to be true, it was.

“I assume you’re not inviting me simply for my own enjoyment. Is this one of those errands you mentioned?”

“Let’s call it an assignment. Meet me back here by five, and I’ll give you the details. Oh, and you’ll need to get dressed up for this. The invitation says ‘cocktail attire.’”

“I’ll do my best.”

Madison was distracted at school all day, worrying about what this “assignment” might entail. At five on the dot, she let herself in through the back, decommissioning the alarm. The house was dark. They kept the shades drawn still, but the threat of Wallace seeped in anyway, like the smell of a dead animal through the cracks in the walls. She went around turning on the lights. She was refreshing Lucy’s food bowl when she heard a key in the front door. Judge Conroy swept into the vestibule on a wave of metallic air, cheeks bright from the cold and arms full of shopping bags. Saks, Neiman Marcus. It was a spree.

“Oh, good, there you are,” she said, catching sight of Madison. “I’ve been thinking about what you should wear.”

“I was thinking about that, too. My interview suit is probably best.”

“That thing? It’s all pilled. It sags at the knees. It won’t do. I have some other options. Hurry up, we’re running late.”

Did the judge mean there was something in the shopping bag for Madison? She rinsed the cat-food tin under the faucet and threw it in the recycling bin, following Judge Conroy up the stairs with growing anxiety. In the dressing room, the judge was pulling pieces from the bags, draping them over chairs, hanging them on racks and smoothing out wrinkles. There were dresses, jumpsuits, pants, blazers, blouses, all in gorgeous fabrics and cuts, but subtle, and sexy only in the classiest way, like what the most beautiful lawyer in the world would wear to an important professional social event. Stroking the satin lapel of a white, tuxedo-style blazer, she snuck a peek at its price tag and blanched. $2,290. These were from the couture floors of the department stores that Madison never set foot in.

The judge looked Madison up and down, then walked around, thoughtfully perusing various items.

“This one,” she said, snatching a jumpsuit from a hook and holding it up against her. “It’s something you could plausibly buy for yourself.”

Madison fingered the price tag, fighting a laugh. $895! Was she kidding? Though the question remained how the judge afforded these clothes herself. There had to be ten or fifteen thousand dollars in purchases here, in one afternoon, by a public servant who made two hundred grand before taxes and owned piles of designer clothes already. The likely answer was, Judge Conroy was a criminal, bought and paid for with dirty money, just like these clothes. Why did Madison continue to resist that obvious conclusion?

“Try it on,” the judge commanded.

She undressed quickly and stepped into the jumpsuit. As the judge zipped her up, they fell silent, staring in awe at her reflection in the mirror. The jumpsuit was black with filmy, diaphanous sleeves and beading at the neckline, cuffs, and belt. With its restrained, elegant sparkle, it was the most exquisite thing she’d ever worn. It wasn’t the outfit that struck them, though, but how she seemed like a different person in it. More beautiful, more mature. Rich. Like she belonged. She loved it. And yet it was a fraud, a costume, to be worn for some nefarious purpose that had yet to be disclosed.

“That looks amazing on you,” the judge said.

Judge Conroy was sending her to this event for a reason. Until she understood what it was, she couldn’t agree to attend at all, let alone accept a gift this extravagant.

“It’s generous of you, Judge. Too generous. Why are you doing this?”

“This is the most important networking event of the year in the legal community. I want you to look nice.”

There was more to it than that, obviously.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Madison said, holding her gaze, demanding an answer. “If there’s something you expect me to do while I’m there, you need to tell me what it is.”

Breaking eye contact, Judge Conroy busied herself cutting tags off the garments.

“There are a couple of people I’d like you to speak to on my behalf. That’s all.”

“I see. Is there some reason you can’t talk to them yourself?”

“It would be—inadvisable.”

“I don’t understand. Inadvisable how?”

“These are people I can’t be seen with. Or who can’t be seen with me.”

That didn’t sound good.

“I want to help. I really do. But if it’s inadvisable for you, wouldn’t it be for me as well? I’m worried I’d be walking into a trap or exposing myself to prosecution. Can you promise me that won’t happen?”

The judge’s eyes flashed. “I need a favor, Madison. We had a deal. I’ve remained silent about your indiscretion. Your crime of lying on that form—”

“I didn’t lie. I left it blank.”