Foreclosure: A Novel Read online

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank.”

  “Is that so? You’re telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  David managed to push himself forward enough to stay facing Frank. “You obviously have a need for a new lawyer, or you wouldn’t have sent Robbie to pick me up.”

  “Maybe I was just desperate for some entertainment, which you’ve sure as hell been good for.”

  Frank started to laugh, but David cut it off. “No, I think you’re desperate. And you know after your last attorneys dropped you like that, you’ll have a hard time finding competent counsel to step in and do what you need done. That’s why you picked me up, Frank. You know I’m the one.”

  “And what the hell makes you think you’re the one, asshole?”

  “’Cause I know you, Frank. I know what you need.”

  “What the fuck you think you know about me, you little piece of shit?” Frank grabbed David’s shoulders, hoisted him from the ground, and dropped him against the floor. “You ever make something with your hands?” Frank looked down at his calloused paws. “I’d still be building if making money wasn’t so damn easy.” He glared at David. “You ever built something with your hands, I said?” He grabbed David’s hands and studied them. “Shit, Katherine has tougher hands than you.” He smacked David playfully on the cheek.

  “I’m tough, Frank. My hands are soft, but I’m tough.”

  “Then prove it,” Frank said. He waved Robbie over. “What do you say, Mr. Tough-Guy Lawyer?”

  “Say to what?” David asked.

  “You wanna throw blows with my Robbie?”

  “Are you serious?”

  Frank picked David up off the patio. He leaned him against the sliding door and got in his face. “I’m always serious. And here’s the rules: you two trade punches as long as you can stand it. And you have to entertain me. That simple.”

  Robbie stepped in front of David. “You go first.”

  David shook his head.

  “Then I will.” Robbie flung a jab at David’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, but with just enough force to let him know this was for real.

  David pushed himself off the door and responded with a similar lob on Robbie’s chest.

  Then Robbie hit him harder.

  David absorbed the blow and found himself grinning madly. He felt a rush of adrenaline as a flicker of fear flashed in Robbie’s eyes. He figured the Swede mistook him for some softy who spent his weekends growing up chasing Mom and Dad on the golf course. The adrenaline surged as he recalled the pain and anger he felt the last time he got his ass beat on the cold, hard streets of Newark. Then a painful memory followed: after that last ass beating, one of the last things his dad taught him before he died was how to defend himself. He channeled those feelings as he stepped into a right jab that connected to Robbie’s chest and forced him to regain his footing.

  “Nice,” Frank said. “You’re warmed up now. Next round.”

  Robbie stepped into the next blow to David’s chest, and it was David’s turn to sway a few feet.

  David took a moment to regroup and find his footing. Enough horsing around—it was time to go for the money shot. So he took a few quick steps, faked a left jab and followed it with a right hook that caught Robbie right in the ear. His head vibrated like a rung bell, but the Swede quickly brushed it off and raised his fists. Whatever fear David had seen in the Swede’s eyes had vanished, and now those eyes burned with anger and hungered for revenge.

  That was all it took to open the door for a little fear to creep in. A sense of panic overtook him as he realized that he truly was higher than he’d ever been. Then his feet locked, and what came next seemed to happen in slow motion: Robbie pulling his fist of stone back behind his right ear, and then taking two deliberate steps toward David and landing a vicious right square on David’s chin. David made no attempt to block the blow. Before he realized where he was hit, he fell to the ground with a nice thud.

  “Damn!” Frank yelled. “You must have some bad karma, mister. You believe in karma?” Frank pulled David off the ground a few inches and steadied him.

  David was ready to vomit.

  “I’ll give you the last punch,” Frank said.

  But David was too dizzy to throw a punch.

  “Hit him, Robbie,” Frank said.

  Robbie leaned into David with another fierce right. David blocked it and lofted an uppercut that missed Robbie, but then caught him with a left jab, right on the temple. Robbie winced with pain, but returned a left jab that stung David’s chin.

  Next thing he knew, David found himself lying flat on the floor again. And everything was spinning again. Right around the ceiling fan.

  At least Robbie was down too, struggling to get his own footing.

  “And I thought you were a fighter,” Frank said. “Don’t lie about your qualifications.”

  David focused on Frank, but saw three of him. Everything seemed to multiply and blur. Overhead, Robbie was standing now, squaring up for another round of boxing and taking a few practice swings.

  Robbie blurred and faded away, but then Alton appeared where Robbie was standing, his flexed guns ready to spar with David. Then Ed Savage got in line, too.

  They were all lining up to fight him. He closed his eyes.

  He wanted to vomit.

  He wanted to sleep.

  Frank muttered something about how desperate he was; how if someone was so desperate, they were the right man for the job. The right man for the job.

  He was floating now.

  Floating right off the lanai.

  David awoke to find himself prostrate under the buzz of the ceiling fan spinning overhead. He pulled himself up and looked around. There was no sign of Frank or Robbie. Even the lawn chair was gone. He wondered how long ago they’d left him.

  He tried opening the sliding glass door, but it was locked. He knocked on the door. Inside, nothing but darkness. Then he walked around the perimeter of the house, turned the front corner, and was relieved to find Robbie’s truck still parked in the driveway. Robbie appeared and threw a few bankers’ boxes of documents into the bed of the truck. David waited, peering around the corner.

  “Burn them,” Frank said. A moment later, his Lexus streaked out of the garage in a flash and, without coming to a complete stop, spun around in the street and disappeared.

  Robbie saw David standing by the garage. “I will drive you to your car.”

  On the drive back to the Hilton, Robbie still kept the air on 66. David didn’t mind it this time. Nor did he mind the silence.

  When they reached David’s car, he was ready to hop out of the truck and write Frank O’Reilly off the balance sheet of his memory.

  But Robbie stopped him and handed him a yellow envelope.

  “What’s this?” David asked.

  “Read it.”

  David opened the envelope and found a purchase contract, receipt records, and a few photos. “Who is Dr. Michael Herington?”

  “He signed a contract for a condo in the Towers. Now he wants his hundred grand back.”

  “Frank’s hiring me?”

  Robbie nodded reluctantly. “Consider this a trial run. Frank’s meeting with this guy and his lawyer Friday at one. You can show him what you got.”

  David took a closer look at the photographs. “And who is she?” He nodded toward a photo of the doctor dining with a black woman half his age.

  “We dug up a little dirt on the doctor. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

  David stepped out of the truck. No sooner had he touched the pavement than the truck disappeared. He fell into the Saab and felt he could sleep there all night. He had no idea what to tell Terry about what had happened tonight, or the upcoming audition against Dr. Herington. He picked up his BlackBerry, hoping the right words might type themselves into an email.

  Before he could start typing, though, the subject of an email in his inbox diverted his attention: RE: Meridian Bank Pitch. It was a
n email from Mackenzie. Every ounce of nausea he’d felt tonight came rushing back at once. He opened the email and noticed that Alton was copied on it.

  David,

  Reminder: we’re meeting with the folks from Meridian Bank tomorrow for lunch in Miami in their conference room. Please be on time. Alton and I will be driving separately to attend to other business in Miami. Be prepared to tell them about yourself and your practice. We need this work, and you obviously need it more than we do.

  Best,

  Mackenzie

  “Shit,” he muttered as he remembered the meeting Alton and Mackenzie had scheduled with Justin’s bank. At least David could make the drive to Miami alone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  David stared at his distorted reflection in the gleaming brass elevator door. He didn’t mind that the elevator seemed to stop on every other floor during its ascent. The delay gave him more time to remind himself that regardless of what happened today—even if Justin Baxter had made arrangements for the Miami-Dade sheriff’s office to serve that arrest warrant—Terry still loved him, and Frank O’Reilly still needed a lawyer.

  The elevator doors opened to a spacious office lobby that looked like it had been remodeled in the early 1990s. David checked in with the receptionist, who likely had been in grade school when the remodeling was finished. But she was a real pro, redirecting all incoming calls to “Ms. Hernandez-Gutierrez,” “Mr. Cardon,” and “Mr. Alfaiataria,” with perfect annunciation, or at least what sounded perfect to David. Her restrained smile was perfect, too.

  “I’m David Friedman.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Friedman. They are expecting you in the Esperanza conference room. Just around the corner.”

  David passed that corner and regretted that he hadn’t pissed before entering the lobby. With no time to do so now, he peeked through the glass door to the Esperanza conference room. Mackenzie and Alton were both typing away on their BlackBerrys. David imagined the dirty messages they were typing to each other. He’d rather be late than be alone in a room with them, so he started backtracking for the restroom. But then Alton made eye contact and waved him in.

  “Here’s Mr. Punctuality,” Mackenzie said.

  “I’m right on time.”

  Alton smiled like he was actually happy to see David. But quickly David realized he was really smiling at the bankers, who were making a grand entrance to the conference room. David took cover behind Alton.

  The first banker sported metallic silver hair and square ivory teeth. David figured he was Kirk Starwood, Meridian Bank’s general counsel. The next one introduced herself to Mackenzie as Alice Higginbotham. She had frumpy brown hair that clashed with her sleek designer suit.

  David didn’t have time to get a look at Justin before Kirk was in David’s face. “You must be David,” Kirk said as he took David’s hand. David found himself staring at the thickest head of hair he’d ever seen. He resisted the urge to touch it. “Justin spoke very highly of you.”

  David hid his surprise. “I’m glad to hear Justin’s still an honest man.”

  Kirk belted out a hearty laugh while David greeted Alice, whose grip was twice as strong as Kirk’s. Ahead, Mackenzie was pecking Justin’s cheek and whispering something in his ear—perhaps telling him she hoped he’d enjoyed the severance package they paid to better everyone’s interests during these most difficult of times.

  David finally got a good look at Justin when his old buddy shed Mackenzie and locked right hands with Alton. Surprisingly, Justin was a caricature of the man David expected to see today. He didn’t look relaxed, underworked, or oversexed. Instead, he slouched with the composure of an indentured servant who had just finished a tour of duty for a mercenary army. And not only had he sprouted a nascent double chin, but his lips were bloated and gray crescents hung below his eyes.

  Alton rubbed Justin’s right trap while he spun him in David’s direction, as though he were getting ready to introduce him to his future bride. Instead, it was only the man whose bride Justin had stolen.

  Justin and David flirted with eye contact. “How are you, old sport?” Justin asked.

  “I’m great. And you look great too. You really do.”

  “Well,” Kirk said, “you two kids can catch up later. What do you say we get some lunch?”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Alton said. He stood back and let the others exit the conference room. As David approached, Alton patted him on the back and rubbed his shoulder with longer strokes than he’d given Justin. Alton clearly lived for these moments. David felt as though his flesh were eating itself.

  Lunch began with talk of the mundane. Alton spun tales about his latest outings on the golf course, while Mackenzie provided perfectly timed color commentary. The two operated like a well-calibrated duo broadcasting on ESPN, and Kirk and Alice were eating up every minute of the variety hour. For all David could tell, Justin was too. David wondered whether Alton and Mackenzie worked so well together because they were sleeping together, or whether they were sleeping together because they worked so well together.

  David had nothing to contribute to the entertainment. He knew he was really the one under the spotlight. But any time he found an opportunity to speak—like the mention of how the Marlins fared on opening day, what a Democrat in the White House would mean for big-bank litigation, or whether Bush should face charges for war crimes—the conversation had already changed topic before David could articulate something to say. And now, so much time had passed with him saying nothing that the only thing more awkward than his silence would be for him to finally start talking.

  It soon became clear that Mackenzie was going to force David to participate. She looked him dead in the eyes and then changed the topic of conversation to Justin and how much they missed him at the firm.

  Kirk ate that up, too. “We are very happy to have Justin onboard,” he proclaimed. David would have to know Kirk much better to opine whether his statement was sincere.

  “We’re so pleased to hear that,” Mackenzie said.

  “I guess we trained him well,” Alton added.

  “Indeed you did. He’s a big asset to the bank.” Kirk smiled proudly.

  David looked to his old buddy. “And I bet you don’t miss the billable hours either, do you?” A few seconds passed before David realized his question had deflated the room.

  Justin feigned a smile. “Though I’m working just as hard as I did at the firm, I can’t say that I do.”

  “The good news,” Kirk said, “is that Justin will be overseeing our portfolios in southwest Florida. We have dozens of loans in workout right now, and we anticipate at least half of them will be in litigation by the end of the year.”

  “Well, that’s why we brought David.” Alton glanced at Mr. Of Counsel.

  Kirk locked eyes with David. “I know I said it once, David, but Justin has the highest praise for your work. We are close to concluding that you are the right guy, the guy, to handle this litigation.”

  David felt warmth on his brow, like the hot flashes he suffered when he’d drink red wine and stout on an empty stomach. The man whom two months ago David considered his best friend, and who subsequently stole the woman David thought he wanted to marry, now wanted to throw David enough work to make him the youngest equity partner at Hollis & Alderman.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Justin said to David.

  “Look at you. Your own portfolio. How is she?” David asked.

  Mackenzie grimaced. “I’m sure Justin’s portfolio is very diverse.” She offered Alice a kids-will-be-kids smile.

  “She’s fine,” Justin said.

  “When’d you see her last?” David asked.

  “This morning.”

  Mackenzie cleared her throat. She glanced around the table and leaned over to whisper. “If you’re going to talk about anything confidential, maybe you should go to Justin’s office.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Justin said. “I’m not hungry. Are you, David?”

&n
bsp; As the door to Justin’s office closed, David realized that Justin’s new gig really was quite the demotion. Half the size of a junior associate’s at Hollis & Alderman, Justin’s office was a notch above a cubicle: one window that a malnourished prisoner couldn’t escape out of, and office furniture that could have been bought used at a dorm sale. And the look of dejection on Justin’s face screamed that he was working longer hours and feeling more stressed than he ever had in private practice. And he was probably making a fraction of the salary, on top of the higher cost of living in Miami.

  “Nice office,” David said. He scanned the walls for photos of Lana.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, David. There’s an elephant in the room bigger than either of our egos. And we both know her name.”

  “You saw her this morning?”

  “That’s right. At breakfast.”

  “You met for breakfast?”

  “In our dining room.”

  “Like your collective dining room?”

  Justin nodded. “We live together.” He gave David a moment to digest the news.

  But David had known this was coming. He’d already searched the Miami-Dade County property records and learned what a great deal Justin had gotten on a condo short-sale a few months ago. The deed and mortgage were solely in his name, and Lana shared the address. “You picked a good time to buy.”

  “Next year would have been perfect. But I had to play the cards I was dealt.”

  “Don’t we all? She knows you’re seeing me today?”

  Justin nodded.

  “And she’s fine with that?”

  “I don’t know about ‘fine,’ but she wants us to handle this like adults.”

  “It okay then if I ask a few things?”

  “Shoot.”

  Two months ago, David would have barraged Justin with a frenzy of questions. When was the first time you slept together? When was the first time you kissed? Does she call you tiger? While his interest in the answers to these questions had significantly waned in recent months, his resentment toward Justin had not. “Are you treating her right?”