Outlaws

by Tim Green

  To Board it sounded like a scream. He froze. Keep going? Stop? Don't look their way? They saw him.

  "Shit," he said under his breath.

  "Mr. Board," the receptionist said, "these gentlemen have been waiting for you."

  Board put on his most dire and concerned countenance and turned to face Cody Grey and Marty Cahn. Cahn was holding out his hand. Grey had no expression on his face whatsoever. Board took the lawyer's hand, giving it his tightest grip to see what kind of a man the sharply dressed lawyer really was. Board believed that a real man shook hands firmly. Marty was caught off- guard and got his fingers crushed.

  "Hello, Mr. Board," Marty said. "I'm Marty Cahn, and this is my client, Cody Grey."

  "Well," Board said with a scowl, too nervous to enjoy the fact that Cahn had called him mister, "you'd better follow me."

  Board thanked God he had the file with him in his briefcase. He hadn't gotten much done at home the night before,- he'd spent more time deciding if he should wear his gray suit or his blue suit. But he'd taken the file home, so he had it now.

  The player and his agent followed Board silently as he waddled toward the other end of the office where Patti's conference room was located. Board opened the door importantly and took two steps into the room.

  The people who were in there stared at him with unabashed hostility. Patti's face turned red. Three people from Washington and office directors from around the state sat around the long table. Patti mashed out a Marlboro Light and exhaled her words.

  "Jeff," she said, an exasperated edge to her voice, "I think you're in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Board was humiliated. He backed out with a few gruff apologies and tried his best to act as if some secretary's head was going to roll for the mistake Frantically he tried to think of a place to go. Then he had it.

  Loreen stood up from her desk as he filed past with Cody and Marty.

  "Mix-up with the conference room," Board said to her importantly, as if to suggest that she had been the errant fool causing the mix-up. He walked right by without giving Loreen a chance to protest, shutting the door behind them and making out as if the office were his own.

  "Sit down, gentlemen," he said pompously, getting himself between them and the front of Patti's desk to turn the name plate on its face before they could read it.

  Marty hesitated to sit. The stink of cigarettes was overwhelming, and it looked as if smoke had left a film of grime on all the furniture. He wanted to keep Board as happy as he could, though. He needed to soften him up in any way that was possible.

  Board got himself behind the desk, sat down, and peered threateningly at Marty and Cody over the stack of papers that covered his boss's desk. Grey, the son-of-a-bitch, looked right back at him. He was so fucking cocky. Then, for a split second Board got nervous, thinking that Patti could walk in and make him look like a real fool.

  "Well," Marty said, realizing that the IRS agent was not going to get things started in the near future, "would you like me to tell you our position, Mr. Board, so we can try to come to some kind of reasonable understanding with all this?"

  'You think there's a reasonable understanding?" Board said with a nasty smile as he reached self-consciously to feel if the toilet paper was in place, or if he was bleeding. "I don't think your position can be much of anything but ... but a bad position."

  "Yes," Marty said calmly, "we realize that fully. You are absolutely right. This is a gross oversight--"

  "1 wonder about that," Board snapped, wanting more than anything for Cody Grey to snap back, to react to something, to lose it. But he didn't see fear. He didn't even see concern. The son-of-a-bitch was sitting there calmly, like this whole thing was some kind of a joke.

  "I have to say, Mr. Board," Marty continued as amiably as possible, "that our position for the record is that Mr. Grey did not intentionally misrepresent his income to the government."

  Board was sweating under his amis now. He hated the smell of fear. He wasn't supposed to be afraid. He wasn't supposed to be nervous here! It enraged him. Everything was going wrong.

  "I'd like to hear what Mr. Grey has to say," Board said, sticking out his chin, just daring Marty to contradict him on this one.

  Cody looked at Marty. Marty didn't really have a choice but to tell his client to go ahead. That Board was acting like a pompous ignoramus was just hard luck. Once an IRS agent had your client's file, you dealt with him. If the word ever got back that you'd gone over his head, you'd better pray that the higher-up agreed that the agent had drastically exceeded his authority. But the IRS had so much autonomy, and the agents so much leeway, that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, bucking protocol only made things much worse for your client. Marty looked from Board to Cody, then shrugged and nodded, signaling Cody to go ahead.

  Cody looked at the slovenly IRS agent. His gray suit was old and rumpled. The bright red tie hadn't been popular for ten years. The knot was oft-center. Board's skin was so pale, it had a green tint to it, and his long, dark hair was so greasy and stringy that Cody could think of nothing but a Saturday Night Live skit with the Lupeners.

  Then Board absently rubbed his chin, pulling off the tattered piece of toilet paper and exposing a crusty blotch of blood that began to ooze. Board panicked. Cody thought the man's face was too funny. He bit the inside of his mouth to repress a smile. Board caught the glimpse of a smirk, though. The IRS agent turned beet-red.

  "I just didn't remember about the card money," Cody said calmly, as though nothing had happened. "I signed a deal with them back when I was a rookie, and I never got any forms or anything."

  "You just got a check?" Board said with as much sarcasm as he could muster, pulling what looked like a used tissue from his pocket and dabbing the beads of blood running down his chin. "Did you forget that five thousand dollars a year?"

  Cody looked at Marty, then back at Board before saying, 'Yes."

  "Well, you're a pretty forgetful guy, aren't you?" Board said, as though he were talking to a ten-year-old child.

  Cody clenched his fists and held them tightly against his legs. He looked over to Marty for help. Cody didn't take that kind of talk from coaches, men who he knew could rip the balls off a bull with their teeth. This pile of shit and blubber was way out of line. Marty held up his hand to Cody, trying to keep him calm. He knew by the expression on Cody's face and from his buds language that he was starting to lose his composure.

  "Just a minute," Marty said, standing up and gesturing with both hands to hold back the storm that was going to break. "Maybe, Mr. Board, you'd like to put down on paper your position so I can review it, then we can go from there. We could talk about it next week."

  Board rose suddenly. "I wanted you--him--here today, and I want to hear what he's got to say for himself before I begin what I think will be a very damaging investigation." Board calmed himself before he displayed a malicious smile. "Very damaging."

  "Mr. Board," Marty said with a judicious tone in his voice, "I've dealt with the IRS before, and I have to say that this is highly irregular. It sounds as though your only purpose in bringing us here was to tell us that you are going to commence a field audit no matter what we have to say in our defense."

  "Well, I'm not regular, Mr. Cahn," Board sneered. "I'm not falling all over myself to make you happy because your client is a professional football player. I don't scare so easy, Mr. Cahn." Board's voice cracked, but he gave Cody a challenging look. "I... don't... scare."

  Cody stood abruptly. He looked at Marty and snarled, "I'm out of here."

  'You'll sit down!" Board yelled. 'This is my office! This is my meeting!"

  Cody leaned toward Marty and through gritted teeth said, 'You tell this guy to steer clear of me, Marty. You tell him ..." Cody's voice trailed off as he chose between his fists and the door.

  Then he walked past the gawking agent and out of the office.

  "We'll see if you walk out when this goes to a triall" Board bellowed after him, knocking a pile o
f papers off of his boss's desk as he waved his arm at Cody's back. "I'm prosecuting this to the fullest extent of the lawl My next call is to the U. S. attorney's office! You think you're above the law? No one is above the law!"

  Marty turned and walked out as well. The man was clearly crazy. He'd have to regroup. The whole thing had fallen apart in a way that was entirely mad. He hurried to catch up to Cody.

  When they were gone and his breathing was almost back to normal, Board knelt down and carefully picked up the scattered papers, replacing them as neatly as he could on the desk. Then he walked cautiously out of Patti's office.

  "Oh, man," Loreen said, "Patti's not gonna be too happy about that."

  "About what?" Board said arrogantly.

  "About you just barging into her office and yelling like some kind of nut. Everyone heard you, you know."

  Board looked around and caught a dozen faces turn and flit in every direction but his. "I don't care if everyone heard," he said, hitching up his pants and glaring down at Loreen. "And as far as Patti goes, when she gets out of that meeting, you tell her I need to see her. I'm gonna put this office on the front page of every paper from here to New York. You tell her that."

  Marty could do nothing to calm Cody down. The man was seething with rage. Cody tried to explain to Marty that his anger wasn't a bad thing, that he had practice that afternoon, and he'd work it out there.

  'The truth is," Cody said when Marty stopped on the street where Cody had parked his pickup truck, "I'm the best player I can be when things are going bad. It transfers for me, Marty. Some people, things go bad in their life and they fold. They can't keep focused. They lose their fire. Me? I get twice as mean and I play twice as good. It's always been that way with me."

  Cody looked over at his agent to see if he understood. Marty nodded as if he did, but in reality he was thinking about things more important than what happened on the football field. Marty wondered if Cody understood the significance of what had just happened and how dire the circumstances had become.

  Cody turned his gaze to the bustling street in front of them. "Maybe that's why I married Jenny," he said, as if speaking to himself.

  Marty could say nothing to that. He'd contained his feelings about Cody's wife since the day they first met. He had strong opinions about women who flaunted their looks and bodies, seeking attention from every man within a mile's radius. He'd seen Jenny's sidelong flirtatious smiles at men in restaurants and at his own office. He'd watched as she spent the couple out of any savings they might have had. But he knew better than to ever talk bad about a client's spouse, even if a divorce looked imminent. It was a good way to lose clients. He wasn't going to start now.

  Cody didn't bother to look for Marty's reaction. He simply opened the door and climbed out of the car.

  "Fuck that guy, Marty," Cody said, leaning in from the street, his mind obviously back on the IRS. "Pull out all the stops. He's going to take this to the limit, so let's kick him in the balls. I've got some connections. People know me. Let's use every favor we've got.

  "Look," Cody said with a note of humor that he didn't really feel, "worst comes to worst, I go to the federal hotel for a couple of months and write an autobiography. I'm not going to let this guy fuck with me, Marty. I know the worst he can do, and I'm ready to handle it."

  Marty wanted to tell Cody that this wasn't a football game. It wasn't a matter of blitzing every play, and if you lost, well, there was always next week or next year. This was much more serious than that. Marty opened his mouth to speak.

  "Let me know," Cody snapped, then he was gone.

  Marty pushed his glasses back up his nose and watched Cody climb into his truck before he put his own car into gear. It was going to be a long day. Board was going to make this whole thing a long drawn-out affair, and Marty was going to have to go by the book. He had a client who was used to smashing opponents, and an opponent who held all the cards. It was a bad combination. Cody didn't realize what Marty knew for a fact, that the IRS didn't deal. Favors and chummy promises were best left at the door. The IRS took pride in being impervious to any outside influences.

  Because of the Cody Grey situation, Marty worked later than normal, even though he was supposed to have dinner with Madison at eight o'clock. He pulled into her driveway at eight-thirty. Madison wasn't one to get too excited about being late, so he really didn't worry about it. He got out of his car and pulled at his dark suit as he walked up to the door. He was still wearing the same clothes from that morning, and he felt stiff and sticky. If he hadn't been late already, he would have gone back to his apartment and changed. Even though Madison wouldn't be angry about his being late, he knew that after a certain point she would just tell him she'd take a rain check. But he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to get her opinion on Cody Grey's predicament. Madison had good instincts, even regarding areas of the law outside her expertise. If it had to do with people, Madison was a good sounding board.

  Marty rang the bell, and after a minute Jo-Jo opened the front door. Jo-Jo looked up at Marty, squinting because of the overhead porch light. Marty could see Lucia's head pop around the corner to see who was there.

  "Hey, Jo-Jo," Marty said in his best eight-year-old voice.- "How's it going, buddy?"

  "Good," said Jo-Jo. He had a red Power Ranger toy in one hand and an authentic looking Glock replica in the other. Marty was surprised that Madison allowed the gun and wondered if it had come from Joe. He knew Madison had conceded to temporary visitations after realizing there was no way to explain to an eight-year-old why he couldn't see his father. Marty stepped into the house and shut the door quickly to keep the mosquitoes from launching a full-scale invasion.

  "So," Marty said, eyeing the gun, "how's school?"

  "Good."

  "Great," Marty said.

  "Marty?" Jo-Jo said, looking, up at the tall, lanky tax lawyer, "did you ever play football?"

  Marty pushed his glasses up and blinked. He kneeled down next to Jo-Jo and tousled his hair.

  "Well, buddy," he said, "I played a little, but not too much. It really wasn't for me."

  "1 mean, you were never an Outlaw, right?" Jo-Jo said.

  "No," Marty said with a good-natured chuckle, "I wasn't. I'm an agent for a lot of the Outlaws, but I never played for them."

  "Oh," Jo-Jo said, then he turned and walked off into the house.

  Marty smiled, but he felt strangely uncomfortable. Why should an eight- year-old's innocent question bother him? Maybe it was because Marty felt other people had wondered the same thing about him, and concluded he wasn't quite man enough. That's what it was about, being a man. Marty suspected that this question had originated with the boy's father. Big Joe had always divided men into two categories, those who were players and those who weren't. Agent or not, Marty had always been somewhat of an outsider in the world of football, especially since he'd never played, not even for fun.

  The sight of Madison cut his thoughts short. She looked absolutely beautiful. She'd let her hair down and was wearing just a touch of eyeliner and lipstick. She wore a new black cotton summer dress. It was short enough to show off her shapely legs.

  "Why are you down there on the floor like that?" she asked him.

  Marty straightened up and took a step toward her.

  "Cod, Madison," he said, "you look--you look gorgeous."

  "Thank you, Marty," Madison said, blushing slightly.

  "What's the occasion," Marty said, hoping in the back of his mind that she was doing this for his benefit.

  "None, really," she sighed. "You know me, Marty. Sometimes I just get tlnec1 of being the drab female attorney. I just felt like looking good. That's all."

  "Well," he said, looking at his watch, "I know I'm late, but I called snd they're holding our table."

  "Good," Madison said. "1 need a night out. I'm getting tired of criminals and jails and drug addicts and killers. A civilized dinner is just what 1 need."

  Marty opened the door, and Madison called
one last good-night to her son and Lucia before stepping out into the darkness.

  After they had been seated at their table and ordered a couple of drinks, Marty began to recount for Madison what had happened that morning at the Federal building. When he was finished, they ordered dinner.

  "Well, it sounds to me like your client pushed the wrong buttons with this IRS guy," Madison said when the waiter left.

  "Haven't you been listening?" Marty said defensively. "Cody didn't do a damn thing! It was unadulterated hatred. Why? I've never seen anything like it. It was as if Cody had done something to this guy personally."

  "Maybe he did," Madison suggested.

  "He didn't," Marty said. "I asked him. He's never seen the guy or heard of him or known anyone who had anything to do with the IRS."

  "Marty, think about it," Madison said. "Cody Grey may have punched this guy's lights out one time and not even remember it."

  "Oh, come on," Marty said. "Cody's not like that. You know damn well that people aren't always what they appear to be."

  "I know you think all your clients are great guys, Marty," she said, "but they're not."

  "Come on, Madison," Marty protested, "don't you think you're reacting to your own experience with Joe? These guys aren't like Joe. Cody is not like him."

  "Please, Marty," she said, rolling her eyes. "How can you say that? All you have to do is read the papers to know Cody Grey is a crime waiting to happen. How many times has Rick Capozzo cranked up the civil litigation department to settle with some guy whose nose Cody Grey broke? Ten times?"

  "Not ten," Marty said sullenly. 'Three."

  "Okay, three," Madison said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm sony. Just think, if Van Rawlins wasn't such a good Texan how much trouble you would have had. If they'd prosecuted your guy for all those punches, he could be doing two to four right now."

  "Unless you were his lawyer," Marty said with a smirk. "God forbid," she replied. "Someone like that just gives off bad vibes, Marty. If he didn't punch out the IRS guy or one of his close relatives, or something crazy like that, to cause the guy to have a grudge, he probably shook the guy up by the way he looked at him. Talk to the IRS guy tomorrow. Give him some time to settle down. He'll be easier to deal with without some thug like Cody Grey sitting there staring at him."