Having no choice but to sit idly by in the galley and wait, J.D. distracted himself by focusing on Payton’s interrogation of the witness. He could tell within seconds from the way she leadingly questioned the woman on the stand that this was not a friendly party.

“I’m not sure I understand your position, Ms. Kemple,” Payton was saying. “Maybe you can help me understand what it is you believe the company did wrong.”

J.D. watched as Payton positioned herself between the jury and the witness, a trial lawyer’s trick to get the jurors’ attention during cross-examination.

“Earlier we established that you reported the incident involving your former manager on June fourteenth of last year, correct?” Payton asked.

“That’s correct,” Ms. Kemple answered.

“And the director of Human Resources responded to your complaint that very same day, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“As part of that response, the company immediately fired your former manager, also that same day, didn’t they?”

The witness nodded. “That’s correct.”

“And, in fact, yesterday at trial was the first time you had seen him since the incident in his car, correct?”

Again the witness nodded. “Yes.”

“So it’s fair to say then, Ms. Kemple, that you never again had any problems with your former manager after that one incident?” Payton asked.

The witness appeared more reluctant to answer this question. “I guess that’s fair to say,” she finally agreed.

Appearing satisfied with this answer, Payton walked over to the defense attorney’s table. Having been drawn into the testimony, J.D. noticed for the first time that a junior associate from their firm—what the hell was his name, Brandon, Brendan, something like that—sat at the table. Perhaps, J.D. mused, he could slip Brandon/Brendan a note to give to Payton.

J.D.’s eyes were drawn back to Payton as she casually leaned against the table facing the witness.

“Ms. Kemple, am I also correct that, after your manager was fired, the director of Human Resources came out to your office and conducted a full-day sexual harassment refresher seminar that was mandatory for all employees?”

The witness tried to hedge here. “I’m not sure it was a full day . . .”

“Well, how long was the seminar?” Payton asked.

Ms. Kemple thought for a moment. “I guess it was about seven or eight hours.”

“Wouldn’t you describe seven or eight hours as a full day?”

“I suppose so.”

With this admission, Payton held up her hands. “So? Why are we here, Ms. Kemple?”

The witness stared at her, confused. “Excuse me?”

“To be blunt, you’ve sued the company for two million dollars. What exactly is it that you think they did wrong in handling your complaint?”

J.D. watched Payton as she continued her cross-examination. Because they had worked in the same group for the last eight years, he had heard plenty about her numerous trial victories. But this was the first chance he’d gotten to observe her firsthand.

She was good. Right away, J.D. saw how relaxed and comfortable she was in the courtroom. Yet always professional. It was obvious that the jury liked her, and more important, they trusted her—he could tell from the way they listened attentively, how some of them even nodded along with her questions.

“Well, I think there’s a few things the company could’ve done differently . . .” the witness was saying in a defensive tone.

“Like what?” Payton asked. “You don’t disagree that the company handled the matter promptly, do you?”

As Payton asked this question, she folded her arms across her chest and casually leaned back against the table—on one foot, her left foot—for support.

J.D. drew in his breath. Oh, shit.

“I suppose they handled the matter promptly enough,” the witness conceded.

“And you would have to agree that they handled the matter effectively, wouldn’t you, seeing how you never again saw your ex-manager, let alone had a problem with him?”

Still leaning against the table, Payton crossed her right ankle over her left, so that all her weight now bore down on her left heel.

J.D. cringed. Crap, crap, this was going to be bad. He couldn’t watch. But yet he had to. Should he do something? Maybe he could—

But right then, Payton eased onto the table—taking the weight off her shoe—as the witness answered.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that the way the company chose to respond to my manager’s harassment was effective enough.”

J.D. exhaled in relief. Close call. But he had better get that note to Brandon/Brendan now, while he still had the chance. He glanced over. A few other latecomers had sat down at the end of his row. He would have to sneak past them to get out.

Meanwhile Payton, sitting on the table, gracefully crossed one leg over the other, continuing her cross-examination.

“And when the director of Human Resources interviewed you a week after the incident, didn’t you, in fact, tell her that you were pleased with the company’s response to your complaint?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think that’s what I said,” Ms. Kemple quickly replied.

Payton seemed surprised by this answer, but remained unflustered. “Really? Do you remember when we spoke earlier at your deposition, Ms. Kemple, where you said . . .”

J.D. watched as Payton searched through the files on her table and quickly found the deposition transcript she was looking for. Payton grabbed the transcript—

“Here, Ms. Kemple, let me read to you a portion of your—”

—and before J.D. realized what was happening, Payton did sort of a half leap off the table to approach the witness stand and when she came down on her feet there was a loud crack! that sounded throughout the courtroom and holy shit suddenly Payton stumbled wildly off balance, her arms flailing, and she—

—dove headfirst straight into the jury box.

The entire courtroom gasped as J.D. flew out of his seat in horror.

Oh, my god!

Everyone was on their feet, stunned, watching as Payton quickly scrambled to pull herself to a stand, grappling, climbing past the jurors who sat in their box, mouths agape, and she managed to get to her feet, a little flustered but covering as she smoothed her skirt and—

“Sorry about that.” Payton smiled calmly at the jurors, regaining her cool. “Now, where was I . . .”

She looked for the deposition transcript she had dropped, she turned around and—

—the entire audience in the galley cried out in shock.

Unbeknownst to Payton, when she had fallen her skirt—those damn slim-fit skirts she liked so much—had torn at the seam and now gaped open, and sweet Jesus, she was wearing a thong and two tiny white butt cheeks peeked out from between the folds of her skirt—

J.D.’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Oh god, it was horrible, horrible—well, actually it wasn’t all that horrible for him, she had a really great ass—but for Payton, this was a train wreck, a disaster—

Up front, Payton heard the ruckus coming from the audience behind her, so she turned around—

—and the peeky cheeks now faced the judge and jury. The jurors’ mouths dropped open, and a few murmured something incoherent, and they all gaped as Payton hobbled about the courtroom on uneven shoes, confused as to the source of the commotion.

At the defense table, Brandon/Brendan timidly whispered something to Payton; J.D. couldn’t hear it and apparently neither could Payton because she bent over toward Brandon/Brendan to hear better, exposed white buns up in the air for all to see, and the courtroom erupted in complete pandemonium and J.D. started to climb past the people in his row—he somehow had to put a stop to this—

But Payton finally heard Brandon/Brendan.

She stood up, her hand flew to her skirt, and she felt the rip in the seam. She instantly reacted; she unbuttoned her jacket and quickly tied it around her waist—no more peeky-cheeks—and J.D. heard a few groans of disappointment as the judge finally got things under control, banging his gavel and calling for order in the courtroom.

And as quickly as the chaos had erupted, things quieted back down. As people took their seats, the clamor settling, J.D. sat down, too, hiding, thinking now definitely was not the time to be seen by Payton.

As a silence took hold of the courtroom, all eyes were on Payton. Everyone waited to see what she would do, how she would react.

She paused for a moment. Then she turned and faced the jury.

“Raise your hand if you had no idea you’d see so much nudity in one week of jury duty.”

Twelve hands flew straight into the air.

And unbelievably, Payton laughed.

The jurors joined in with her. Then the judge raised his hand, too. With that, the entire courtroom laughed and people began to clap.

Payton held her hand up, acknowledging. “Thank you, thank you. I’m here all week.”

And it was in that moment, as J.D. sat in the galley with people laughing and applauding all around him, as he watched Payton smiling, embarrassed but undefeated, that it happened.

Something changed.

He didn’t know anyone who would’ve handled such a ridiculous situation nearly so well. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it before, but she was actually kind of . . . funny. Or maybe he had already known that, he suddenly wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that he had flipped out over a friggin’ coffee stain on his suit, and yet here Payton had done a full face-plant right into the laps of twelve jurors and then treated them to a free peep show, but nevertheless managed to remain calm and collected.