Foreclosure: A Novel

by S. D. Thames

  David nodded and strutted back to his table like the victor.

  Vasquez resumed before David could take his seat. “Mr. O’Reilly, have you ever met any representative of Xerxes Capital?”

  The jurors were tied to Frank. David doubted they even understood why the question mattered, but the objection and sidebar had raised the stakes and their interest. It was all about scoring points now.

  “Of course I have,” Frank said.

  “When was the last time?” Vasquez asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know for sure. Definitely after the fire.”

  “And why did you meet then?”

  “Because we had to return the escrow monies after the fire. The units under contract were destroyed. There was a lot to discuss.”

  “And does Pinnacle have documents showing the return of those monies?”

  “I’m sure we do.”

  This was news to David. He hadn’t seen an escrow record, fake or otherwise, covering any period of time after the fire. He wondered what Frank was about to pull out of his hat.

  Vasquez glanced at David. “Did you give those to your attorney?”

  Frank glanced at him too. “I would imagine so.” Then he stared back at Vasquez. “But to return to your question, or where I think you’re going with your question, the notion that Pinnacle Homes & Investments needed to burn down the Regency Gaspar Towers to pay these escrow monies is the most absurd thing I have ever heard.” He took a deep breath. The jurors were hanging on every word, and Frank was doing a fine job of making frequent eye contact with them, just as David had coached him.

  “I started my company when I was twenty-two years old, Mr. Vasquez. Every dime I made over the years was put into the Towers. It wasn’t about the money to me. It was about building the nicest condominium, and the most luxurious, in all of Gaspar County. Hell, anywhere on the Gulf Coast, from Pensacola to the Keys. And for you to accuse me—or anyone working for me, or with me—of burning the Towers down to collect money is not only absurd, it’s an affront to everything I have ever worked for.” Frank’s voice cracked with emotion. David liked it and, more importantly, he thought the jurors did too.

  Vasquez stared into space like a batter who’d just taken a fastball right up the middle. He got ready for the next pitch. “Mr. O’Reilly, do you have copies of those escrow records?”

  “Of course we do,” Frank said.

  Vasquez scratched his head. “Your Honor, may I approach?”

  Judge Cox waved for the attorneys to return for another sidebar.

  “What is it now?” he asked.

  “It’s about these documents,” Vasquez said. “We asked for them on several occasions, but never received any for this time period.”

  Judge Cox huffed and checked the clock. Then he turned and spoke to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we’re going to take a break now for fifteen minutes. We’ll reconvene shortly.”

  “All rise.”

  The jurors shuffled out.

  The instant the door closed on the jurors, Judge Cox turned on David. “Mr. Friedman, why weren’t these documents produced to the plaintiff?”

  David glanced at Frank, who was still sitting on the witness stand but now wore a slight smirk of pleasure in seeing David under such pressure.

  “Judge, may I have a moment with my client?”

  “Damn it, Frank, you’re going to get me disbarred.” They were meeting in a conference room outside the courtroom that was reserved for such occasions. David’s voice was loud enough to be heard in the hallway. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Do these documents exist?”

  Frank was not hiding his smirk anymore. “You sure believe they did. Enough to go sniffing around last night.”

  “I knew I was being lied to.”

  “Aren’t we all? It’s called business.”

  David felt his head spinning.

  “I told you we’ve got nothing to worry about,” Frank said. “Just hang in there.”

  There was a knock on the door. David opened the door and saw Vasquez.

  “I’m not done yet,” David said.

  “I think we can work this issue out.” Vasquez was holding a manila folder. “We made a mistake with our exhibits, too.”

  David stepped out and closed the door on Frank. “How’s that?”

  “My paralegal just brought to my attention that we left something off our exhibit list.” He handed the folder to David.

  David opened it and glanced over a check and correspondence.

  “This is our payment, when we paid off the mortgage. We need to add this to our exhibit list. Agree to this, and we’ll drop the fuss about the escrow records.”

  David stared at the check that had paid off the mortgage. It was payable to Meridian Bank of Miami, As Servicer for the GS-7900 Trust. “They were servicer?” David muttered to himself.

  Vasquez nudged him with his elbow. “Yeah, good thing for you it’s not made out to Xerxes Capital.”

  David stared at Vasquez’s dirty grin, dread clouding his every sense. The check might not be made out to Xerxes Capital, but why was it made out to Meridian Bank as servicer? That could only mean they didn’t own the loan. And if that was the case, why hadn’t that come out in the foreclosure lawsuit? And why would they sell the loan? Then he remembered that the day they’d settled with Meridian Bank, Justin had told David they needed to talk. Was it about this?

  Vasquez waved for David’s attention. “You get those escrow documents tonight, let us add this to our exhibit list, we’ll tell the judge everything’s fine.”

  David nodded to Vasquez. He had no idea what he was agreeing to, but right now he could care less. The only thing on his mind was finding out who’d purchased Frank’s mortgage.

  The instant the judge called an afternoon break, David—without saying a word to his client—ran out to beat the jurors to the elevator. He took the elevator downstairs and ran to the locker to retrieve his BlackBerry.

  Outside the courthouse, he dialed a number. It rang twice and went to voice mail.

  “Damn it.” He dialed another number.

  “Hello?” Lana answered, staggered.

  “Lana, I need to talk to Justin.”

  “Why are you calling?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. I need to talk to Justin.”

  She paused. “He’s not well, David.” She paused again. “He lost his job.”

  “I need to talk to him. Where is he?”

  She let out a long sigh. “Leave him alone, David, please.”

  “Lana, I’m in the middle of a trial. It’s crucial that I talk to Justin. If I don’t, it could—”

  “Just stop, please. I’ll bring him to you tonight.”

  “You know where I live.”

  David waited in his dining room. Lana had said she she’d bring Justin by there by nine, but it was already a quarter after the hour. He was about to call her when he saw headlights outside. A moment later, a car door closed, gently. Then light footsteps followed, and there was a soft knock on the door.

  He opened it and saw her cautious smile.

  “Where’s Justin?” he asked.

  “Can I come in?”

  He opened the door and stood out of her way. “I thought Justin was coming.”

  She entered, and he closed the door behind her. She wore her hair tied off her neck.

  “He’s nearby, but he didn’t want to come to your place. I said I would come get you.”

  “I could have met you. I’d have preferred it. Where is he?”

  Lana frowned like she was trying to explain something obvious. “I just thought it was time we talk. Just the two of us.”

  “Lana, there’s nothing to talk about. That was a year ago. People change.”

  She looked around uneasily. “Have they made you partner yet?”

  “They’ll vote after this trial. But I’ve been assured I’ll make it.”

  “That sounds familiar.” There was relief in her voic
e.

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. “What happened to you, David? That’s all I want to know.”

  “I’m tired of people asking me that.”

  “I remember when we met, at Terry’s party. You had just started working there. Do you remember what you told me that night?”

  “I can’t say I do.”

  “You said you’d probably work this job a year or two and then move on.”

  “That was before I knew how good I was at it.”

  “I just wish you could see what it’s done to you. You used to be sweet and caring. Now all you care about is winning.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Lana, you were one of the reasons I stayed with it. I really wanted us to make it.”

  She wiped her eyes, still shaking her head. “No, that’s not true, David. You never did any of it for me. You might have thought you did. But I was just part of your dream. I fit the image of the new life you were going for. The new car. Impressing Terry. I should have known better.”

  He sat in silence for a moment. “So you went out and shacked up with my best friend.”

  “David, we were living a lie, and you know it. You still are.”

  “I was always honest with you.”

  “How could you be, when you weren’t honest with yourself?”

  “But I was honest with you. And that’s more than you can say.”

  She looked ready to cry and avoided it with a chuckle. “I never could win an argument with you.”

  David smiled. “I guess I was at an advantage.”

  “The past few years, I always knew that once you made partner, the David I knew would be gone forever.” She placed her warm hand on his cheek. “Is he still in there? The guy who used to laugh uncontrollably? The guy who would argue with a stranger on the street about what’s right?”

  He wanted to tell her he hadn’t changed, he just couldn’t afford her idealism. But he was too angry to say anything—mainly because he feared she was right.

  “I wish you knew you didn’t have to do this to prove anything to yourself. Nothing from the past matters, David. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. How many times have I told you that?”

  “How many times have I told you I’m not?”

  “You were never honest with me about your parents.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter, Lana. It didn’t matter what happened to them. I’m not like you. I don’t have a family like you. It’s just me, and my job, and whoever I can trust. Don’t you understand that?”

  Lana glanced across the living room at the Stratocaster perched on the mantle. She shook her head. “You’re awful proud of that thing.”

  David shrugged.

  “Was it worth it?”

  He played dumb.

  “I mean, me leaving. You tell me for years you’re saving up for a ring. Then you come home with that and tell me it took all your savings.”

  “I told you to please trust me. That I had to do it.”

  “But you never even play it. It just sits here. A twenty-thousand-dollar monument to your selfishness. Was it worth it?”

  David shook his head. Then he bit his lip, his turn to dry his eyes. “That was my dad’s guitar, Lana. He hocked it the week before—the week before, you know, he died. He wanted to leave me some money to help get by. So he sold that to a pawnshop. It was a collector’s guitar even then, and he sells it to a pawnshop.” He shook his head. “I found some paperwork on it when I was going through his stuff one night. When I started working here, when I had some money coming in, I hired a broker, gave him the serial number. Said if he ever ran across the guitar, I wanted to buy it. I guess the timing wasn’t right.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that? I would have understood.”

  “I guess I didn’t want you to know.”

  “You pushed me away.”

  He nodded. “I have been living a lie, Lana. Just trying to prove, I guess, prove that a guy like me, my father’s son, can make it in this world. I never believed you liked a guy like me for who I am.”

  She touched his cheek, her eyes flickering with empathy.

  “I was so relieved when I found out you were with Justin. It justified how I felt, even if I had driven you to it.”

  “David—”

  But he walked away and took the guitar from the mantle. “You know, since I bought this, I haven’t been able to play. I can’t strum a single chord. Not on this or any other guitar. I feel too guilty. I feel like if my old man saw what I had become, he’d kick my ass and take my guitar from me. I’m a fucking sellout.”

  She met him at the mantle, took the guitar away, and returned it gently to the stand. She left her fingers on the neck for a moment and fought back tears. She turned and held him. “I’m sorry for what I did. For everything. I need to know you’re going to be okay.”

  He pulled away and nodded. “I won’t be if I don’t get to talk to Justin. Will he talk to me?”

  She nodded. “He’ll try. Losing his job has really gotten to him.”

  “He got over it when the firm let him go.”

  “This is different. He liked this job. And he made a mistake.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  She shook her head. “He never explained it well. I don’t know that I’d understand it if he did. Something about the loan you guys were fighting over.”

  David grabbed his keys. “Where is he, Lana?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The pub was bustling with holiday cheer. David scanned the bar, knowing right where to find Justin. Sure enough, there he sat, hunched over at their old meeting place, staring at his stout like it was a crystal ball.

  “How you doing, old sport?” David asked as he took the next stool.

  Justin looked up, but avoided eye contact. He was unshaven, and looked like he’d aged about ten years in the past few months. “I miss this place. Not Fort Gaspar, but this bar.”

  “I haven’t been here much since you left. I guess I’ve been busy.”

  “They make you partner yet?”

  David shook his head.

  Justin grunted. “I hope you fail.”

  “Thanks. I can see why you’d say that.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know—you’re drunk.”

  “Well, yes, that too.” Justin belched.

  David studied Justin’s mane. “I never knew you could grow the beard of a Civil War general.”

  “Neither did I. Funny the things you learn about yourself when you’re unemployed.”

  David saw the window opening and didn’t want to let it close. “So what happened, man?”

  Justin was fighting back tears already. “I messed up. I really messed up, man.” There was no fighting them now, and he started sobbing into the palms of his hands.

  David patted his old friend on the back and gave him a moment. Then he reached down into his bag. “I just received this in the middle of trial. It’s the check the insurance company cut to pay off the mortgage.”

  Justin stopped crying on a dime. His bloodshot eyes met David’s. “So?”

  “Meridian Bank of Miami was acting as a loan servicer. You sold the loan.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Is that why you were fired?”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then why are you here? Why did you ride two hours to come to Fort Gaspar?”

  “Because Lana made me. And, like I said, I miss this bar.”

  David glanced down and saw a backpack resting on the floor to the right of Justin’s barstool. “You ever hear of a company named Xerxes Capital?”

  “Nope,” Justin said, fighting another swell of emotion.

  “Why’d you sell the loan, Justin? Afraid I was going to kick your ass?”

  “Actually, I was afraid we were going to kick yours. And I didn’t want to have anything to do
with your downfall, regardless of what you did to me.”

  “Too late for that, isn’t it? I mean, here I am. I’m on the precipice, old sport. I’m at the crossroads, looking down into the water. It’s murky as hell. Not really a place I want to go. So if you can shed some light down there for me, it could help me out a lot.”

  Justin sat still, tight-lipped.

  David stood up to leave. “All right, thanks anyway.”

  As he started to move away, Justin finally spoke. “Right around the time you filed suit, we entered into negotiations with a company, a hedge fund of some sort. We didn’t know much about them.”

  David returned to the barstool and pushed every thought out of his mind except what Justin had to say.

  “That’s why we were really dragging Pinnacle along with the forbearance. We wanted to sell their loan. This company that came along was interested in distressed loans. They came in low-balling the note on Gaspar Towers.”

  “When was this?” David asked.

  “January. Not long after I started.”

  “Shit,” David muttered. That was right around the time Alton first mentioned Dan Chase and Steve Salvo.

  “What?” Justin said.

  “Nothing, keep going.”

  Justin shrugged. “I think they offered thirty cents on the dollar. I probably countered at ninety. But we were over-secured, especially if you took into consideration the escrow deposits.” He took a sip of beer.

  “So what happened?”

  “We talked for months. Eventually agreed on sixty percent, about eleven million. My boss just wanted it off the books. Only other condition—we had to remain servicer of the loan. They didn’t want to litigate. Something to do with regulations in their country, wherever that was.”

  “Did you ever talk to anyone there? A guy named Dan Chase or Steve Salvo?”

  Justin shook his head.

  “You have the loan purchase agreement?” David asked.

  “Funny you should ask.” Justin almost lost his balance as he leaned over for his backpack. He opened it and pulled out a soiled document that obviously had endured many nights in Justin’s ruminating hands. Beer, sweat, and tears. “Take a look.”