Chapter Text
Seven-thirty in the morning was too early for a day of work to start, but at least she’d be off by four and could spend the rest of the day doing whatever she wanted–typically not that much, if she was being honest.
Coffee in hand, Belly made her way through the double doors of the courthouse, setting the cup down on a ledge and organizing her belongings into a plastic bin to run through the security belt. Her shoes always set off the metal detector, but security knew her well enough to let her through. Every day, she scrambled to gather her things, as if there was anyone else in line behind her. Nobody else was in the building when Belly arrived.
She stepped up the marble stairs, heels clacking loudly in the empty building. All of her paperwork was right where she needed it. She leafed through it, making sure that nothing belonged to another clerk’s office, and descended the stairs. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
The sound of the door buzzing open didn’t faze her as she struggled to turn the handle with the half of one hand she had available.
Coffee on her desk. Lunch in the fridge. Coat on the back of her chair.
Once situated, Belly sat down to time-stamp each paper.
Coming in so early in the morning was a chore at times, but Belly enjoyed the solitude that came with it. She was in the office at least thirty minutes before everyone else; time to let herself get hypnotized by the stamper hammering down on each page and wake up at her own pace.
Warrants separated from the clerks who worked the window, Belly got to work.
Each morning, it was her job to index the served warrants into their computer system so they could be arraigned later that morning. It was a process that had taken a long time to perfect, working slowly and reading every line on the page to make sure she wasn’t missing any steps. Now, Belly knew exactly what to look for. She licked her thumb before pulling out a manila folder with a new case number on it; the first defendant didn’t have an existing file. That was one step she always took her time with, checking their database for criminal history. On too many occasions had she or someone else been scolded for creating a new profile for someone whose information was already in the system.
She typed in the new case number, then cast her eyes down one line to fill in the defendant’s name.
The court date came next–today.
Easy-peasy.
Identifiers were after that. It always made her chuckle to select the “bald” option for hair color.
Misdemeanor or felony.
Jurisdiction of arrest.
Arrest date.
Jurisdiction of warrant.
Save.
Onto the next one.
There were five warrants to process this morning, not the most she’d ever had, but enough to have her glancing at the clock to make sure she was on time.
Belly was scheduled to be in court this morning, too, which meant she had to prepare all of the files for the new defendants, re-arrange the cases by courtroom to make sure they were evenly split, print the dockets–one for the judge, one for the district attorney, one for the bailiff, one for the interpreters, and one for the courtroom clerk herself– make sure the files were each in the right bucket for each courtroom, and prepare her own docket and organize her files. Lines between each case, checking for defendant history and victim history with both judges and attorneys, deciding which docket to schedule each trial on, finding potential new dates for any of her motions to continue, and whatever other information she or the judge could possibly need.
Sometimes it was overwhelming, but Belly could do it. She was quick but methodical, and she always finished on time, whether anyone offered a hand or not.
This morning her docket wasn’t too heavy, but it wasn’t too light, either. One of the benefits of being the one scheduling which courtroom each case went into meant that Belly always got the preferred docket.
There was a certain type of case that Belly almost always switched into her own courtroom.
Cases being handled by attorney Conrad Fisher.
The entire staff of the clerk’s office adored him, especially Belly.
Conrad was a private defense attorney who also took appointments from the court, and not only for criminal matters. He was the first person all of the clerks called when a parent or child needed representation in a foster-care case, when someone was detained while on trial for nonpayment of child support or any other civil matter. With how busy he was, if Conrad was available for the specific time the court date was set, he took the appointment. And he did a damn good job.
All of the attorneys who frequented the courthouse knew of Conrad’s success rate. Each district attorney who came in every morning for arraignments always let out a noticeable sigh when they heard Conrad was being appointed to a case. Their administration wasn’t as strong as it had once been, and Conrad was getting his cases tossed left and right.
To Belly, who didn’t know that much about the law, he looked and sounded like the smartest person in the world whenever he took to the podium to address the judge. His suits were always freshly pressed and color-coordinated with his socks, shiny loafers on his feet more often than not. Belly had once made a bet with one of her judges that he’d come in wearing the brown ones–he usually did on Wednesdays–and ended up winning donuts for her entire office. Belly would’ve thanked him, though that would’ve required letting him know that she paid enough attention to him to notice his shoe schedule.
He pulled out statutes Belly had never heard of–which wasn’t that surprising–but left even the judges pulling out their codebooks.
Most of all, Conrad treated his clients with respect. It was clear to her that he wasn’t defending people because he agreed with their actions or thought that whatever they were being accused of was okay; he was there to defend their rights. He’d been appointed to represent the worst of the worst, the judges knowing he was the most capable of doing so, and he was able to do so respectfully. Some defense attorneys came after witnesses so hard that they were crying during cross-examination. Conrad was gentle; respectful. He relied on the facts, not how the cases made him feel.
More than once, he’d stayed after his case ended and spoken with the judge about a case he’d previously had. He would admit that some of the things he dealt with were morally reprehensible, but he also talked about the defendants like they were human, something a lot of them would never experience again in their lives. On top of that, Conrad never seemed to take the hard cases just for the money. A few defense attorneys often in the building only showed up retained on cases with gross felonies. One attorney, Belly even noticed, only took high-profile sexual assault cases. In addition to his court-appointed cases, Conrad also did a lot of pro bono work. He’d also mentioned before that some of his clients wouldn’t pay him, but he never chased after them for the funds. A lot of them were in hard situations, he’d say. He was the most understanding person Belly had ever met.
He was on her docket for one arraignment and one motion that morning.
Calling the arraignments first, Belly set off in alphabetical order.
The first few cases were nothing special.
“You are accused of on or about whatever date bla bla bla bla.”
“Do you wish to apply for court-appointed counsel?”
One defendant on her docket had a conflict with the public defender, leading the judge to open up her court-appointed counsel binder and peel off a sticker for the first name on the list.
Belly grinned to herself as the judge handed her the appointment paperwork so she could make copies to distribute.
Conrad Fisher.
She paperclipped his copy of the appointment paperwork to his copy of the warrant and slid it into the back of the case file. Conrad liked his paperwork to be emailed to him, and Belly never minded taking the extra step to do so. Of course, she loved when he’d come to the window to collect his paperwork, and she could sneak an extra glance at him, but her heart always fluttered when his name popped up in her inbox.
She set the folder on top of her stack and picked up the phone to call the next case into the courtroom.
One case later, she called the case Conrad had been retained on.
The arraignment went quickly, no time was wasted on an application for court-appointed counsel, and a court date was scheduled within minutes.
He was about to spin around and walk out of the courtroom when the judge advised him they’d be calling his other case next.
Conrad smiled at her, waving as Belly called the next case over the loudspeaker. She stumbled over the last name, blushing furiously as she focused on reading it off her docket.
A motion to continue, filed by Conrad.
“Mr. Fisher, it’s your motion.”
He stood, legs extending and proving once more that he was as tall as Belly dreamed he was.
“Yes, Your Honor. This is a case I was appointed to represent Mr. Johnston on, and it’s currently set for a preliminary hearing on April fourteenth at ten-thirty. Due to a family matter, I cannot attend this hearing, and as it’s set for trial, nobody else from my office can cover for me. I was hoping we could either continue it or advance it if the District doesn’t oppose. My client has advised me that he is okay with either.”
The judge sifted through her paperwork. “This case has already been continued twice.”
Typically cool and collected, Conrad seemed to falter at the judge’s inquiry. “Your Honor, the first continuance was at the request of the District, on January fifteenth, and then it was rescheduled by the court due to a snow closure last Friday. My office received the notice of hearing yesterday, and I filed a motion as soon as I heard about it.”
“Your client is incarcerated, Mr. Fisher. Are you sure he’s agreed to the court date being moved?”
“Yes, Your Honor. We’ve discussed it at great length. I hope to delay it as little as possible, and as I previously stated, my client and I would also be comfortable advancing the case for a preliminary hearing if the District agrees, and of course, if the court has time available,” Conrad explained.
“District, argument?”
The district attorney stood hastily, sending a paper or two flying onto the ground. He stepped over to the podium and shifted the microphone downward. “The District does not object, Your Honor.”
“Alright,” the judge nodded, turning to her monitor, which was connected to Belly’s.
Belly pulled open their scheduling system and entered the type of docket as well as the correct judge before hitting search. Their next available was as early as a few days from then.
“Hit next for me,” the judge murmured. “Again.”
They landed on April twelfth at eleven, and both attorneys requested permission to use their phones to look at their calendars.
With approval from both, Belly entered the date into the system, noting that the case was continued by agreement, though on the motion of the defense.
Before Belly looked up, the rest of the courtroom had cleared.
All except for one party.
“Thank you, Your Honor, truly,” Conrad spoke, voice heavier than Belly had ever heard it.
“It’s about your mother, right? It’s about that time of year.”
Conrad nodded, sliding his paperwork into his bag. “It is.”
The judge softened. She and Conrad knew one another back when she was the head public defender, and Conrad was working off his loans from law school. “I should’ve remembered. We should have that date marked off for you on our calendar.”
Conrad smiled sadly, doing his best to hide it. “You don’t have to go to the trouble. I can file a motion when necessary.”
“You do so much for us, Conrad. I’ll talk to my Clerk about it.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
With that, he was gone.
Belly didn’t have it in her to pay attention to the motion to quash.
Once court was out for the morning, Belly found herself back at her desk, scanning papers and double-checking the information she’d entered during arraignments. She had two packets she needed to put into the public defender’s box up front at the window, and she had one very handsome attorney’s paperwork to send over.
The best part of appointing Conrad to a case was that their policy in general was to call the attorney to let them know of the appointment, and that they could find their paperwork at the clerk’s window. With other attorneys, if they reached their receptionist, Belly and the other courtroom clerks didn’t mind letting them take the message and pass it on. With Conrad, Belly always told the receptionist she needed to speak with Conrad about a case he was appointed to. It was about a fifty-fifty chance of getting him on the phone. If he was in the office, he’d take the call.
Today, the receptionist let Belly know that he’d just gotten back from court and she’d transfer her over to him in just a moment, if she’d please hold.
Belly would hold all day for him.
“This is Conrad Fisher.” His voice came much sooner than expected.
Belly felt her stomach flutter. “Hi, Mr. Fisher. This is Isabel from the Cousins District Court, I-”
Before she could relay the information, he cut her off kindly, “How are you, Isabel?”
He always asked how she was.
“I’m doing well, Mr. Fisher. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
Why that made her blush, Belly had no idea. She laughed awkwardly, “I guess that’s good! Um, I was just calling because this morning you were appointed to a case in our court. The court date is April twentieth, at two in the afternoon. Your paperwork is up front at the clerk’s window, but I’ve already emailed you a copy.”
“You always know what I’m gonna ask for, huh?” He teased.
Belly thanked God this conversation wasn’t in person. In fact, they’d rarely ever had a full conversation that wasn’t over the phone. He was constantly on the move in the courthouse, trying a case, making plea discussions, and filing motions. That was another thing; Conrad always turned in his own motions by hand. Other attorneys faxed them over, even when they were the type of motion that weren’t supposed to be sent by fax, or had their legal assistants bring them over. Conrad made sure to come to the window to drop them off, make sure there were no questions or mistakes, and just to say hello to everyone. He always said he wanted to thank them for making his life so much easier.
“We just appoint you to so many cases, I want to make things as easy for you as possible.” It was half the truth. Conrad took more appointments than any other attorney, but the extra correspondence always boosted her mood for the day.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” He paused for a second. “You can say hi to me in court. I don’t bite.”
Belly could’ve thrown up and run around in circles, screaming at the same time.
“I’m supposed to be professional,” she teased back.
She could picture him shrugging, smirking. “The judges won’t mind. They like me.”
“Everybody likes you.” The words slipped out before Belly realized she’d picked them.
Fortunately, Conrad seemed to take it as part of their banter and not as the undying truth.
“I mean, not everyone. I could list a couple of district attorneys who definitely don’t like me. A lot of cops, too. Did you know that they don’t like it when your defense is that they don’t know how to do their job?”
Belly did, in fact, know that.
The one type of witnesses Conrad didn’t hold back against on the stand was cops.
“They’re gonna frame you for something one day.”
Conrad laughed. “I’m sure they’d love to. Listen, Isabel, I’ve gotta run, but thank you again for emailing me the paperwork.”
“No problem. Just…email or call me if you have any questions. My phone number is listed in my email signa–”
“I have your phone number, Isabel. I’ll call you if I have any questions. Have a good one.”
The words “you too” were a ghost on Belly’s lips as the line went dead.
“Isabel, your one o’clock came in with a plea, and judge wants to take it.”
–
“Guess who I got to call this morning?” Belly lifted the lid off her tupperware container and set it to the side, cringing as the condensation dripped onto the counter.
Though she already knew the answer, with a grin on her face, Taylor asked, “Who?”
“Mr. Fisher,” Belly purred.
“Ugh, you lucky bitch,” Taylor groaned. “He hasn’t been appointed to, like, any of my cases lately. I had to call his office about a GAL appointment, but he was in your fucking courtroom. And he can’t even do it.”
Belly squeezed out a damp paper towel and draped it over her food, sliding it into the microwave. “Sorry!”
“Did he sound super sexy on the phone?”
A pointed look flashed in Taylor’s direction.
“I’m just asking! Did he?”
“Fucking obviously!”
Taylor tossed her paper towel at Belly, who didn’t even make an attempt to deflect it. “He always takes your appointments. Like, he’d file a motion to continue on an important case just so he can get an email from you.”
“He would not.”
“He waves hi to you in the hallways!”
Belly scoffed, “That means literally nothing.”
“He doesn’t have a wedding ring, right?”
“Taylor!”
“Does he?”
“...no.”
Taylor cackled, “I knew it! I knew you’d looked!”
“Shut up!” Belly launched the paper towel back at her. “You’re the one checking out his ass every time he comes up to the window.”
“Can you blame me?” Taylor shrugged. “His butt looks so good in those tight little pants.”
“Oh, my God. We’re getting fired.”
The microwave screeched, sending Taylor and Belly a few inches into the air.
“Do you want to sit outside so we can talk shit?”
“Yeah.”
–
The rest of the day didn’t matter; Belly was pulled from court to index an emergency petition that apparently nobody else in the office knew how to do. That seemed troubling, but Belly couldn’t find it in herself to care. Nothing interesting was on her docket, and this seemed better than listening to a district attorney fumble a case.
Staring at her screen burned her eyes and stiffened her neck, but she could never have been happier to be at her desk than when her phone rang eight minutes before she was supposed to leave for the day.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Isabel? It’s Conrad Fisher.”
Her heart nearly stopped. All of a sudden, her screen became too clear and too blurry at the same time. “Hi, Mr. Fisher! What can I–”
“First, you don’t have to call me Mr. Fisher. I’m what, two years older than you? If even? You can call me Conrad.”
His voice was so sure, so eager to bring them to a more familiar level.
“I–okay, Conrad.”
She’d never spoken his first name to him before. The silence on the other end of the line told her he was adjusting to it.
“What can I do for you, Conrad?”
Belly could hear a pen tapping on the other line. “For this case you’ve appointed me to…” Papers rustled. “...are there any co-defendants?”
“No. But your victim has history with the PD,” Belly said.
This was easy information to find out; there was zero need for Conrad to call her about this. He could’ve spoken with the district attorney’s office or his client. But Belly had a feeling he was taking advantage of the fact he’d told her to call. She’d said it time and time again whenever she appointed him to a case, but the electric charge she felt after his wave this morning, and the way she was sure he’d caught her blush, seemed to motivate him this time.
“Ah, I see. Okay…” Pen scribbling. “And…which judge will that be with?”
“Uhhh…” Belly glanced at her calendar. “Should be McLaren.”
More scribbling. “Alright. Um, and…will you be in court that day?”
“Why? Want me to slip the judge a note saying your case should be dismissed?”
Conrad laughed, and it lit up Belly’s insides knowing she had the power to do so.
“Maybe, yeah. Or maybe I could get you to fuck up my–oh my God, I’m sorry. Mess up my client’s court costs.” His tone grew more awkward toward the end, clearly embarrassed to have let his professional side slip. “I’m sorry, we’re at work, and I-”
Belly felt emboldened by the casual nature of their conversation. “Would you have corrected yourself if we were talking outside of work?”
She was surprising even herself today, certainly catching Conrad off guard.
“Um…”
“My lunch is at noon tomorrow unless my trial runs long. I always sit in the café. Call me if you have any further questions.”
Belly dropped the receiver with a click, pulling her hand away like it had burned her.
Had she just invited Conrad Fisher to lunch with her?
–
Sure enough, the next day, Belly’s trial ran long.
Typically, someone else in the clerk’s office would come in and cover her, but with three of her coworkers out with the flu and one on vacation, they were operating with a skeleton crew.
Conrad hadn’t been on her docket the rest of the day either, and the next day she wasn’t scheduled in court. She couldn’t call him on her work phone to let him know her lunch would be at one o’clock, since she wasn’t in court tomorrow.
She only heard he’d come by the clerk’s office when the front window workers were bragging about talking to him as she brought her PD paperwork up to their box.
“When was he here?” She asked.
Another clerk looked at the clock. “Like, five minutes ago.”
If Belly hadn’t spent a few minutes checking her phone instead of working, she could’ve caught him.
Rain was pouring down when Belly left work that afternoon, scrambling to get to her car after realizing she’d left a window cracked. The small towel from Five Below that she stored in her trunk mopped up only a fraction of the water that had slipped in.
Cursing to herself, Belly chucked the towel into the backseat and threw the car into reverse.
Droplets pelted against her windshield, but no setting on her windshield wipers felt like it was working at the right tempo to keep it clear long enough without flying back and forth so quickly it distracted her.
Across from the parking lot was a basketball court. Even in the rain, three boys bounced a ball and chased one another around the court. Their shoes must’ve been waterlogged, their clothes sopping wet, but their smiles were so infectious, Belly felt her cheeks hurt.
Rounding the corner, a flood of people came running in every direction, trying to dodge the rain. She recognized some security, some Circuit Court employees, and some attorneys. Belly squinted through the rain and found the navy suit she was looking for.
Inching her car forward, Belly almost slammed on her brakes. What was her plan? She couldn’t offer to drive him to his car or his law office. That would be weird, she thought to herself. With how hard the rain was coming down, she certainly wasn’t going to stop and roll her window down to chat with him.
He was too far away anyway, briefcase held high over his head to keep himself dry. It didn’t appear to be working, but the effort made Belly smile. Everything about him was adorable.
Her mind shifted elsewhere, to Conrad getting home after his long day and peeling off his drenched suit. He wouldn’t be wearing an undershirt, and his dress shirt would be plastered to his skin, turned see-through by the water. He’d be shivering from the cold, fists curled tight until he separated his shaking fingers to unbutton his shirt with difficulty. He’d have to peel the fabric off of him, hissing as the coolness dragged along his skin. He’d run his hands through his hair, pulling his slick bangs off his forehead and setting them in place like they were gelled. He’d moan as he stepped under the hot shower, letting it melt away the cold and the hard work of the day. Oh, how she’d take care of him in there. She’d warm him up faster than the water could dream of, her body heat transferring over and–
HONK!
The sound startled Belly, as well as everyone around her, all eyes in her direction as she rolled up to the stop sign.
Waiting for the other cars to take their turn, Belly saw Conrad on the edge of the sidewalk, briefcase still over his head, looking at her. Once he knew he’d caught her eye, he gave her a simple wave and went on his way.
The driver behind Belly had to honk at her once more.