by James Ross
“Are you sayin’ that we’re lousy golfers?”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
One of the other guys stepped in. “That’s kinda the way I heard it.”
J Dub tried to make light of the moment. “Different players play at different speeds. You guys can take as long as you’d like. You’re more than welcome. I just have some other guys out here that want to play faster.”
“Then maybe they oughta play on a different course.” The mouth returned. “Yeah, we’re not holdin’ anybody up.”
“I didn’t say that. All I’m asking is that slower players should show some etiquette and let faster players play through.”
“Are you sayin’ that we’re not polite?”
“No, I didn’t say…”
“That was the way I heard it.”
“Yeah, fuck you!” A fist came out of nowhere and landed on the side of J Dub’s face. He staggered to the ground holding his face.
“Go bother somebody else next time, white boy.”
J Dub shook his head trying to free the cobwebs. He looked on as the foursome got into their carts and drove to the next tee. His first reaction was to look around for help or to see if anyone else saw what happened. He couldn’t see any other golfers.
The natural reaction was to get up to defend himself. He rubbed his jaw. He winced. The pain shot through his cheek. He watched as the carts drove off. J Dub opened his mouth and moved his jaw from side to side. That was a first in all his days on the golf course. He got off the ground, walked to the Gator and grabbed his walkie-talkie.
“Julie, call the police department and send a squad car over here.”
“What happened?” She knew that he had gone out to the course to speed up play.
“That foursome that I thought might cause some trouble did just that. One of the guys blind-sided me.”
“What?”
“One of the guys punched me. He gave me a cheap shot. Get the cops over here.”
“That’s terrible!”
“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Julie made the call and the police arrived only a minute or two after J Dub had gotten back to the clubhouse. He was applying ice to his jaw as the cop entered.
“Did we have a disturbance?”
“One of the groups was playing slow so I went out to try to speed them up.”
The officer looked at the ice being applied. “It looks like they didn’t care for that.”
“The mouthy one cold-cocked me.”
The cop’s partner said, “They get brave when they’re in numbers.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Get to the bottom of what happened. The way I feel right now is that I want to press assault charges.”
“We normally don’t respond to confrontations on private property.”
“I was attacked!”
“We can go out there and give them a little something to think about.”
“That’s fine. Go out on the golf course in the police car. You can follow me.”
J Dub waited at the tee as the squad car moved down the cart path and stopped at the next green. He watched as the officers talked to the foursome. With a slight turn he twisted his neck and cracked a few vertebrae to release a little tension.
After five minutes the cops got back into the car, turned around and retreated back to the tee box where J Dub was parked.
The cops parked and got out of the car. “How did you say it happened?”
“I got a call from the course about slow play. Some of my regulars thought it would be wise to check on a group and speed them up. I jumped in the Gator and located the problem. I told them they could stay all day, but to let faster players play through.”
“Their story didn’t come close to that.”
“Really? What did they say?”
“We’d like to get some more information from you.”
“I don’t know what else to say. I asked them politely to let faster players go through.”
“They said that you were threatening them.”
“Not at all.”
“One of the guys said that you told them to get off the course or else.”
“That’s not true.”
“Another guy said that you made an aggressive move toward one of them.”
J Dub laughed. “Are you kidding? There were four of them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
J Dub looked at the officers in disbelief. “Then it looks like we’ve got ourselves an old-fashioned pissing contest, doesn’t it?”
“They said that you said it was your property and that if they didn’t like it you would have them removed for trespassing.”
“I never said anything like that.”
“We were having a discussion about this place of business yesterday afternoon at the station,” the lead cop said.
“What’s that got to do with me getting jacked?”
The cop opened his squad car and got his citation book.
“The Chief wanted me to give you this.” He handed a yellow copy to J Dub.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a ticket for filing a false police report.”
“When?”
“When you called us out to investigate that package that was empty.”
“The postal service delivered an empty package and I think that someone on the inside stole the contents of it.”
“Our investigation of what happened goes in a different direction. We think that you took the contents of the package and then filed a false report to collect insurance proceeds.”
“Hey, guys, wait a second. That package…”
“No, you wait a second. You were pulled over for speeding a few weeks ago and got confrontational with the officer on duty that day.”
“I did not.”
“That was not what his report indicated,” the cop’s partner said.
The lead cop started writing another ticket.
J Dub looked at the cop content that he was going to cite the foursome for assault. “At least I’m glad that you’re going to give the mouthy one a ticket.”
“We think that you instigated this situation.” The cop continued to write.
“What?” J Dub was dumbfounded. “I simply went out to speed up play.”
“According to them they said you did it in a threatening manner. They said that you assaulted them.”
“I did no such thing.”
“It’s their word against yours.” The cop tore the ticket off and handed it to J Dub. “This is a citation for assault and battery.”
“What are you guys talking about? I’m the one that got hit!”
“Tell it to the court.”
“They said that they had to react in self-defense to your aggressive action.” The two retreated to the squad car. J Dub’s mouth was open in disbelief. He glanced at both tickets. The engine turned over. The cops pulled away.
“What the heck is going on around here?” he mumbled to himself.
CHAPTER 56
“Where did you get that?” Skip exclaimed later that night in Abby’s room at Footprints of Hope.
“One of the guys gave it to me,” Pabby answered.
Skip’s eyes resembled those of a deer looking into headlights as he stared at the hundred dollar bill. Pabby didn’t realize that the amount of money would be attractive to others. Skip looked at the picture of Ben Franklin and turned it over to examine the 100s that dotted all four corners on the reverse side. “You can buy a lot of things with this.”
“I know.”
“We can probably get a TV or a cell phone or an I-pad.” Those were items that only rich kids could afford, certainly not foster children.
“J Dub let me have it so that we can get something fun.”
“How much money do you have?”
“Not too much. Whatever I have J Dub keeps.”
“He must not keep all of it. You’ve got this.” Skip raised the bill i
n the air.
“He lets me have one of them in case I need some money for an emergency.”
Skip’s stomach growled. “I think I’m having one right now.”
“What?”
“An emergency.” He clutched his belly. “That stuff they fed us tonight was horrible.”
“Do you have to poop?”
Skip laughed. “No, I’m hungry.” He looked at the C-note. “Let’s call out for a pizza.”
“Mrs. P doesn’t allow that.”
“How will she know?”
“The guard.”
Skip looked at bill again. “We’ll pay him not to tell. There’s plenty here.”
Pabby liked that idea. He smiled. “What kind do you want?”
“Pepperoni.”
“I like bacon and green peppers.”
“I want sausage and mushrooms too.”
“Let’s get everything on it.”
Skip grinned. “Can we hold the onions?” Pabby nodded as Skip put his hand in the air for a high-five. “Who do you want to call?”
“I don’t know.”
“How about Super Mario’s?”
“Yeah! We’ve had that at the golf course before.”
The rooms at Footprints of Hope were small. A single bed, desk, closet and chest of drawers were crammed into a room that was fifteen feet by twelve. A side door led to a shared bathroom with the occupant on the abutting wall. Two kids shared a shower, sink and toilet. The door into the bathroom could be locked as well as the door that led into the hall. The floor consisted of Linoleum tile.
Any attempts at group social life took place in the TV room. Skip’s room was four doors down and across the hall from Pabby’s room. No one shared the bathroom with Pabby. The room next to him was unoccupied. It was at the end of the addition and closest to the rear of the building and exit door.
The pair listened to the radio and played a video game on the Internet while waiting for the pizza to be delivered. It was getting close to 9:30. Bed check was at ten. Skip knew that they were cutting it close and kept peeking out the window. His wait was over. Headlights shined on the asphalt entrance road. “It’s here! Go to the front door and get it.”
“No, you go.”
“You’ve got the money. Give five dollars to Alex and then pay for the pizza. I’ll run to the soda machine and get us something to drink.”
Pabby made the walk down the hall. He passed the TV room, the mail room and entered the foyer of the main house. The task at hand was simple enough. The pizza delivery boy was speaking to Alex as Pabby approached.
“That’s against the rules,” Alex said. “You know that.”
“You’re my buddy, right?” Pabby pulled the hundred dollar bill out of his pocket. “Skip told me to give you five dollars to turn your head.”
Alex grinned. “Oh he did.” Pabby nodded. “I don’t have change for anything that large. Do you have anything smaller?”
“I will when I pay for it.”
“Are you Pabby?” the delivery boy asked. Pabby nodded. “Here’s your pizza. The total comes to $18.76.”
The teen reached out with the hundred dollar bill. “Here.”
“I can’t accept anything larger than a twenty.”
Pabby’s face showed his surprise. His mouth was open, the stare blank. He didn’t know what to do. “You mean I can’t get it.”
“Not if that is the only bill you have.”
“Alex, you don’t have change, do you?”
“I don’t carry that much money.”
“Will you pay for it and I’ll pay you back tomorrow?”
Alex looked at the teen, contemplating. “You shouldn’t be ordering this in the first place.”
“Somebody has to pay for it,” the delivery boy butted in. “Go get the head mistress.”
“No, no. We don’t want that.”
“I’ve got pizzas that are getting cold. I need to get moving.” A door from the office opened. It was on the living room side of the foyer. Mrs. P approached the trio and in an unmistakable voice asked, “What’s all the commotion out here?”
Pabby panicked. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket. The delivery boy intervened. “We had a pizza ordered for this address. The name was Pabby.”
Mrs. P looked at the culprit. “Did you order a pizza?”
Pabby could only look at the floor. “You know what the rules are.” Pabby’s eyes were fixed downward.
“Rules or no rules I need to get paid for this pizza.”
“How were you going to pay for it, Pabby?” The teen reached into his pocket and produced a crumpled up bill.
“I can’t take anything higher than a twenty.”
Mrs. P headed to her office. “Hold on.” She returned with five twenties. After looking at the change she handed the boy one of them. “Here. This should take care of it.”
“Only a dollar and a quarter for a tip?”
Mrs. P counted numbers to herself. Her ire was rising. “Alex, do you have three dollars for the young man? I’ll pay you back in a few minutes.” The guard found three singles in his pocket and was left with a ten dollar bill. A few seconds later the delivery boy was heading out the door. “In the future when you get a call from here, disregard the order.” The door slammed.
Alex held the pizza as Pabby’s eyes remained fixed. Mrs. P held out the remaining bills as Pabby claimed them.
“I feel bad.”
“Now you know why we have rules.”
“Can I have the pizza?”
“Of course not. We’ll reheat it for lunch tomorrow.” Mrs. P thought about administering a stern lecture. With the presence of Alex she backed off. “You know what this means.”
Pabby nodded.
“You’re grounded for two weeks. That’s the second time you’ve been grounded. If you’re going to make a habit of this then I’ll have to stop you from going to the golf course. Do you understand?”
Once again Pabby nodded.
“Now off to your room. We’ll talk about where you got the money in the morning.”
CHAPTER 57
Julie couldn’t help but grin when Pudge came through the door the next morning. He was so different than most of the athletic men that stood in front of her. She didn’t know whether or not to laugh or feel sorry for J Dub. The lawyer’s presence seemed to generate only confusion. Julie knew that she needed to support her boss and hoped that he knew what he was doing by using the services of a guy that looked more comfortable baking the doughnuts that Fred consumed.
After brief greetings she led the attorney behind the counter and into the office. J Dub and Curt were awaiting his arrival. “Watch the counter for a while, Julie. We know how these lawyers can be.”
“It’s nice to see you too,” Pudge said as he grabbed a seat, placed his briefcase across his thighs and flipped open the lock. He located a file and retrieved some contents.
“Any updates for us?”
“I met with Tanner.”
“What did he say?”
“He wants an offer.”
“And we want the lawsuit dropped.”
“He feels like he’s in the driver’s seat. All the rulings thus far have been in his favor.”
“Now what do we do?” J Dub felt like every next step was going to cost thousands of dollars.
“We can ask for arbitration.”
“And if that doesn’t work, then what?”
“We’ll have to interview witnesses, gather evidence and probably get an investigator on the case.”
J Dub let out a sigh. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Most of the witnesses were in the same foursome.”
Curt saw a chance to jump in. “Then we’re going to start spending money when we don’t want to just to prove that we’re not responsible.” Pudge nodded. “Have you talked to Crash? What does the insurance company want to do?”
“That’s where it all gets complicated,” Pudge went on to explain. “It’s like the pla
intiffs want to separate all the defendants. They sued the golf cart manufacturer, the tire company and the asphalt company that put down the cart path. Everybody is forced to come up with their own evidence and try to figure out what happened.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll give each other written requests and share what we found.” J Dub listened intently. “Expert witnesses will be called. We’ll start the depositions and…”
“No, no, no! I don’t want to go through all this stuff. We’ll spend thousands of dollars just to prove that we’re not liable.”
“Tanner knows that. That’s why he is trying to get you to make him an offer. He thinks that you’ll want to give it to him and his client rather than spend the money on testimony and take the risk of losing.”
J Dub looked at Curt then turned back to his lawyer. “If we go through all that what is it going to cost us?”
“It’s hard to say but depositions aren’t cheap. Neither are investigators. You’re probably looking at a hundred thousand or more and then there is the cost of the trial.” Pudge opened his hands to the ceiling. “All told it might cost you four to five hundred thousand.”
“That’s crazy! The legal system bankrupts Middle America! All you guys are crooks!”
“Whose side are you on?” Curt asked. “Nobody wants to reach a settlement. Every single one of you wants to keep the cloud over our head, hold us in limbo and wait it out until one side or the other gives in.”
Pudge could feel their anger. “After we go through the depositions we can ask the judge for summary judgment.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s asking the court to dismiss the case based on the evidence.”
“We’ve got a fat chance of that.”
“Then we’ll go to trial. We can either request a jury trial or have the judge decide the case.”
“We’ve got a lot of real attractive options, don’t we?”
“That’s the way our system works.” Pudge was a like a wheel on a car. He was a component of the legal community. It was like they all were—numb to the people that lived life outside the courthouse.
J Dub buried his face in his hands then glanced at Curt for help. The older brother sympathized and then spoke up. “Then let’s recap the options that we have sitting on the table. We can either spend over a hundred thousand dollars to conduct our own investigation. Or we can admit liability and maybe settle for less with the guy that flipped the cart. Of course another option is to go to trial and spend upwards to a half million bucks with no guarantees that we’ll win. And on top of all that we can’t talk to our insurance guy because he’s a defendant too and that is a conflict of interest.”
