Ricardo stared at Lavanda as she struggled to place the cap on his Styrofoam cup. He marveled at her beauty. Her eyes captivated him the most. Behind her unnaturally long eyelashes were dark blue irises that gave off vibes of equal parts wonder, confusion, and naivety with a pinch of mischief. At times, Lavanda reminded Ricardo of a lost puppy, a very attractive lost puppy.

“Here’s your triple latte, Ricky,” announced Lavanda as she handed him the cup, the lid slightly askew.

“Thanks, Lavanda,” replied Ricardo. He placed his phone against the reader and entered the desired amount for the tip. He took a very deep breath before speaking again. “You know, we keep talking about doing something together sometime. Why don’t we make plans to go out or something?”

“That would be great,” said Lavanda. “As a matter of fact, I’m having a little get-together at my place tonight. It’s Court Night, you know.”

“I usually go to the gym and lift on Wednesdays,” explained Ricardo. He nonchalantly pulled up the sleeves on his tight-fitting t-shirt and subtly flexed his biceps.

“That’s too bad. It would be a lot of fun.”

Ricardo considered his options. It would be nice to have a chance to charm Lavanda. While he would have preferred to have a little one-on-one time with her, a small gathering wouldn’t be the worst thing. Plus, it would mean that he wouldn’t have to worry about footing the bill for a date. Even with his recent promotion at the data input center and its accompanying pay raise, he was still finding it difficult to keep his bank balance in the positive from one payday to the next.

“Okay,” he finally announced, “you’ve got a deal. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Great,” smiled Lavanda. “I’ve got your number from the last time you asked me out. I’ll text you my address.”

“Hey, quit gabbing and get me my coffee,” called an older man, who was at least thirty, from the ever-growing line of untended customers.

“I’d better get back to work,” said Lavanda with a slight giggle.

Ricardo stepped aside and began sipping his drink, which was most definitely not the triple latte he had ordered but some sort of pumpkin-spice flavored concoction.

“I have a black coffee for a Guy with Big Lips,” shouted Lavanda.

The elderly gentleman who had shouted earlier stepped forward. “I ordered a coffee, but my name’s Roger.”

“Oh, right,” said Lavanda. “I had forgotten your name, so I just wrote ‘Guy with Big Lips’ on the cup.” She extended a cup with a crooked lid. “You are definitely the guy with big lips,” she added.

“Give me that,” snarled the old man. He held his phone over the pay station.”

“Don’t forget to tip,” said Lavanda with a smile.

From his vantage point off to the side, Ricardo found himself grinning also.

***

“Come on in,” said Lavanda, batting her eyelashes. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Ricardo stepped into Lavanda’s small apartment. The place was packed. There had to be at least a dozen young adults, all males, scattered about the two rooms. Every guest there was completely focused on their phone.

“So,” continued Lavanda, “help yourself to a drink.” She pointed to a small table that held a stack of Styrofoam cups and two small urns. “I got lucky today. We had almost a whole container of pumpkin spice latte and about half a jug of dark roast left over.” Grabbing a cup from the stack, she handed it to Ricardo.

“Uhh, I’m okay,” said Ricardo, noticing that the words ‘Guy with Big Lips’ were written on the cup.

“Oh, don’t worry,” laughed Lavanda, “I had Maliki rinse them all out when he got here. He always gets here early. I’m sure they’re clean enough.” She directed Ricardo’s gaze toward a nerdy-looking guy sitting on the couch, who wiggled his hand as if to say, “Maybe.”

Ricardo recognized Maliki. They had crossed paths once or twice before. He didn’t really like Maliki, mostly because Maliki really liked Lavanda.

“What kind of party is this?” asked Ricardo. “Where’s the music? Everyone’s just looking at their phones.”

“Of course, silly,” answered Lavanda. “I told you that tonight was Court Night.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have Courtbook.”

“Oh, you mean the app. I downloaded it when it first came out, but I’ve never looked at it.” He pulled out his phone and started swiping side to side. “I don’t see it right now.”

“It’s probably in your idle app folder,” interrupted Maliki. The little nerd grabbed the phone out of Ricardo’s hand.

Ricardo marveled at how such a tiny twerp could make him feel so small. Instinctively, he straightened to his full height and puffed up his bulging muscles.

“Here it is,” announced Maliki, handing the phone back to Ricardo. “I found it.” There was an obvious smugness to Maliki’s tone.

“Great,’ said Lavanda. She snatched the phone and opened the app. Wrapping her hand around Ricardo’s arm, she pulled him close and explained. “You see, there are three sections to Courtbook. The first is for civil suits.” She pointed to the screen. “See, I have seventy-six cases this week, mostly just suing for larger tips. The cases are all closed at ten o’clock, so on Wednesdays I get a bunch of friends together and we all vote for me.”

“What happens if you win a case?” asked Ricardo.

“I get the money, of course, silly. The funds are automatically shifted from the account of the person I sued to me.” She returned the phone. “All you need to do is go to each of my suits and vote for me. I’ve already opened it to the page with all my cases on it.”

Ricardo examined the screen. Each of Lavanda’s cases was displayed with a short paragraph describing the lawsuit. Beneath that was a section where Lavanda presented her case with a short video and a second section where the person being sued was given the opportunity to respond; most of the second sections were blank. Finally, each case had two buttons featuring the names of the litigants.

“So, this is all legally binding?” asked Ricardo.

“Of course,” answered Maliki, who for some reason was still hovering around Lavanda. “Courtbook has made lawsuits way easier and less of a hassle.”

“Wait a second,” said Ricardo. He turned to Lavanda. “Four of these suits are against me. I’m a good tipper.”

Lavanda shrugged. “Nothing personal. I mean, you’ve never posted a defense, so I figured you were just being nice to me.” She batted her eyelashes.

“I didn’t even know you were suing me.”

“I bet all your notifications are going into your spam folder,” suggested Maliki. “You should really pay better attention.”

“You’re telling me that I’ve been being sued by God knows how many people for the last six months and I never had a chance to defend myself.”

“Well, technically, you have had the opportunity, you just weren’t aware of it.” Maliki grabbed the phone again. After a few seconds, he announced, “Looks like you were sued twenty-one times this week.”

“Hey, guys,” interrupted Lavanda, “It’s getting late. Ricardo has a lot more voting to do for me. After you finish with the civil suits, you can go to the next part of Courtbook. It’s the AITA section.”

“The what?”

“The Am I the…”

“I know what it stands for. What is it?”

“Oh, it’s the part of Courtbook that deals with social arguments.” Continuing the game of hot potato with Ricardo’s phone, she took it from Maliki and opened a new section of the app. “If you are having a disagreement with someone, you can state your side of the story. See, here’s a section where I defend myself for unfriending Mari because she bought a dress just like the one I had just gotten. Well, it wasn’t exactly like mine, I mean, the skirt was a bit longer and the top had sleeves. But other than the color it was definitely the same basic design as mine.”

Ricardo shook his head. “Why even bother with suing over that?”

“It’s not really a lawsuit,” interjected Maliki.

“Yeah, it’s just a chance to prove that I was right,” said Lavanda. “Plus, every time you win an AITA case, you get five dollars.”

Ricardo took back his phone. “Still doesn’t seem worth it to me.”

“It’s not about the money,” explained Lavanda. “It’s about pride. Last week I made $60 in AITA cases.”

“$5 doesn’t seem like much. Is it really worth losing a friend?”

“Oh, she lost me as a friend the minute she ordered that dress.”

“It’s ten minutes to ten,” announced Maliki loud enough for the entire room to hear. “Better get in all your last-minute votes.”

“Wait a second,” said Ricardo. “Didn’t you say there were three parts to Courtbook?”

“Yeah, but the last one doesn’t have anything to do with me,” replied Lavanda. “It’s for actual criminal cases.”

“You mean they use the app for criminal trials?”

“Sure,” said Maliki, “it saves a lot of time and money.” He seized Ricardo’s phone and quickly brought up the criminal trial page. “Hey, wait a second. You’re on here, Ricardo.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re being charged with assault. It looks like you’re facing a penalty of 90 days in jail.”

Ricardo ripped his phone from Maliki’s grasp. “What are you talking about?”

Sure enough, at the top of the page was a statement of the charges. Below it was a video statement from a man accusing Ricardo of knocking him to the ground at the gym last Wednesday night.

“I didn’t assault him,” said Ricardo, defensively. “I needed to get one more rep in on the free weights, and I saw this really old dude trying to get ahead of me. He must have been at least thirty-five. I was just rushing to the weight station and I accidentally bumped into him. He tripped over a barbell and fell down. It was pretty funny.”

“You should have posted a defense video,” said Lavanda. “You don’t have a chance of winning the vote if you don’t speak up for yourself.”

“I didn’t even know I was being charged.”

Maliki stole the phone and examined the screen. “Hey, you still have a little hope. I’m reading the comments. It appears that the person accusing you does this all of the time. He makes all sorts of accusations, and a bunch of the regulars on Courtbook don’t like him, so they voted against him. You’re only eleven votes behind.”

“Great,” shouted Ricardo. “Hey, everybody, go to the criminal charges page of the app and vote for me in my criminal case.”

The other men in the apartment all began scrolling on their phones.

“If Maliki and I vote for you,” interjected Lavanda, “that should be enough for you to win. Unless the other guy gets another vote.”

“Give me my phone. I’ll vote for myself.”

Maliki passed the phone back to Ricardo. “You can’t vote for yourself. That would be making a mockery of the judicial system.”

Suddenly, all the phones in the room chimed. The variety of ringtones, bells, and soundbites created an odd cacophony.

Ricardo glared at his phone. “Well, did I win?”

“We won’t know for another half hour,” said Lavanda. “First, we have to wait for all the advertisements to run. Have some pumpkin spice latte and relax.”

***

Twenty-nine minutes later, there was a knock on Lavanda’s door. She opened it to find two uniformed police officers.

“We are here to take Ricardo Anderson into custody,” one of them announced. “His phone GPS says he is here.”

“Yup,” said Maliki, “he’s right over there.” The five-foot nothing nerd pointed at Ricardo.

“But that can’t be,” whined Ricardo. “I had enough votes to win.”

Once again, everyone’s phone beeped, indicating that the results were now available. As one of the officers grabbed Ricardo by the arm, Ricardo looked at the polling results. “I lost by one measly vote. The other guy didn’t get any new votes. That means someone here didn’t vote for me.”

The screen on Ricardo’s phone suddenly blinked red, and the Courtbook app page was replaced with black and white text spelling out Ricardo’s Miranda Rights.

“Just click the ‘I accept’ button,” instructed the officer who was slowly pulling Ricardo towards the door.

“But… but… I didn’t…”

Lavanda, Maliki, and the rest of the young men in the apartment never heard the end of Ricardo’s sentence. The officers rushed Ricardo into the hall and closed the door.

“Well, he’s not going to be around for ninety days,” said Maliki, a smug grin set on his face.

“I know. I’m going to miss the extra tip income,” said Lavanda. “I do feel pretty bad for him, though. He’s a nice guy. It’s too bad somebody here didn’t vote for him.”

Maliki nodded slowly. “I guess.” After a moment, he added. “You know what might make you feel better? Why don’t you and I go out tomorrow night? There’s a hot new group playing at the club across from the coffee shop.”

————

James Rumpel is a retired high school math teacher who enjoys spending some of his free time trying to turn the odd ideas circling his brain into actual stories. He lives in Wisconsin with his wonderful wife, Mary, though it should be noted that if her name was Wanda the alliteration would be most impressive.