The Next One

Grace sat back from her desk. Who honestly expected lawyers to do anything resembling work at 3 PM on a Friday? Her boss, that's who, she thought. Being an assistant DA was a great gig, but there were times she envied her law school classmates who worked in the private sector. There's a zero percent chance any of those assholes are working right now she thought. The only thing they're working on right now is getting drunk.

Life wasn't all bad though, she reminded herself. So far, the Grace Lewis Master Plan was proceeding without a hitch. Top tier law school. Check. Top 10% of her class. Check. Clerkship with a Federal judge. Check. 10 years as a prosecutor. As of last week, check. Next step, parlay her reputation as a no-nonsense prosecutor with the local political powers that be and she was a shoe-in for a judicial seat. And who knows? Maybe she'd run for a seat on the appellate court? Or maybe submit her name to be a federal judge? Who knew? All she knew was that unlike some of her contemporaries, she hadn't slept her way to the top. Not for lack of offers, she reflected. She was petite, a gymnasts build, she told herself. Sure, it'd be nice if she was a little further down the alphabet when it came to bras, but she had long ago made peace with her boobs, or lack thereof , a voice in the back of her head whispered. There was enough for a handful, and that would have to suffice. White blonde hair. Eyes that flirted somewhere between grey and blue. Five feet, one inches of underestimate me if you dare.

It wasn't her fault if some guys only heard what they wanted to hear. She had never made any promises and felt no shame in accepting what was offered by guys thinking with their smaller head. Grace shook her head and looked back at her desk. This trial wasn't going to prep itself. As she read over the arrest report, she smiled. Officer Brewer. Dave. He was one of the ones who looked at her eyes and not at her tits. At least, he didn't check her out any more than her female colleagues did. Over the years, they had developed a friendly, professional relationship. They had both been rookies in their respective fields at the same time and had learned together how the dance of the courtroom went. Grace stopped smiling as she remembered hearing that Dave had recently gotten divorced. From her friends who practiced in the snake pit that was divorce law, rumor was that Dave had gotten boned about as badly as was possible. Hikkary something or other hsd represented Dave's ex. Grace couldn't remember is she had gone back to her maiden name or kept her married one. Rumor was, that chick was not above pulling some strings to get her way.

Grace had been surprised to hear about the divorce. Dave was handsome more than pretty, and he was tall (over 6 feet, she'd guess) and kept himself in shape. His wife, from what she could recall, was pleasant, and quite good looking, making Grace think of the word "Amazon" when describing her.

Grace smacked her forehead with her palm. "Get it together, Lewis", she growled. Or, at least she tried to. About halfway through the word "together", she experienced a jaw-cracking yawn. The next sound that could be heard was the sound of a stack of files falling to the floor as Grace collapsed into them.