by James Ross
“And when you get close to closing in, a friend of a friend makes a visit or a political crony picks up the phone.”
“You don’t need to tell me about it. It’s the same with me.”
“And scamming the justice system perpetuates itself.”
“With enough to keep us both busy.”
“Yeah, right,” Willie said. “We get to run full speed ahead down a narrow alley only to hit a brick wall.”
“Any good files you can talk about?”
“Always. That never stops. But they’re all confidential.”
“We can talk in hypotheticals.”
“Most of mine end up the same. We’re there because of the members of the state bar.”
“Sort of like putting the rooster in charge of the hen house?”
Willie laughed. He could always count on Jake to give some sort of analogy to the farm. “To create an admirable image for the public they have decided to police themselves. That way they can make the citizens think that they honestly care. They stick it to them, backpedal, then say that they’ve got a handle on the situation and are really concerned about the public’s well-being.”
“Kind of like decorating a scarecrow by placing a corn cob up his ass.” They laughed. “You think he looks better but never know if he feels the pain.”
“One big problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Lawyers don’t have feelings.”
Chuckles followed. “And judges know no pain.”
“These guys are aware that I’m hired by them. If the heat gets too hot in the kitchen, and that’s after months and months of delays, they’ll simply stop paying their dues. The bar can also suspend their law license. If they’re not dues-paying members then they’ll face no disciplinary action from us. These guys pull that crap on me all the time.”
“You’re as powerless as water running upstream.”
“Very frustrating. The only thing it does is pay the mortgage.”
Jake finished his beer and motioned to the bartender to serve two more. “Consider this. I’m talking about judges now. It’s hypothetical.”
“Yeah, right.”
Jake winked. “We have three judges in the appellate court. A major judgment comes across their desk to be reviewed. The defendant realizes that he has to pay and is willing to fork over some money. Three nickels is a fairly sizeable chunk of change but it isn’t quite as much as a quarter. Get my drift?”
“Time to cut losses.”
“You got it. A scumbag attorney—one of the guys that you might be after—suggests that his client is willing to ask leniency from the court. The seed is planted.”
“There you go with the farmer quotes. Was it wheat or corn?”
“Beans! Because that is what all of these guys are full of.” They high-fived each other as the laughter spilled from their lips. “Anyway, dissenting opinions control the flow of the money.”
“How can they do it and get away with it?”
“It’s not illegal to make a monetary donation to a political friend,” Jake said. “The guy with the gavel rules the roost.”
“You mean he’s the rooster among the hens?”
“You’re catching on. How else can you explain why it is so lucrative to hold a political office?”
“That can’t happen, can it?”
“Ha! They’ve been doing it so long in this state that it’s considered a way of life.” Jake took a swig. “The only thing in question is how much it gets cut up along the way.”
“Lots of layers of corruption?”
“In this state?” Jake laughed again. “Illinois wasn’t voted most corrupt because the statesmen harvest crops.”
“Unless it’s a cash crop.”
“You got it. Civil litigation and class action lawsuits are a big part of the state’s economy.”
“So how do you fix it?”
“We can’t.” Jake reached into his pocket for money to pay the tab. “That’s a discussion for another time.” He threw a credit card on the bar. “There are ways. You just have to get a little crafty once in a while.”
“We need to get together again real soon to share some notes.”
“Off the record?”
Willie nodded.
“In confidence?”
Again Willie nodded.
Jake pounded down the last final gulp of his beer. “Look at it this way. For every pasture full of beautiful Holsteins there’s a nasty cow chip or two.”
“You had to have been raised on a farm.”
Jake winked again. “The question becomes with which one do we want to carry on an association?” He took a step away from the bar. “I just thank the good Lord that I don’t sleep under the same roof as misery.”
“That they are.”
“What?’
“Miserable mother-fuckers.”
“Those aren’t nice words from a teen idol.”
“We’re not dealing with nice guys.”
CHAPTER 54
Oliver Pudge fidgeted as Tanner Atkins wrapped up business on the phone. He had heard the word on the streets about how pushy and domineering Tanner could be in the courtroom. As he eavesdropped it sounded like he was the same in his office and with his family.
It was as if Tanner didn’t take a breath between the word “bye” and his introduction to Pudge. “When are we going to get a settlement offer?”
“We’ve read the complaint and it is totally out of line. It shouldn’t even be in court.”
“We can start spending money and the price of poker goes up. Is that what your client wants to do?”
“Any response that we would have would be a drop in the bucket to the figure you have started at.”
“Make us an offer.”
“The suit shouldn’t be in court.”
“That’s for the judge to decide. Look, we’ve been doing this long enough to both know how the game is played.”
“Give me your version.”
“We bill our clients. It’s always best to have the ones with money. Don’t you agree?”
“My clients are working folks.”
“Then there is no need to get an early settlement is there? We’ll keep the clock ticking.”
“That’s not the way that I do things.” Pudge said.
Tanner got up, walked to the window and cracked the blinds. “Is that your Taurus parked in the lot?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m trying to show you how to drive a Maserati.” With his point made Tanner returned to his seat.
“That’s not how I do business. My family doesn’t need a flashy sports car to drive to the store.”
“You don’t understand, do you?”
“I think that I do,” Pudge countered.
“Look, there’s plenty to go around for all of us if you play your cards right. My client is going forward with his injury settlement. It was caused by negligence of the property owner.”
“That’s your position.”
“Yes it is and it’s not my fault that your client was underinsured.”
“You haven’t proved anything yet.” Pudge said. “We can do things your way, but you’ll see.”
“And what might that be?”
“Your clients will spend a lot of money in fees defending themselves and find out later that they still have to pay a judgment.”
“I guess time will tell.”
“You’ll be a lot better off persuading them to settle at an agreeable figure.” Tanner got up from his chair and walked to the door. “Sleep on things. Make discretion the better part of valor. Come to your senses.”
Pudge headed out the door. “We’ll see.”
“Once you realize it’s wiser to join the team rather than fight them we’ll get this dispute settled and all of us can collect our fees.”
Tanner couldn’t wait to get the chump out of his office. The point had been made, ethical or not. He was playing hardball. His connections with Judge Port
er would tilt the deal in his favor and he knew it.
Dawnatrelle Charles had been waiting to see his partner.
The six-foot-four black man was a contrast to the short and stubby lawyer that was exiting Tanner’s office. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, blue dress shirt with white collar and cuffs as well as black patent leather shoes. He had closely cropped neat hair with a thin mustache above his upper lip. A red ascot was placed in the suit pocket over the heart and gold cuff links glistened. Dawnatrelle’s choice of color for his tie was red to represent the power he exuded.
Tall, thin and impeccably dressed was exactly what Tanner preferred. He loathed having the short, frumpily-dressed man sitting across from him. He didn’t give Pudge the courtesy of a handshake or a walk to the door as the lawyer exited the law office.
“Did you get him signed up?”
Perfect shiny white teeth answered the question. “We’ll have to check the legality of it.”
Tanner gestured Dawnatrelle into his office with the jerk of his head. “What happened?” The door closed behind the pair.
Dawnatrelle placed his briefcase on his partner’s desk, flipped open the locks and produced a twenty-page agreement. He hurriedly flipped to the last page. “Will this constitute an agreement?”
Tanner stared at the signature. An X was on the line. “Is that it?”
Dawnatrelle nodded.
“I guess it’s valid if that is how he signs his name.”
“I tried to get him to put some curls on the bottom of the letter to make it look like it was written. All he can do is print.”
TreSpartacus Max had been the most sought-after college athlete of the year. Standing six foot seven with hands the size of frozen turkeys, he could throw a football through window glass. The NFL scouts had never seen anyone throw the football sixty yards on a rope, twelve feet off the ground. At the combine TreSpartacus completed a pass that was in the air for eighty-five yards.
The college phenom was a physical freak and hailed from the back woods of Mississippi. He was projected to be the number one pick in the NFL draft and make the agent that represented him an instant millionaire. There was reason to celebrate.
Tanner looked closer at the signature. “This is valid. Now I see what you did.” Dawnatrelle smiled and shook his head in agreement. “You had this notarized.”
The black lawyer was proud of himself. “I couldn’t let this one get away.”
Tanner grabbed a file, pulled the contents out and thumbed through some papers. “We’ve got air fare to the tune of thirty-five thousand, hotels at eleven thousand and rental cars that ran another twelve grand. There was the home for his mama that set us back four hundred and twenty-five thousand. We’ll get that back from his signing bonus. Where do we stand with Sparkles?”
FordAngelo S.J. “Sparkles” Wade was the local jeweler that Tanner had in his hip pocket. He could spin diamonds into elegant masterpieces. Be it a necklace, bracelet, watch, ring or ear stud Sparkles had a feel for what the black community sought. His reputation spread and the upper class whites and entertainment celebrities clamored for his services. Sparkles loved the attention and the notoriety loved him. He had countless autographed 8 X 10 glossy photos of personalities in music, sports and movies hanging from the walls of his jewelry store. If he wasn’t shaking their hand then he was mugging for the camera standing alongside the luminary.
Dawnatrelle spoke from memory. “TreSpartacus is wearing a Rolex courtesy of us.”
“That might as well be ten thou.”
“Yes, every bit of that,” Dawnatrelle answered, “but we had to buy the representation.”
“I understand.”
“He has three carats in each ear lobe.”
“What did that cost?
“Twelve thousand.”
“Tell him he looks good on TV, but your partner has to watch his interviews with sunglasses on.”
“The bracelet cost another five grand and the necklace set us back eight more.”
“Tell him he looks successful, but the gold chain around his neck looks like a rope on fire around the sun.”
“He calls it his wow-and-flutter look.”
“Tell him he has wowed us with the size of these invoices and it makes my heart flutter.”
“Thankfully we didn’t have to get him a ring.”
“That national championship ring looks like a golf ball on his finger.”
“The guy that fitted him said he had never seen hands as big.”
“Then he picked the right sport. You have to be big and tough in pro football.” Tanner returned his attention to the papers in his file. “The customized Hummer cost us one hundred and ten thousand.”
“It’s all a cost of doing business.”
“We’re approaching one million with some of these other odds and ends.”
“Our fees to him will reflect that. The signing bonus alone will take care of us on all that with several million left over for him.”
“Just do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep him alive.”
CHAPTER 55
“War!” Uncle Woo yelled as he stood up and pounded his fist on the table. His stack of cards was considerably thinner than Pabby’s.
“What woke him up?” Julie asked as the sound reverberated around the room.
Aieshia laughed. “Dat ole wives’ tale must be true.”
“What’s that?”
“Once a man, twice a chile.”
“You missed the story that Pork Chop told us about him earlier this morning.”
“What did he do dis time?”
“We asked him what he’s been up to.”
“Yeah?”
“He said that he’s been on the high wire. When we asked him where he said the circus.”
“Really. How recently?”
“Last night. They’ve been in town for three weeks doing shows every night and twice on weekends.”
“He hasn’t fallen off an’ hit his head, has he?” Aieshia thought that Uncle Woo was crazy compared to the children that she had to work with all day.
“No, not yet. But he said that he has a big show on Sunday and wants us to come to it.”
“At da arena?”
Julie chuckled. “No. He said that they are stringing up a high wire between the legs of the Gateway Arch and that he was going to walk on it without a net.”
“He’s such a cute man.” Aieshia looked at Uncle Woo as he turned over his card in War.
“You booger! You beat me again!” Uncle Woo pounded the table with his fists. Pabby gathered all the cards into a pile in front of him.
“Then he told us to stick around after he walked the tight rope because they were going to swing on the flying trapeze and go from one leg of the Arch to the other.”
Aieshia laughed out loud. “I can jus’ see him now in tight pants an’ suspendas. Is he goin’ ta wear a striped shirt wit’ knee high socks?”
“I don’t think so. But he said that they were going to be five hundred feet up in the air and he thought he might have a shot of Jack to calm his nerves a little.”
“Maybe we’ll have ta git a ticket an’ see da show.” Aieshia laughed loudly. “Whooeee.”
“That could be a problem,” Julie said. “He said that over fifty thousand people had already gotten tickets in advance.”
“Whooeee!”
The phone rang and Julie hurried to answer it. “Prairie Winds.”
“Julie, we’ve got a little problem out here on the course,” Fred said from his mobile phone. “That foursome that J Dub was worried about is taking forever out here so we’re going to skip a few holes and go to the tenth tee if it’s alright with you.”
“Sure. You guys know not to cut in front of anyone. If there are people on the tee then respect the people that were there first.”
“No problem. It’s open right now. These guys have three holes open in front of them.”
“I’ll send J Dub out to speed them up.” She poked her head into the office and alerted her boss to the logjam.
J Dub rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t witness it every single day I would swear that some of these grown men were babies.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’s Fred’s fault. It sounds like the other group wouldn’t let them play through.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He picked up a light jacket and slung it over his shoulders. “All the slower players have to do is let the faster players go through. I don’t care how long it takes them. They can play until dark. Just let faster players go through. Everybody has an ego problem when it comes to waving people on.” He headed out the door.
The clouds had rolled in. There weren’t going to be many good days left for the golf season. The mornings were cooler and the sun was setting earlier in the day. A slight breeze had picked up and leaves were falling off the trees. The last thing J Dub wanted to do was deal with slow play, but he had to do what the job called for.
The Gator pulled up to a green just as the four guys were putting out. J Dub thought that he might have a problem when they had appeared in the clubhouse earlier. It was a group that played at Prairie Winds on occasion and when they did the course would get backed up for the entire day. In retrospect he wished that he had told Fred and the guys to tee off on number ten so that they wouldn’t have to follow this particular foursome.
As he got out of the vehicle J Dub reminded himself to use a method that was always successful. He had learned early in his career that it was more about how it was said that what was said. “Hi, fellas. It’s a good day to be on the course.”
“That depends.” The smallest one always seemed to be the one with the attitude and the mouth.
“I was just wondering if maybe you guys could help me out a little.” He had found that virtually everybody he had talked to previously was willing to help out when asked.
The guys were walking to their carts. “Again, that depends.”
“The course is packed with players today and you guys are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.’
“We paid. I would hope so.”
J Dub chuckled. “Of course. Stay until dark for all I care.”
“We might.”
“I just need a favor.” There wasn’t an easy way to say it. “I’ve had a complaint or two about the pace of play and I need the slower players to wave the faster players through.”
