Love is just Camouflage

Chapter 1 The Nature of Reality

the nature of reality

Olivia Gray had never been fond of legal conferences, but they were a necessary evil in her line of work.

Earlier today, she’d attended a panel on supporting juror impartiality, with Judge Jaime Lachlan as the speaker.

During her five-year tenure at Farkas, Ariete & Kemeny, one of the biggest law firms in the southeast, she’d clashed several times with the honorable Judge Lachlan.

Olivia had one of the highest win rates in her firm, yet most of her losses had occurred in Judge Lachlan’s courtroom.

The woman was infuriating—smart, detail-oriented, exacting (her grandma would have called her persnickety), unable to perceive any shade of gray, unimpressed by status or riches, and, most vexing, incredibly attractive.

Olivia tried not to be shallow, and to be honest, Lachlan’s pretty face alone would never be enough to make up for all the headaches she’d given Olivia in the courtroom, but well, she had eyes.

The talk had been informative, and one of the few Olivia didn’t fear nodding off during without constantly taking a sip of her coffee.

At the end of each day, people met in the hotel’s bars and restaurants to network, and while Olivia had done her due diligence over the last two days, the thought of enduring another evening lost in schmoozing and talking shop set off a jackhammer rattling in her skull.

Instead, she left the hotel, sighing when cool, fresh air blew in her face.

She headed down the busy street in search of a place to drink a glass of wine in peace and perhaps eat a little something.

All the caffeine she’d consumed over the last few days had left her in a state of near constant agitation, making it hard to pick up a pen without her hand trembling.

Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. I really shouldn’t be so tired.

After a ten-minute walk, she halted in front of a bar tucked in a corner between a bookshop and an art atelier. She opened the door and stepped inside, inundated by a woodsy smell intermingled with the scent of fried food reminding her of home. This would do nicely.

Her gaze trailed across the dimly lit room and its patrons—an eclectic mix of college students playing pool and darts in the back, and older generations sitting at the bar or congregating at the various booths and tables, deep in conversation or busy eating.

An ideal place to get lost in. The low hum of music, something folksy, played in the background, more white noise than anything else, but it still added… something.

Olivia settled on a barstool, ordering a Merlot and fries—not really dinner or her usual combination, but it would hit the spot. She sipped her wine when she noticed an attractive dark-haired woman sitting at a corner table by herself, her head bent over a spread-out set of papers.

Olivia traced a finger over the glass’s rim, considering drawing closer. It had been a while since she’d permitted herself any kind of…distraction, not that it would be a sure bet, but she was sorely tempted.

She picked up her glass and nodded to the bartender to indicate where she was heading before striding to the corner table.

The woman wore dark-framed glasses, her long, glossy hair falling in waves over her shoulders.

She neither noticed Olivia’s approach, nor how Olivia froze after a few steps upon realizing that the woman was none other than Judge Jaime Lachlan.

Earlier in the day, her hair had been pulled into a tight bun, and she hadn’t been wearing glasses. Contacts, perhaps?

Olivia contemplated withdrawing but straightened instead. Nothing gained and whatnot.

“May I?” Olivia asked, one hand on the remaining empty chair.

Jaime looked up, and Olivia forced her shoulders to relax. She needed to act nonchalant, as if none of this mattered to her. It didn’t.

Jaime stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Yes, you may take the chair.”

“No, no. I just…” She gritted her teeth. The woman clearly didn’t recognize her, and why should she? Their last encounter in court hailed back half a year. “I’m asking if I may join you.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She glanced around. “All right.”

A small smile flitted over Olivia’s lips, and her fingers tingled. She sat down, placing her wine in front of her.

Jaime eyed her expectantly while dread doused Olivia’s anticipation. What are you doing here?

“Was there something you wished to discuss, Counselor?” Jaime finally asked, leaning back in her chair.

Olivia swallowed her surprise and put on an easy smile.

There was no way she’d admit to not having recognized Jaime at first or confess her original intentions: to sit down and flirt with a beautiful woman.

Contemplating the smartest reply, Olivia cleared her throat.

“Do you think anyone can be truly impartial?”

Jaime toyed with the pen in her hand. “No, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for it.”

“Spoken like a true judge.”

Jaime raised one manicured eyebrow.

Olivia didn’t understand how Jaime could still be so put together—even her makeup looked impeccable—while Olivia felt like a wrung-out washcloth after these last three days.

Of course, looks could be deceiving. She didn’t look how she felt, and Olivia preferred it that way.

Appearances should be deceiving, considering people’s tendency to take advantage of vulnerability.

“Your professional goal is impartiality, so it makes sense you’d believe that. ”

Jaime hummed. “What do you believe?”

Olivia drank from her glass, the mouth-drying liquid settling heavily on her tongue while she contemplated how to phrase her answer. “It’s a futile endeavor.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Olivia tilted her head. “We can never escape our biases, even when we believe we do. In fact, you could have the bias of being unbiased.”

The server brought her fries, and Olivia thanked him before popping the superior incarnation of potatoes into her mouth, holding back a groan of appreciation at the flavor. Crispy and perfectly seasoned. There was nothing worse than salt-deficient or too-salty fries.

“Like journalism, where they give both sides the same time and weight in the name of objectivity, even though one party might argue the Earth is flat,” Jaime said.

“Yes. They mistake calling out nonsense with being unfair and judgmental.” She patted her mouth with a napkin.

“However, a magistrate is supposed to render a judgment.”

“Of course, but we’re still the product of our upbringing, of our environment, our genes. For example, if you were raised by different parents or in a different culture, religion, what have you, you’d likely view a given situation differently than you do now.”

“And that implies we cannot be impartial or objective?” A small smile tugged at the corner of Jaime’s mouth, almost derailing Olivia’s train of thought.

“Not necessarily. I suppose, in the end, I’m questioning the existence of an objective reality.”

Jaime’s eyes widened as she held Olivia’s gaze. “That’s… something.”

Olivia chuckled. She likely shouldn’t find Jaime’s stunned expression so appealing or entertain the urge to repeat the feat.

“Then what’s the point of the justice system?” Jaime asked.

Olivia shrugged. “People still need to be punished.” She ate more of her food, resisting the urge to lick her fingers, and instead, once more used her napkin.

Jaime, in the process of swallowing a sip of her drink, coughed and covered her mouth with the crook of her arm.

“Am I wrong? Aren’t you in the business of punishing people?”

Jaime flushed.

Olivia had so many questions, but first, she needed her heart to calm down as there was no reason for it to assault her chest wall in such a manner.

“That’s not how I’d describe my job, no.” Jaime cleared her throat.

“All right. Here’s the thing, objectivity, impartiality, or even the nature of reality don’t matter.

We can never be sure of the latter, and the former, well, we can try our best, but the way society is structured often means some…

pathways are easier to access than others, especially for certain groups of people. ” Olivia raised her eyebrows.

“When we’re discussing art or diverging preferences of flavors, I’d say the nature of reality doesn’t matter, and we need no ruling on whether chocolate or vanilla is better, nor do we need to agree on what an expressionistic painting depicts, but there are still objective facts—some things are true, whether or not you believe in them.

There is no disagreeing with an assault or murder.

Such realities aren’t up for interpretation. ”

“For the most part, no, unless they’re faked, which has happened. But my point is, the punishment is what’s up for interpretation.”

Jaime stilled, her brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

Olivia stifled a smile at the emergence of Jaime’s preference for all things black and white. “It’s complicated because there are so many variables at play.”

“Enlighten me, or I must conclude you’re full of shit.”

Olivia’s mouth went dry at the challenging expression on Jaime’s face, the glint in her brown eyes. The night might go according to her original impulse after all, and with such a delightful companion, no less.

“I recall your…disdain for how the justice system seems to favor some people more than others.”

“There’s no ‘seems,’ Counselor.” Jaime’s jaw tightened.

“My point exactly. We’re supposed to be equal, but we’re not. We don’t all have the same opportunities, and as such, reaching spheres of money and influence is easier for some than others.

“Take banks: they’ll give all the loans to people who don’t need them while denying those who’ll suffer without help.” It sucked, but there was nothing to be done about it. No way to change it, and aren’t you supposed to accept the things you cannot change?

“Well, banks wouldn’t stay in business if they lent money to people who will probably default.”

“Yes, of course, but isn’t it also an assumption? Many hardworking poor people are more trustworthy and frugal than a lot of trust fund babies.” And yet, none of it ever mattered. Olivia shook her head.

“True,” Jaime conceded.

A rowdy crowd of college students playing a game of billiards shouted in delight, startling them both.

Olivia rolled her lips. “We can agree life is easier for people with money and connections, and so when those people come into conflict with the law, they also often get away with more.”

“You would know all about that.”

Olivia frowned at the venom in Jaime’s tone. “Everyone has a right to legal representation.”

“Yes, but there are public defenders, and then…there are lawyers like you.”

Olivia held Jaime’s stormy gaze. “I didn’t create the system.” Her voice rang sharp and hard as a muscle in her temple pulsed. Was that how Jaime saw her? Lawyers like her?

“No.” Jaime leaned forward. “But one could argue that you help perpetuate it.”

Olivia crossed her arms. “So do many judges by handing out lesser sanctions to people based on their skin color, family connections, or money.”

They both glared at each other before breaking eye contact.

Olivia observed the content of her almost empty wine glass as the indistinct murmur of voices, people lost in their own conversations, grew louder in the stillness settling between them.

She didn’t know what had happened or how their intriguing discussion had derailed so quickly that she found herself frowning when she realized she wanted to take things back, to fix what had just been broken.

But how? She’d not apologize considering she’d done nothing wrong, and moreover, Jaime had thrown the first punch. Still, it smarted that Jaime thought of her as being so callous.

Jaime sighed. “Perhaps we are both cogs in the same broken machine.”

Olivia found Jaime’s gaze again. Her dark eyes had lost their anger, yet they still seemed to swallow her, and despite being unable to decipher the intent in their depths, she felt pulled into them, which was such a terrible idea. “Perhaps.”

She was aware of the system’s inherent inequality and unfairness, as well as her role in it, yet she excelled at what she did. Olivia loved to win—the rush of excitement flooding her veins, warm and heady, was something she’d never tire of.

She bore no responsibility for the workings of the world. In their profession, if you wanted to thrive, you had to play the game. Hard.

Olivia clenched her jaw. Why did Jaime have to be so attractive and so…frustrating at the same time?

Some boundaries were more flexible than others, and yes, she used the system to her advantage so her clients won, but wasn’t that the point? Besides, being aware of a flawed system didn’t mean you had to have a drive to change it.

Surely there were granola-chewing do-gooders out there already working on it. She had no desire to join them, and the feeling was surely mutual.