Foreclosure: A Novel Page 4

  “What time?”

  “Seven.” She stood to walk him out. “You have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Hilton lobby was crawling with douche bags David could picture sitting on various boards of directors with Alton Holloway. He imagined them all chatting it up on the links and knocking off early for an afternoon of fun and business at the strip club. Tonight they were all milling about the lobby, wearing Bluetooth earpieces, sipping martinis, their sports coats a size too small, most of them probably carrying an STD or two. There were lots of local lawyers there, too. David didn’t expect such competition at a Gaspar County Builders Association meeting. He found the check-in desk outside the conference-room wing.

  An attendant with long auburn hair wearing a navy business suit greeted him with a lukewarm smile. “Are you here for the bar association or the builders association?”

  The sign behind her announced meetings for both the Gaspar County Builders Association and the Gaspar County Bar Association. The latter explained all the lawyers. He would have to be careful to avoid running into anyone he didn’t want to see, which included just about any lawyer. “The Builders Association,” he said. “David Friedman. I’m a late registrant.”

  “Hmm. I had you pegged as a lawyer.”

  He took his nametag. “I wish I could take that as a compliment.”

  A minute later, he entered a sprawling ballroom large enough to hold five hundred people. The few dozen early arrivals looked lost in the enormity of the space. Desperate to take the edge off, he made a beeline for the bar in the rear of the room. The bartender informed him that only beer and wine were available—no doubt another sign of the recession. He would have to settle for a Heineken.

  Ten minutes and three beers later, having achieved some semblance of a buzz, David scanned the ballroom for familiar faces or potential leads. He saw neither. He wondered whether any of the recent arrivals could be Frank O’Reilly. They all looked the same: big strong men with money, or the appearance of money, all wearing a shiny watch on one arm and a glowing blonde wife on the other. But none resembled the few photos of O’Reilly that David had managed to find on the web.

  “Quite a scene, isn’t it?”

  David turned toward the familiar voice and saw a pudgy face he hadn’t seen since law school. “Sonny?” David remembered Sonny Kendrick as a good-enough guy with mediocre grades who’d somehow landed the highest paying job in Tampa. He looked to have packed on some weight and lost some hair, but he still had the same boyish charm that had made him popular among the stressed-out coeds during exam time. “What brings you down here?”

  Sonny gripped his own sweaty bottle of beer. “I was in court today out this way.” His accent turned redneck. “Good ol’ Gaspar County.”

  “Anything good?”

  “Just a motion to withdraw.”

  David’s ears perked up. “You don’t say. You know, the bar association meeting is next door.”

  “I know. I’m here because I have to deliver something to my client, or former client.”

  David cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t by any chance be Frank O’Reilly, would it?”

  “You know him?”

  David shrugged. “Heard of him.”

  Sonny hit his beer. “This place is worse than Miami for assholes. I don’t know how you practice down here.”

  “What was O’Reilly’s deal? Not paying your bills?”

  “I wish that were all. He’s the client from hell. That’s all I can say. And tonight I have to go deliver this order to him in person.” Sonny pulled a paper from inside his blazer. He let out a long sigh and stared around the room. “It’s almost like a funeral, isn’t it? I’m sure they booked this venue before the bust. They should call this a layoff convention.” He chugged his beer, obviously nervous about whatever he had to do tonight.

  “Which of these guys is O’Reilly?” David asked.

  Sonny was still surveying the room. “I don’t see him yet.”

  “Maybe he won’t show.”

  “He’ll show. He’s getting some kind of award.”

  “An award?”

  “Builder of the year, or some shit like that. Should be creep of the year.” Sonny’s eyes stopped in the direction of the main entrance. “Speak of the devil.” He finished his drink, set it on the table, and cleared his diaphragm with a light belch. “Let’s get this over with.”

  David downed his beer too and readied himself for the show. Sonny left David behind and headed straight for a trio who had just entered the ballroom. Leading the pack was a tall, tanned, rugged man of Scandinavian descent who wore a khaki poplar suit, a sky blue dress shirt, and metallic blue tie. With his sandy disheveled hair, he could pass for a washed-up Euro fashion model on steroids.

  Following the Scandinavian was a wide, stocky man with a buzz cut and graying goatee, who moved with a low center of gravity and the grace and gait of a rhinoceros. He wore a tailored, glossy gray suit with Ray Bans hanging around his neck. He was tanned too, but unlike the Swede’s smooth skin, his tan was rugged and worn like caramel leather. From this distance, David couldn’t tell for sure if the rhino was O’Reilly. If he was, then he’d put on about thirty pounds—not necessarily of fat—since the pictures David had found online were taken.

  Finally, a woman followed the rhinoceros, seemingly floating like an angel in a glimmering gold evening gown. Heads turned in her wake, and she was already playing the crowd like a pro. David felt his stomach flutter when he realized she was Katherine. He quelled it by humming Eric Clapton’s “Beautiful Tonight.”

  The Scandinavian stood aside, while the rhino and Katherine greeted a group of douche bags who seemed way too happy to see them. Katherine was on tonight in a big way, wearing her best smile, exuding confidence and flattery. Everyone she touched seemed to turn to gold and smile brightly. Seeing her dressed up in this light, David started to doubt why he was pursuing O’Reilly over her.

  Sonny approached the rhino with a timid familiarity that confirmed this was, in fact, Frank O’Reilly. Frank ignored Sonny, so Sonny pulled the paper from his jacket and handed it to Frank. Realizing the lawyer wouldn’t go away, Frank turned angrily and pointed to the main entrance. Sonny started to exit, while Frank smiled to his coterie and gestured to be excused. He and Katherine switched places. She stepped forward and assumed, quite smoothly, the schmoozing duties. Sonny followed Frank and the Scandinavian out the main entrance.

  Anxious to keep up, David set his beer on an empty table and exited the ballroom through a side door. He slowly turned the corner to the hallway where Sonny would have exited. He rushed to the end of the hallway and peeked around the next corner, where Sonny stood against a wall flanked by Frank and the Scandinavian. David closed in as much as possible without being seen.

  “You had no right serving this on me tonight of all nights,” Frank said with a pronounced, if not exaggerated, New England accent.

  Sonny appeared ready to run for the exit. “Reggie wanted to make sure you understand that you’ve got your full twenty days to find a new lawyer.”

  Frank nodded at the Scandinavian. “Hear that, Robbie? We have twenty days to find another scum sucker to take our money and leave us hanging dry.”

  Robbie, the Scandinavian, nodded, and Frank grabbed Sonny by the collar. “Here’s what you can tell Reggie tonight when you’re tickling his sac with your serpent’s tongue: he ever makes a peep about any of that shit he accused me of, and he’ll find himself in a world of pain. I’m not parsing words here, am I? I will break his knees. And then I’ll come after you.”

  Sonny’s face radiated fear. “It’s all privileged still. We have an understanding.” Sonny spotted David, and his eyes begged for help. Just as Frank turned to see what Sonny was looking at, David stepped back and retreated down the hallway. It was time to make sense of what he’d just witnessed. Frank O’Reilly wasn’t the first client he’d seen threaten his lawyer. Hell, David had h
eard at least three of Terry’s clients say worse. David realized his stomach was in knots, however, because Frank O’Reilly seemed like the type who might actually follow through on his threats. Maybe it was about time to give up on O’Reilly and call Terry to advise they needed to resort to plan B, whatever the hell that might be.

  David returned to the bar, which was now blocked by a line of ten people waiting for drinks. He stepped in at the end of the line.

  “Having fun yet?” He knew the voice was Katherine’s before he turned to her. She was holding a freshly poured glass of white wine.

  “If we’re being honest, I don’t know how you can stand these people.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to be honest. But I’ll let you in on a secret.” She opened her free hand to reveal a tiny white pill. “This helps.” She popped the pill and chased it with her wine. Then she rolled her eyes at David’s frown. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lawyer, I have a prescription.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  She glanced toward the front of the ballroom—at what, David didn’t know. “He just stepped out to take care of some business. I’d be glad to send him your way later.”

  “Actually, I’m having second thoughts.”

  “About what?”

  “You said you don’t mix business with pleasure. Maybe I’d rather have you than him.”

  It was her turn to frown. “Too late, buddy. I already found me a fuck toy for the night. Besides, I mentioned you to Frank. He wants to meet you.”

  The knot in David’s stomach doubled and twisted. “Are you serious?”

  She couldn’t restrain the laughter. “About everything except the fuck buddy.”

  David took a deep breath. “I’ll have to take a rain check. The office just called.” He leaned forward and dropped a long, soft kiss on her cheek. His lips clung to the elegant floral notes of her perfume, at least until she pulled away.

  “I may let you buy me a drink soon.” She turned and disappeared in the crowd.

  He surveyed the room again. There really was no reason to stick around for another drink. Nor was there a clear pathway to leave. He’d just begun weaving his way through a few groups of mingling players when he thought he heard someone saying his name.

  “Friedman!” someone whispered again. It was Sonny, and he was calling for David through a side door to the ballroom. He waved when David spotted him. “Come here already.”

  David met him in the hallway, surprised to see no blood on his face.

  “Did you see that guy?” Sonny asked. “I thought he was going to break my knees. They didn’t prepare us for that shit in law school. You ever have a client like that?”

  “Not quite.”

  “I’m heading over to the bar association meeting next door to catch up with some fuckers from law school. You coming?”

  David hadn’t been to a bar association event since he’d started practicing law. He wasn’t about to start tonight. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  “Have it your way.”

  After Sonny disappeared down the corridor, David stopped by the hotel bar for a real drink. The waiter poured him a Dewar’s, neat. He sipped his scotch, still trying to make sense of what had gone down tonight. He couldn’t throw in the towel on O’Reilly—not yet, at least. But he obviously had underestimated Frank O’Reilly. Maybe he’d need Terry’s assistance to land this one after all. But the more he thought about it, the more he found himself resisting the urge to call Terry to beg for advice. Instead, he finished a second drink and left a twenty on the bar.

  He was making his way for the exit when someone grabbed his arm. It was Katherine again.

  “Hey you, where’d you go?” He realized she was holding his arm for balance.

  “I was talking to you when you stormed off.” Whatever pill she’d taken earlier was working. Her eyes looked foggy and distant, the same look she’d had at dinner a few nights ago.

  “And I thought you had to go to the office?” There was disappointment in her eyes, too.

  “It got called off. So I grabbed another drink.”

  She tugged his arm. “Why don’t you come back with me? You can sit at our table. Frank’s getting ready to give his speech.” She tugged his belt. “Please?”

  He reminded himself that if he was going to salvage any hope of landing Pinnacle Homes, he could not leave her hanging like this. “All right. I can stay for one more.”

  He followed her into the ballroom. O’Reilly was already giving his speech at the podium. The sign behind him honored him as Gaspar County Builders Association’s Builder of the Year. The crowd’s level of applause suggested he’d been there a while, and they were as ready as he was for this to end.

  David took a seat next to Katherine. She whispered his introduction to the others at the table, but they didn’t hear her and paid David no attention.

  “Of course, to say this award is bittersweet this year is an understatement,” O’Reilly read from a notecard. “Pinnacle has been hit as hard as everyone else in the local construction industry. We’ve been forced to lay off employees, and it’s not something we’re happy about. But our investors are prepared to endure this challenge and emerge in a better position than where we started.”

  Frank wiped his brow. “In closing, I thank you for this award, which I must dedicate to our hard-working staff. And most importantly to Katherine Ann Hawkins, who has worked her tail off to make sure our books are reflecting a profit.”

  Katherine smiled at the praise, but David noticed unease hidden there as well, as if she didn’t like the attention or Frank’s speech had struck a nerve, or both.

  “So, I hope you all have a prosperous 2008. And if you or anyone you know are very prosperous this year, I encourage you to look into a unit at Gaspar Towers. I hear we still have a few of them available.” The crowd erupted with laughter and applause, probably more relieved that the speech was over than amused by what Frank had said. Nevertheless, Frank stood still for a moment and soaked in the cheers, the way an old damp sponge might soak in a Florida thunderstorm.

  As the applause started to wane, Frank returned to the table and gave Katherine a hearty hug. His eyes met David’s as he took his seat. Then Robbie, the giant Scandinavian David had seen earlier, appeared, leaned over Frank’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear. Frank kept his eyes on David while he listened. Then he nodded at Robbie and took a drink from the glass of red wine waiting for him on the table. Robbie walked away.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Frank said to David.

  David stood and introduced himself. Frank stayed seated and looked to Katherine for an explanation.

  She smiled, as though she wanted Frank to do the same thing. “He’s the lawyer I told you wanted to meet you.”

  “Is that right?” Frank said.

  David nodded. “David Friedman.”

  “He’s so cute, Frank. Can I keep him?” Katherine giggled along with the other women at the table—the table under which David wanted to crawl and die.

  “A lawyer, eh? I’m sorry to hear that,” Frank said. “You must be miserable.”

  “It could be worse,” David said.

  “How so?” Frank spoke with no levity. “I can think of no more miserable an existence than to lie, steal, and cause people headaches, and then bill your clients by the hour for it all at the end of every day.”

  David smiled, trying to play along. “Unfortunately, there are too many out there who give us a bad name.” He glanced at Katherine, who offered a weak smile of encouragement.

  “Are you a criminal lawyer?” someone at the table asked.

  “I thought all lawyers were criminals,” Frank said.

  “I love lawyer jokes,” David said. “Have a few books of them in my office.”

  Frank glared at David. “What firm are you with?”

  “Hollis & Alderman.” David reached in his jacket, and handed Frank a business card.

  Frank flipped it on the table. “Alton Holloway
’s firm?”

  David nodded. “He’s our managing partner. You know him?”

  “I’ve had a few run-ins with him.”

  David sat through an uneasy moment of silence, with Frank glaring at him and Katherine fawning over him. Then he stood. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Congratulations on your award,” he said to Frank. Then he looked to Katherine. “Good to see you again.”

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she said.

  “No, do be a stranger,” Frank said. “Please do.”

  Katherine laughed and smacked Frank’s shoulder. “He’s just kidding,” she told David. There was a weird chemistry between the two of them, definitely more than a working relationship but still devoid of romance.

  As David walked away, he heard Frank belt out a raspy guffaw and the table followed with laughter. David hoped it was a good lawyer joke.

  He sipped on another Dewar’s at the hotel bar. He needed a little more time to regroup before leaving, mainly to devise an explanation for Terry—who would be calling for an update any minute—as to why O’Reilly was a dead end. On the television above the bar, the news was telling another story about homeowners in Gaspar County going into default.

  “World’s going to hell in a handbasket,” the bartender said.

  David nodded in agreement.

  “So you want another one?”

  David eyed the thin layer of amber in his tumbler. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think too long. I close at ten.” The bartender looked David up and down. “You a lawyer?”

  David shook his head.

  “Place is crawling with them tonight.” He nodded toward the newscast on the TV. “I guess they’re the only guys making a fortune off this mess.”

  Just then, David heard a chorus of female voices in the hallway behind him. One of the voices drew him to turn. There huddled in the hallway, he noticed a few women he recognized from law school, probably leaving the bar association social. Standing in the middle of them was a face he knew too well. Beth Conner stopped in her tracks the instant she made eye contact with him. She tried to continue the conversation with the other ladies, but she was just as distracted as David. And maybe just as excited, too. She alternated her glances between David and the other lawyers.