Judging Beauty

Author's Note:- I wish to thank all my readers and fans for their support during these two months. I have received both praise and criticism on my works and I appreciated it all. I had always loved writing ever since I was able to hold a pencil. The past few years had been challenging years for me, and I abandoned quite a bit of my writing. I am very slowly picking it up again. The inspiration for this story started in 2012 and throughout the years had been rewritten and edited, and finally today, I have enough confidence to set it free in the open :)

This story has recurring themes similar to my previous story- Projecting the Wild Man. Beauty Sands is a friend of Ana Pollock. If you had enjoyed it, you would probably enjoy this too (I think :)

*****

This story is dedicated to the one judge I know.

Prologue

Dreamt not of you

Your presence never appears

In my dreams

Yet carried you in my heart

In all boldness of the sun

By moonlight, need no dreams to

Know that you are here.

My name is Beauty, and that is my real given name. It adorns my birth certificate, my driving licence and my resume. My parents were simple idealists. Months before I was conceived, they had already pinned down this name to their future, and if I may stress, yet to be conceived child if it were to be a girl. They had other names in mind like Faith, Hope and Serene. I guess that being teachers they had to use all the English adjectives they could think of.

Or just perhaps they wanted to make up for what they lacked - beauty. Beauty in the form of description was like a handsome man and a pretty woman walking hand in hand. My parents; they were not ugly, yet they were not entirely attractive too. So they should have the foresight that their baby girl would be a replica of the both of them.

When I came to the world though, they somehow thought it fit to name me Beauty. It was fine, really, until I was about thirteen. The kids at school would tease me about my looks. I was no beauty. Since then I had asked everyone I know to call me Bea.

Being a lawyer, I used to work in a law firm. My days at work were hectic then. If you asked me whether I felt pressured and if I had the worst job in the world, I would probably answer in the affirmative. That is if it were during the week. During weekends, when I had sufficient time to relax, I would say I love my job despite the fact that I had a miser for an employer. He was not only a miser; he was also quite a crook.

Everyone in my life calls me Bea except my parents. As simple as Bea is what I would like them to call me. I find myself not such a beauty compared to those film stars I see in magazines. Though I did not like the way Bea sounded, I had to make do with it. It was as though I were a fat, bumble bee. Yet I could not think of any other name which could be abbreviated from the adjective "beauty." So Bea stuck with people, and over time Bea became my name.

So I lived with the name Bea and came to terms with it. Had I had better looks, I would definitely have people calling me Beauty. I was afraid that people would laugh at me if I asked them to call me Beauty. I liked the way it sounded though. I would like to say that I am beautiful inside, if not outside. Yet that it not for me to boast about my own attributes. I was afraid that people would think that I was ego-centric.

I despair on why I could not be called some simple name with no connotations to it; like the way Mary, Jane, Cindy or Melissa sounded and meant - nothing as literal as my name.

...

Now I glanced at my watch. It was already eleven. Joseph was not here yet. I was standing along the busy corridor of the court building in the small town of Rubik. Yes, it does remind you of the Rubik Cube does it not? By the way, everyone in this town is expected to know how to solve the Rubik Cube the same way they say that children at the nearby seaside town are born with fins; expecting them to be good swimmers. Well, we were in close proximity to the sea too, yet the name of our historical town derives from the jagged cliffs at the far edge of town called the Rubik Cliffs which plunge right into the South Sea.

Our court building here houses the Magistrate Courts, the Juvenile Courts and the High Courts. We do not have an Appeal Court nor a Supreme Court given our small population. The nearest ones would be in the city of Rhine, which was two hours away by car from Rubik. The Supreme Court was the highest in the court hierarchy in our country.

Let me tell you a secret. I actually cannot solve the Rubik Cube. I avoided the Rubik Cube at all costs. I also considered myself a barely there lawyer. I worked in the security of my boss's office and barely ventured out to litigate cases in court. Once in a while, I did crave the hustle and bustle of court life.

I looked at familiar faces and the not so familiar faces. The disadvantage of the profession was its superficiality. The advantage was that you got to help people in real time. I would speak of its disadvantage because it affected me more than the nobler counterparts.

There were some people I wanted to make friends with when I was in legal training but unfortunately they did not want to be friends with me. They were polite, to say the least but when I extended my hand in friendship, they made no move towards me not least until I became a full-fledged lawyer. Then they were somewhat friendlier. Though they are now my friends, I am always watching my back should I make a blunder and then am ridiculed at. I accepted it as part and parcel of legal working life.

Still, I must have unwittingly achieved something in order to impress them into friendship. At that time, I was very fiery and optimistic about being a lawyer. I had just jumped the bandwagon of justice. I sought to change the world; make it a better place. Cliché works for me. I was like that.

One person who shared my nobler pursuits was a man called Stoner Corts. He was by then a popular lawyer and was known as the most eligible bachelor in the legal profession, not only in the town of Rubik but in the whole country. I was pleased because the capital city of Rhine was only two hours away from the sleepy hollow of Rubik. He drove down to Rubik often enough and I was pleased whenever he went to the Rubik Bar Society where I was then doing my compulsory legal aid training twice a week.

He went there for work purposes. There was always something which dissatisfied him. He was always brooding like a melancholy composer the likes of Robert Schumann yet loud-mouthed when he wanted to get things done. Oh yes, I did like the heavy romanticism of Schumann. Not easy to appreciate in the beginning, but then it gets understandable and somewhat soothing in all its tremors.

Stoner had a way with everyone including me. I remembered the first time we met. He barged into the large brick house which was essentially the Society headquarters. The former living room was modified to become a cubicle-free office where three desks were arranged. I was at the desk right at the door. I was on my legal aid duty. I had no clients for the day. In fact, I rarely had clients at all. Not many people know about this free service that the Society offered, which was quite a pity.

He looked at the table in the centre where the State Bar secretary was supposed to be seated. Yet on this particular day, old man Phillip Townsend was not there. He went for a dental appointment during office hours. He told me to tell visitors, if any, that he was busy with an important meeting. I acquiesced.

Since I was only a pupil in chambers, I listened to him as he was the Godfather of lawyers in Rubik despite the fact that he was no lawyer himself. He sure acted like one though. He kept the Registry List of all lawyers and he knew what everybody was up to. He could stir things up if he wanted to.

"Where the hell is Phillip?" Stoner yelled.

I remember being surprised. This was a very handsome man. Never mind the yell. Eye candy to brighten up the day was more than welcomed.

He looked like a sculpture of the Renaissance. His features were perfect. His black eyes were oval; not too big nor too small. His nose was a respectable one of average size and shape. His lips were enticing. His hair were the colour of his eyes; pitch black against a tanned complexion. And his skin was just so smooth. I need not say more; he was the prefect specimen of a man.

"He went for an important meeting." I said, catching myself in a breath after studying his beautiful features.

"Who are you?" He asked.

His eyes scanned the table. I was reading a law report on the freedom movement case. I was quite passionate about human rights, so I grabbed this particular book from the library upstairs.

"I'm on duty for legal aid." I said.

"What meeting was it?" Stoner asked.

"I don't know. I'm not his assistant." I said.

"What time will he be back?" Stoner asked further.

In my mind, I could not help but see how ridiculous the situation was. Probably after the dentist had pulled his bad teeth out. Phillip was a chain smoker and he had yellow teeth.

"He did not say." I answered.

Stoner moved towards where I was seated. He asked me to inform Phillip that he dropped by and wanted to discuss important matters concerning the promotion of legal aid. Then he headed towards the door.

"Wait, would you like to leave your name as well?" I asked.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards me. With his eyebrows raised and his chin upturned, he looked like he was in a movie played slow-motion for he held that very gesture for more than a minute.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, as if not hearing me right.

"Would you like your identity to be known to Phillip?" I asked.

I had rephrased my question because I thought my previous question was a tad rude. Thinking back, it was not very smart. I was making that impertinent question just as rude by beating around the bush.

"What?" He questioned me, scrutinizing my face for the first time.

"Who are you?" I asked, this time yet another variation of my inept lawyerly skills.

I decided to go plain, simple English.

"You don't know who I am?" He asked me.

His voice had a melodious scale range which was in tune even to the untrained ear. In that sentence of his, I heard the melody in full as he questioned me with due suspicion.

"No. Have we met?" I asked.

I studied him then. I was bad with faces. Maybe we had met somewhere before in court. I was always nervous in court and I barely noticed anyone unless they greeted me first.

"I am Stoner Corts." He said, loudly, clearly and slowly for me to hear.

He said his name in all its glory. He was so proud of himself, bordering much on ego- centricity.

"Oh." I said.

So this handsome guy was the most eligible bachelor and I was with him. It was an interesting detour to my day. So happened he was the activist lawyer in the freedom movement case.

"I'm Bea. I'm doing my internship. I'm reading about your case." I said, quickly.

I flipped him the law report which was on my table.

"You will never forget me, now?" He asked, smiling.

"No, never. Stoner Corts, I shall never forget you." I said, smiling too.

If only I knew how much then that I would never forget him.

...

Amidst the sea of black and white; possessed by those lawyers dressed in immaculately neat suits, I hoped to catch a glimpse of Stoner. It had been some time since I last saw him; maybe about six months now. I was jolted back to the present of click-clacking leather shoes when I saw Joseph walking briskly from the other end of the corridor. I headed towards him. I heaved in a deep breath. I told myself not to panic and just keep calm. That is the way one handles Joseph.

I did not have to say anything to him. His footsteps were closer to me. He leaned in and whispered into my ear.

"I got the witness." He said.

I nodded.

"Now, Bea, the judge will give his verdict in fifteen minutes. I want you to stall him in any way you can." He said.

That was an order whispered in my ear. I considered it rude and without proper direction because I need to be told exactly what to do given my inexperience.

Yet this time I was on all ears more. Rationality took over my penchant of following orders.

"If the witness is really here, there is no need to stall the judge, right?" I asked.

"She is not here yet. She is arriving soon from the airport but not before the judge can decide. Stall the judge." He said, looking at me fiercely.

"How?" I asked.

"I don't know. Just go and do something. I cannot do anything because the judge knows me. But thank God, he doesn't know you exist." He said.

"He always takes a drink before going back to court, just five minutes before. Go and wait there. You're a woman. Use that skill. " He said.

"What skill?" I asked.

"Do it!" He said, gripping my hand tight. It felt painful.

Other lawyers with their clients were walking along the corridor, paying us no attention. Everyone it seemed had more important matters.

Then just as quickly as he came, he left to make a phone call, presumably to the witness.

I just stood like a statue. This was ridiculous, I thought. I also doubted if Joseph really found the witness. The trial had been postponed thrice already on the pretext that the witness was available in the near future but we had always failed to produce her to court. The judge decided he could wait no longer with this mystery witness. So he decided to give his judgment today.

This was a forgery case. The ex-wife of our client claimed to have seen our client forge the signature of the deceased - his father-in-law; and used the documents to facilitate a transfer of land to his name. Our only defence was that he had an alibi - this mystery witness. This witness would prove that our client was in fact with her at a hotel when the forgery happened. They were having a romantic rendezvous then. She was supposed to be the girlfriend of our client.

During the trial, she never appeared though. By now I think that they were estranged. That is if she really was his girlfriend.

I did walk to the cafeteria. I ordered a cup of iced coffee. I gathered that it would help cool me down. I waited for the woman at the counter to hand me my cup.

Then a sudden realization struck me. I did not even know how he looked like. I have never attended his court. This was the first time I was here. Normally I would stay in office. Joseph called the office today and told me to get to court immediately. And here I was.

I had absolutely no idea what to do, and was perusing preparing myself to face Joseph's wrath.

The cafeteria was quite empty given that most courts were due to sit again in five minutes time. As a rather grumpy woman at the counter passed me my cup, I turned and then I hit something white.

I gave a shriek as the coffee spilled onto that body of white. Whoever it was gave a gasp too. The ice fell onto the floor, sounding like a waterfall of crystals.

"Oh, oh..." Were the only words I could muster as I gathered myself upright.

I could comprehend what was happening despite my monosyllable utterance. I felt cold all of a sudden due to the ice.

"I'm sorry. I was not looking where I was going." Said the deep voice of a man.

I looked up and saw a man bending over me. He had pale, ghastly skin. Such paleness reminded me of the undead in horror movies.

"I'm sorry again. I hope that it was not too cold." He said.

I watched him pick up the coffee cup from the floor. The woman at the counter immediately got a mop to clean up the mess while shoving us aside.

I looked at his imposing structure. I studied him now that I had taken in his want of colour. He was two heads taller than I was, in possession of broad shoulders and harsh features. His chest was as wide as his shoulders. I could not see beyond the white shirt he wore. His proportions were that of a brick wall built for the sole purpose of keeping nosy intruders out.

His skin was rough around his rigid face. A trace of stubble could be seen around his lips. These rugged qualities belonged to that of a lawless man in the Wild, Wild West; not someone you would typically see in the courts of law unless he was an accused standing trial.

His hair was in blond, messy curls which contradicted his hard disposition yet strangely they complemented his placid paleness. What caught me in full mesmerisation though were his blue eyes. They were the fire and breath of this man. These strange blue eyes lighted up this man, giving him an upper edge compared all other men that I have seen in my life.

I saw that my white blouse was now brown with spilled coffee. His white shirt was also tainted in a very dark shade of brown.

"Don't bother." I said.

"Let me make this up to you. Let me get you some new clothes." He said.

"It's not necessary, really." I said.

My words started tumbling themselves out now. I was supposed to stall the judge and now some clumsy man ends up spilling ourselves silly.

"I'm afraid I must. Now, nobody must hear from you that the judge from court two is a coffee-spiller, no?" He winked.

I did not understand his question.

"You mean that judge likes coffee too?" I asked.

He was a little taken aback. His strange blue eyes darted into mine with a sudden velocity.

Then he laughed.

Now I was taken aback, wondering if he were alright.

"I am that judge." He said, trying to stifle his laugh.

"I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself." He continued with a wry smile.

He told me his full name and gave me his hand. I reciprocated by mumbling my full name and shaking his hand. His grasp was firm and seemed forever. He held my hand for a long time; for the time he took to write a judgment it seemed to me.

I looked into his face without reservations. Against the backdrop of his pale skin, he looked out of this world. Enigmatic. His judgments were known to be fair and just.

"But you can call me Bea. Everyone calls me that." I said.

"I'll call you Beauty if it is alright with you." He said, looking straight into my eyes for the second time.

"It's a silly name. Bea is fine." I said.

"Why is Beauty a silly name?" He asked.

No one had ever asked me this question before, probably because I never told them Beauty was a silly name. I had some pride in me. Yet no one had also insisted on calling me Beauty.

"It's obvious isn't it?" I asked, smiling a bit, trying to poke fun at myself.

"That you're beautiful?" He asked.

His tone was serious. I thought I should not have smiled then.

"God, no. I mean, look at me. I'm far from beautiful. I hardly qualify." I said.

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, isn't it not?" He asked.

"Of course. That's my point." I said, wondering if we had reached some consensus.

"I am inclined to call you Beauty." He said.

It gave me an uneasy feeling. He meant every word he said.

As I looked into his eyes, I found that its depths were shrouded in a cloud of mysteriousness. Its vortex was so deep, it seemed to pull me in.

"Okay." I said, not wanting to argue with a judge over my name.

I was sure that I would never win this argument.

By this time, a few of the lawyers noticed us. Joseph, my big bad boss, stared from the transparent glass pane outside the court cafeteria. He smiled slyly at me. What had happened was too quick for me to digest. I did not stall the judge. He had stalled himself by accident. I could have sworn that he did it on purpose had he not looked so pale and weak. Maybe he was thinking a lot. That was reflected in all his judgments.

At least I had done what I was supposed to do, albeit without meaning to.

"First let me call my interpreter to tell him to inform court that I would be delayed." He said.