Foreclosure: A Novel

by S. D. Thames

  “Because if I fall, David, you fall. You willing to fall with me?” Frank jerked David, causing David to flinch. “Is that a ‘no’?”

  “No, Frank. It’s not.”

  “You’re not willing to?”

  “I am, Frank. I’m your guy. I’m on your team.”

  “What are the rules, David?” Frank jerked him again.

  David closed his eyes. “No concessions without your approval.”

  “And?” he screamed with another jerk.

  “We don’t produce escrow records.”

  “You afraid of dying, David?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” David said. “I know death, Frank. Too well.”

  Frank pulled David away from the wall. “Give me a hug, young man.” He pulled him even tighter for a bear hug. “Welcome to the team.”

  “Any other rules I need to know of?” David asked.

  “That’s all I can think of for now.” Frank let him go and grinned. “You’re my attorney now, David, isn’t that right?”

  “As soon as you sign that retainer agreement and give me my check.”

  “Robbie will take care of that.”

  Frank returned to his chair and reclined. A gust of wind blew debris in his face and knocked his ash can over, but Frank seemed oblivious to it all.

  “There’s one more thing we need to discuss,” David said.

  “That’s news to me,” Frank sighed.

  “Meridian Bank.”

  Frank rubbed his head like he had a migraine. “In due course.”

  “It’s urgent, Frank.”

  “In due course.”

  Robbie stepped forward and pulled on David’s shoulder. “Let’s get that agreement taken care of.”

  David followed Robbie back into the kitchen and pulled the agreement from the bag he’d left on the countertop. “You can sign for the company?”

  Robbie nodded. He scribbled his name on the signature line. Underneath, he printed a title, COO.

  “I didn’t know you were an officer of the company,” David said.

  “Now you do.” Robbie retrieved an envelope from a drawer and handed it to David. David opened it and found a check. The watermark glistened under the light of the kitchen. Payable to Hollis & Alderman, in the amount of $50,000.

  David’s pride swelled as the elevator descended. Having the check and signed agreement in hand gave him the confidence to ask Robbie something that had long been on his mind. “So what’s the story with Frank and Katherine? They an item?”

  Robbie grunted. “He’s old enough to be her father.”

  “Well, this is Gaspar County.”

  “Is incest common in Gaspar County?”

  “I don’t follow,” David said.

  The elevator stopped on a dime on the ground floor. David grabbed the rail.

  “She is his daughter,” Robbie said. “Frank’s only child.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “He didn’t know her until five years ago. Now she’s his right hand.”

  That made perfect sense to David. Almost perfect sense. “But I thought you were his right hand.”

  Robbie grinned. “Frank’s left-handed.”

  David watched Terry hold the check to the light of his home study.

  “So this is what it takes to finally get to see your study.” David surveyed the mahogany bookshelves lining the walls of Terry’s office. He’d been in this house countless times before, but had never seen this room. “I didn’t know you were such a history buff.”

  Terry tilted the check back and forth. “It’s a real check all right. Watermark and all.” He handed the check back to David. “Good job, kid. This deserves a toast.” He turned around to the bar behind his desk and poured a few ounces of scotch in two snifters. He handed one to David. “To your first client.”

  They knocked glasses and drank. David slammed his in a few seconds.

  “You got to slow down and enjoy it a little, David.”

  “This is as slow as I can go.” David looked at the check. “So what do I do with this?”

  “Ignorance really is bliss. You kids are in such a rush to become partner. It only brings more headaches.” Terry smiled at David. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  David returned the smile. “I got a feeling something big’s going to come of this, Terry.”

  “I thought this was just about a few foreclosures and condo lawsuits.”

  David shook his head. “I’ve got a plan—a huge lawsuit in mind.”

  “How huge?” Terry asked while taking a sip of scotch.

  “Meridian Bank.”

  Terry mulled it over for a moment. “You want to sue Meridian Bank?”

  “That’s right. Strike first, before they have a chance to foreclose.”

  Terry was nodding in agreement. “So what’s the client think about that?”

  David raised his glass for another drink. “He doesn’t know it yet.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was approaching 10:00 a.m. when David closed his eyes and rested his head on his desktop. He hadn’t been able to find his bearings all morning, mainly because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but talking to Frank about Meridian Bank. He’d tried calling Frank three times, and had sent him two emails insisting they discuss “Meridian Bank ASAP.” Frank had not responded. Neither had Robbie.

  When David opened his eyes, Mirabel was standing in front of his desk, holding a small box and smiling cheerfully.

  He asked her what was up.

  She handed him the box. “Your new BlackBerry arrived. I had Jimmy set it up for you.”

  He opened the box and admired the sleek new device. A big improvement over the last bulky one he had to carry around. “Thanks.” He sensed Mirabel had more on her mind than delivering his new phone. “Anything else?”

  She took a breath. “I just wanted to say how proud I am of you.”

  “For what?”

  “For landing your first client.”

  “Oh, is that the chatter this morning?”

  “It’s all the talk.” She closed the door behind her. “You think it will make it more likely I keep my job?”

  He reeled his head back from the non sequitur. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “With all the layoffs going on in the big firms up north, we know it’s only a matter of time before they make cuts here.”

  “If that’s true, they haven’t shared any of it with me. Remember, I’m not a partner.”

  “But you’re busy, right? I mean, this new work will keep both of us busy for a while?”

  “It should.”

  “Because there’s also talk that people might be laid off because of your client.”

  David rubbed his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Who told you that?”

  Mirabel lowered her voice. “It’s just the scuttle, you know?”

  David knew just the person responsible for such scuttle. He stood to leave.

  “And one other thing.” Mirabel followed him out the doorway. “Ed Savage called.”

  “Of course he did. Can’t I ever have a decent Monday?”

  “Better than a shitty Friday though, right?” She chased him around the corner. He picked up the pace, turned the next corner, and left her in the dust.

  A moment later, he found Alton’s door closed. He put his ear to the door and heard a conference call in progress. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Alton looked up from his call, confounded but curious to see what moron would possibly interrupt him while he was on the phone. His rolling eyes told David, Of course it’s you.

  “We need to talk,” David said.

  Alton shook his hands like he wanted to strangle David. He settled for hitting the mute button. “As you can see, I’m on the phone.”

  “Did you plant a rumor there will be layoffs because I took on Frank O’Reilly?”

  Alton rubbed the stubble on his left cheek in rumination.
“It’s not a rumor.”

  The voice on the speakerphone was growing weary. “Alton, I don’t care what you say, we were billed for work your firm never performed, and I’m not going to pay a dime for it.”

  Alton gestured for David to stay quiet, and then he hit the mute button again. “Stan, I can assure you, our bills are accurate. But because I value you as a client and a friend, I’ll be sure to look into it. You have my word, Stan.”

  “And if I’m right?” Stan asked.

  “Heads will roll, Stan. Heads will roll.”

  “Good.”

  Stan hung up, and Alton turned to David. “Everyone wants heads to roll, David.”

  “What’s this talk about layoffs?”

  “They’re inevitable. Don’t you read legal blogs? For crying out loud, ten thousand lawyers were laid off last month.”

  “But what does that have to do with Pinnacle?”

  “We’re passing up a lot of money so you can fulfill your dream of bagging your own renegade client. Of course that affects the firm’s bottom line, which in turn affects who we can keep on this year.”

  David leaned over Alton’s desk. “And you just had to make that known to the staff?”

  Alton shrugged. “I don’t know how they find these things out.” His phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” He hit the answer button. “Yes?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Holloway, but is David Friedman in there?” It was Alton’s secretary, Beatrice.

  Alton’s face lit up. “Why yes, Beatrice, he is.”

  “Tell him his assistant’s trying to find him. Some Ed Savage is screaming at her on the phone.”

  “Thanks, Beatrice.”

  “And please thank him for the layoffs,” she muttered as she hung up.

  Alton smiled. “You heard that, David. Thanks a lot.”

  As David returned to his office, he felt the heat of glares and under-the-breath curses from every cubicle he passed. When he reached Mirabel, he found her talking about him on the phone. “Actually, here he is now,” she said as David snatched the phone away from her.

  David braced himself for Ed Savage’s antics. “Listen to me, numb nuts: what part of don’t call me again don’t you understand?”

  Mirabel shook her head with horror.

  “Good morning to you too, asshole.” It was Beth.

  “Oh, sorry. Give me a minute.”

  He handed the phone back to Mirabel. “I’ll take this one in my office.”

  “Good idea,” she said.

  David picked up the phone in his office with a flutter in his loins. “Sorry about that. A borrower who wants to kill me has been calling all morning.”

  “I have the same problem sometimes. Only my adversaries have no reason to bitch.”

  “So I see you’ve been thinking about me more than I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “If it helps to dream, David, do what you gotta do. But you’ve probably heard about Judge Cox being appointed to the federal bench?”

  David shuddered at the memory of Judge Cox tearing him a new asshole during the Savage trial. But upon further consideration, this was good news: David rarely appeared in federal court, so this meant he would be seeing much less of the Honorable Henry Terrance Cox. “Hallelujah. First good news I’ve heard this year.”

  “Our office is strongly encouraged to attend his confirmation reception tonight.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “And I’d like you to come with me, as a friend, mainly so I don’t have to accept any invitations from anyone in my office.”

  “As your date?”

  “More like a Monday-night outing. I know you’re hard up for this type of thing.”

  “What time should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll call you back and let you know.”

  He hung up and looked up to see Mirabel again. “Yes?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.” She just stood there smiling, like she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

  “On with it.”

  “Ed Savage is on the other line again.” Mirabel clenched her teeth, waiting for the hammer to drop.

  David glanced down and saw the call waiting. “Of course he is.” He waved Mirabel off and answered the phone. “Hey, Ed, you persistent slug. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m calling you in good faith, Mr. Friedman.”

  “Great. Because last time we talked you said you wanted to kill me.”

  “I fired my attorney today.”

  “Then I’m sure Joe McLaren is having a better day than me.”

  “The bill for the appeal was larger than I expected.”

  “And all that money you paid for that bond could have gone toward getting your house back.”

  “I still expect to win the appeal. But that’s not what I want to talk about.” Ed cleared his throat. “Can we meet in person?”

  David checked the clock and considered how this day would only drag on waiting for Frank to call him back and, now, for his quasi-date with Beth. “Ed, you caught me at a good time. How about lunch?”

  Maybe it was the fluorescent glow of the tiny yellow and brown tiles lining the wall next to their booth, but David realized that he was staring at crevices in Ed’s complexion that he’d never noticed before. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d sat at this distance from Ed. He’d been directly across from him nearly a year ago when he took his and Wanda Savage’s depositions; likewise for the mediation they attended a few months before trial. Still, David had never noticed the cavernous scars dotting Ed’s face.

  “This is the last place I’d expect a lawyer to eat lunch,” Ed said as he spread an artificial buttery spread over his waffle. “We like to eat here on vacations sometimes.”

  David stirred a sugar in his coffee. “You should know by now, Ed, I’m not your typical lawyer.”

  “No offense, but you’re all crooks in my book.” Ed stuffed his mouth with waffle, now drenched in syrup. “I ever tell you my old man wanted me to be a lawyer?”

  David shook his head and cut into a slice of ham, the only thing on his plate. “Nope. In fact, you never told me you had an old man.”

  “He paid my way through ’Bama. First guy in his family to go to college.”

  “He must have been proud.”

  “He never quite got over me enlisting after I graduated. ‘Why the hell you want to fight in Vietnam? I paid for college so you wouldn’t have to go.’ He wanted to brag about his son the lawyer.”

  David vaguely remembered hearing some iteration of these facts during Ed’s deposition, or was it his trial testimony? He decided to play along. “So why did you?”

  “I wanted to serve my country. I really did. I wasn’t making that up for the jury.” Ed took another bite. “So what about your old man? I never heard you talk about him.”

  “Not much to talk about.”

  “He happy you’re a lawyer?” Ed asked.

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “You don’t talk?”

  “He died before I finished high school.”

  Ed lowered his head and tightened his upper lip. “I’m sorry. Did—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Now that we got our family trees mapped out, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”

  Ed set down his fork. “I think you know what’s on my mind. What’s always on my mind.”

  “Ed, when are you going to put a serious offer on the table? To be honest—and I know you think I’m incapable of that, and perhaps rightly so—but in all honesty, my client’s growing weary of dealing with you.”

  “I don’t think that mortgage should be enforceable. Not with what I’ve learned about equity through all this. I’ll take my chances with the appeal. Your hands are as dirty as they come.”

  “You mean my client’s.”

  Ed shrugged. “Same difference.”

  David waved for the waitress and asked for the check. Then to Ed, “I’m putting on my objective hat here, Ed,
and I’m not trying to persuade you. But if you were my client, I’d tell you your chances of winning that appeal are about zilch.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Your main defense has been rejected in every state that has decided the issue.”

  “Maybe Florida will be different.”

  “If it is, then every homeowner who claims they were duped by the housing crash will get a free ride.”

  “And maybe we should.”

  “It’s not going to happen. And I have to believe Joe told you that.”

  “It’s not our only defense.” Then, a childlike frustration seemed to grip Ed, and his eyes turned red. David had seen this face many times too, from this man too stubborn to concede to reality. But Ed wouldn’t give up. “Say your client takes the house or sells it at the foreclosure sale. I’ve talked to realtor after realtor, and they all say the same thing: my house is worth five or six hundred grand now, tops. And that amount of money seems much more doable.”

  “I might be able to get some interest waived, but you’re going to have to pay the amount of the judgment to stay in the house.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “It’s a matter of principle to the bank. You’ve dragged this out and made them spend money they’re never going to get back. So they’ll insist on the full amount.”

  Just as the waitress returned with the check, Ed slammed his fist on the table, shaking their plates and knocking his fork off the table. “Fuck your bank!”

  The waitress let out a muted shriek, dropped the check, and rushed off.

  Ed rubbed his brow. “If only I had saved that damn email. I know he sent it. I know it exists.”

  David recalled Blake handing him the last copy of the email on New Year’s Eve. “That’s the way the ball bounces sometimes.”

  “You talk about it like it’s a game or something. It’s our lives.”

  David sighed, and nodded I’m sorry to the waitress. “So, Ed, how’s Mrs. Savage?”

  Ed looked David in the eyes. “She said she’s found God. Said she don’t even care about the house anymore. Whatever the Lord wills.”

  “Whatever helps her sleep, I guess. What do you say?”

  “I say I want my damn house. She said it’s going to kill me.”