by Dave Daren
“Let me check,” the woman said.
She sounded like she hadn’t slept for days, and I wondered if that was her natural disposition or if working in an oncologist’s office just sucked the life out of her. I could hear her tap away at the keyboard, just as the other woman had, and then there was a long pause when all I could hear was someone talking in the background.
“Here it is,” she said. “Oh, yes. Mrs. Jasmine Torres. We have her set up for her first appointment next Tuesday. The doctor will need to run some tests to determine how far the cancer has progressed.”
“Right,” I responded while I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. “What time is the test?”
“It’s at 10:00 a.m.,” the receptionist answered. “Will you be with her, or will she be driving herself?”
“She’ll either be with me or her friend,” I said.
“Perfect,” the tired woman replied, and I heard her yawn. “The tests can be a little exhausting emotionally and physically so you’ll want someone to be with her after she leaves here or to check in on her that day.”
“Right,” I said, and made a mental note to clear my schedule for next Tuesday.
I might be able to convince her to let me cook, though I was sure that my mama would fight me tooth and nail to be in her kitchen until she couldn’t stand it any longer. If I could convince her it was for my own emotional health, though, then she might concede.
“Does your mother have insurance?” the receptionist asked while she tapped on some keys.
The sound reminded me of when Rina would type, and I guessed that the tired woman on the other end of the line had acrylic nails as well.
“She does,” I said. “Are you ready for the information?”
“Yes,” the woman managed to say before she yawned again. “We’ll have to run her insurance through our system. Whatever isn’t covered will need to be paid before any tests can be run.”
“Of course,” I responded.
I’d gotten a copy of my mother’s insurance card from her that morning, and she’d fought me a bit, but in the end I’d convinced her to let me take care of her by dealing with the bills so she could focus on getting better. She’d known, of course, that the costs of the tests and treatment would be more than she could handle, so she had begrudgingly given me the card. She’d muttered to herself in Spanish that she’d pay me back as soon as she was better, and she ignored me when I told her that wouldn’t be necessary.
“Okay,” the woman said after I’d read out my mother’s information. “It seems that your mother’s insurance won’t cover very much.”
The woman sounded even more exhausted than before, and I had the feeling that the cost was going to be much higher than I had expected the first tests to be.
“So what does that mean for us?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“It looks like you’ll have to pay for most of the treatment and tests out of pocket,” the receptionist replied with a small sigh. “It’s going to be very expensive.”
“How much?” I questioned, and my heart squeezed in my chest as I waited for the answer.
“It’ll be in the thousands,” she muttered like she didn’t want to say the words out loud. “And that’s just for the first few tests. It’ll be a few more thousand once the doctor comes up with a treatment plan, and the treatments aren’t cheap”
“Right,” I mumbled. “Alright, well, I’ll give you my credit card information. Can you email me a receipt?”
“Of course,” the woman said as her nails clicked on her keyboard. “I’m ready when you are.”
I pulled out my credit card and read off the numbers to her, and then gave her my email address so she could send me the receipt and any future bills that my mother would have.
“You’re all set,” the receptionist said when we were done. “We’ll get those tests run on Tuesday. Dr. Brown is one of the best in Miami. He’ll take good care of your mother.”
“Thanks,” I responded while I blinked back more tears as I thought of my mom in chemo. “Have a nice day.”
“You, too,” the woman said.
I hung up the phone and just stared at the cubicle wall for a few long minutes as I processed. I knew the bills would be high, it was cancer treatment after all, but her insurance had been even more useless than I’d imagined.
The offer from Hancock, Garcia, and Smith was a substantial raise from what I was currently making, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover my expenses and my mother’s no matter how much I cut back. I might be able to work for the prestigious law firm while I picked up a few cases from the Public Defender’s Office, but that would mean I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and I needed to be at my best to take care of my mother when she started her treatments.
I stared at my briefcase where the poorly-typed offer from Alvaro Cruz laid hidden, and wondered if it was worth it to accept the position. The guy had said it would just be a few import issues, paperwork, and contracts, but their ties to the Cuban cartel were a big concern. Would I be expected to handle any of the cartel’s issues that came up as well? Did that mean I would have to defend them in a Federal criminal case?
It came down to my morals or my mother. I had to choose one, and as I stared at my briefcase the decision seemed easy.
Family always came first.
Chapter 4
“Welcome back!” the gruff gatesman from my previous visit exclaimed as I pulled up to the gatehouse for the Fuentes Shipping Company.
His small TV mumbled in the background as he leaned out of his window, and I thought I heard someone shout about a cheating husband over the buzzing of the fan that swung lazily back and forth from the corner of his desk.
“Good morning,” I replied with a smile as I took a steadying breath.
I was back for my first meeting with the mysterious president, a man I’d found very little about in my Google searches. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, since I knew many corporate bigwigs liked to keep a low profile, though maybe not as low as the man I was about to meet.
“I hear you’re meeting with the boss today?” the hairy, muscular man said with a lopsided grin that showed his missing teeth.
“I am,” I replied and was grateful that my voice didn’t shake as I thought about the potentially high ranking cartel member I was about to meet.
I was there for my mother, and so far no one had given me any reason to be afraid of them. And aside from the old stereotypes, I had no real reason to believe these men were members of the cartel. At least, that’s what I told myself.
“Well, you know the way,” the cheerful man said as he reached over to press a button for the gate. “Did they tell you what office you’re going to?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “It’s two doors down from Mr. Cruz’s office.”
“Great,” the guard nodded his head. “Make sure you don’t wander around. They got a big shipment in so there’s a lot of heavy equipment on the floors. You can just go straight up to the meeting room, and the boss’ll head over when he’s ready.”
“Okay,” I replied. “See you later.”
I gave the burly man a wave and then eased on the gas as I drove through the chain link gate once again. It felt like I’d driven through this same gate hundreds of times already even though it was only my second visit to the company. I decided to take that as a good omen, and I was smiling as I pulled up to the warehouse.
The guard hadn’t exaggerated about how busy the warehouse was. Each of the three large rolling metal doors were open, and a shipping container sat just inside each door. A swarm of rough-looking men rushed around the floor like busy worker bees while they avoided the fork lifts that carried off the heavier crates.
I parked my beat-up old blue Honda Civic next to the two luxury cars that occupied the president and vice president’s spots, and added car shopping to my very long to-do list. I grabbed my briefcase and then headed into the warehouse. The extra workers multiplied the c
acophony of noise that bounced around the massive cement room, and I wondered how they could even hear the instructions from the team leaders.
I climbed the stairs and glanced toward Alvaro’s office as I passed. The door was shut, but a tall shadow moved behind the frosted glass window, and I hurried down to the conference room that I was supposed to wait in.
The meeting room had a long wooden table with a phone in the middle, leather chairs with high backs, and a wall of windows that looked out over the docks and ships below. The windows were high enough that even Alvaro wouldn’t have to bend down to look out of them, and they let in enough natural sunlight that I didn’t even need to turn the fluorescent lights on. The walls were the same concrete gray as the rest of the building, and the floor was covered with the thin black and gray squares of carpet that had adorned Alvaro’s office. The only decoration in the plain room was a tall, thin palm tree that leaned toward the windows in a quest for sunlight.
I looked down the hall before I walked in, but Alvaro’s office door was still shut. With a sigh, I stepped inside the meeting room to wait and convince myself that I really was doing the right thing.
I left the door open for the two men I was supposed to meet with and took a seat that faced the hall. I’d just finished adjusting the height of the chair when the two men walked in, and I jumped up to walk around the table and offer my hand to the man who had to be the boss.
The president of Fuentes Shipping was shorter than me by a few inches, and he had a deep scar that started under his right eye, curved toward his nose and then back out to his ear. He was a beast of a man with thick muscles hidden beneath a decent level of fat, and despite the well-tailored suit, I was pretty sure the man could snap me in half without effort. He had a scowl on his face that made the giant vice president behind him seem like he was a ray of sunshine, and he somehow took up the entire room with his presence the moment he stepped inside.
“Mr. Torres,” my new boss said with a flash of a smile that revealed three of his teeth on the right were gold. “My name is Osvaldo Fuentes. I’m the president of Fuentes Shipping.”
He reached out to take my offered hand and gave it one solid shake before he dropped it. Even that one quick shake had been painful, and I flexed my fingers to try and get the circulation back.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” he continued. “I’ve heard good things.”
As soon as he stopped talking his scowl covered his face again, and my heart raced as I wondered how terrifying he would be if he was actually angry.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Fuentes,” I said with more confidence than I felt in the moment.
“Shall we?” the Cuban man asked with a gesture for me to sit.
“Yes, sir,” I responded as I took my chair. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me personally.”
“I wanted to assess you for myself,” the businessman said as he took his chair at the head of the table and folded his hands across the top of the smooth surface. “I like to make sure my employees are worth my time.”
Alvaro took his place in the corner of the room, and he blended in with the shadows so well that I could almost forget he was there despite his height and looming figure.
“Of course,” I said with a nod of my head as I forced my attention back to the president of the shipping company.
My mouth had gone dry, and I tried to swallow inconspicuously but the sound was so loud that the scarred man lifted an eyebrow at me as he flashed a gold-toothed smile.
“I’m sure my second told you we need you to do some jobs for us?” the beefy man asked with a glance toward the tall shadow in the corner of the room.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
I couldn’t decide if I should look him in the eye or not. Would I be challenging his dominance if I did? In the end, my mother’s training won out, and I looked the beefy man directly in the eyes as we talked.
“Good,” Osvaldo gave me a once over.
His scowl still pulled on the corners of his lips, and I tried not to look at the deep scar that marred his right cheek, though I couldn’t help but wonder who had been brave enough to strike the muscular man.
“We need a corporate attorney,” he continued. “Someone who can help with all of our business affairs and when any of our boys find themselves tangled in legal matters.”
“I would represent your employees as well?” I asked.
“Of course,” the muscular company president said. “Any good company looks after its employees. And I’d expect you to represent them as if it were me.”
He pinned me with a look that made my stomach flip, and my mind drifted back to that scene in some movie where the guy was tied up and thrown off the docks. Not that Fuentes had said anything untoward, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him calmly giving such a command.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I realized I’d probably see many more trials like Diego’s in the future.
“Good,” Fuentes replied. “You’ve reviewed our proposal, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied with a nod of my head.
I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands so I put them in my lap and wiped the sweat from their palms. Something that might have been a grin flitted Fuentes’ face as I tried to dry my hands.
“It’s a generous offer,” I added.
“Like I said,” the muscular man said. “Any good company takes care of its employees.”
He looked me up and down as if he could tell everything about my character just from that one quick study, and after a few agonizing seconds, he nodded his head like he was satisfied with what he found. He looked toward the shadow in the corner again and then reached across the table to offer me his hand.
“Do we have a deal, then?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I took his meaty paw in mine for another finger crushing shake.
“Good, then it’s settled,” Fuentes said with another quick smile that dissolved into a scowl before I could blink.
I shifted in my chair as I waited for him to produce a contract, but he just leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach.
“But before we give you a contract to sign, I want to see you in action,” he informed me when the silence began to drag on. “And if you pass, we’ll get to the paperwork.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked as I looked around the gray room and wondered what kind of test run he wanted me to perform.
“You’ll be dismissed immediately,” Osvaldo responded in a flat, no-nonsense tone. “And we’ll find another attorney.”
“Is there a contract that you need me to review?” I asked, though I wasn’t quite sure how that would work with the two of them sitting in the same room.
Maybe it would be like law school, where they tossed out questions and asked me to come up with a solution as quickly as I could. But those questions had been asked by men and women with decades of experience in their respective fields. Somehow, I didn’t see Alvaro or Fuentes as legal experts.
“No, no,” the beefy man waved his hand dismissively and then glanced over to Alvaro.
The vice president finally emerged from the corner, and I had to admit, it was an intimidating sight even though I knew he was there. He reached inside his jacket, and I was convinced he was going to pull out a gun. Instead, his hand emerged with a manila folder that he handed to Fuentes without a word. Before he stepped back into the shadows, Alvaro gave me a quick glance and what I thought was a nod of approval for my performance so far.
“There was an issue on the loading docks a couple of weeks ago,” the company president said as he passed the folder to me. “Just a minor accident. But OSHA wants to do an inspection.”
“Of course,” I nodded while I flipped open the file. “How long until the inspector gets here?”
“Thirty minutes,” Alvaro said in his soft, deep voice.
“Okay,” I said with a nod of my head as I looked up from the reports.
I’d t
aken a labor and employment law class my second year of law school when I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to specialize in. The OSHA rules and regulations had been a big focus, and I was sure that I remembered enough to get through one accident inspection.
“What do you think, jipato?” Osvaldo asked.
The nickname brought a smile to my face. It was what my mother had called my father for his pale skin despite his Cuban heritage, and I knew it would bring a smile to my exhausted mama’s face to hear that someone had given the same nickname to me.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” I said. “I’ll need to see the dock area where it happened.”
If I could squeeze in a quick Google search, then I would be prepared enough to answer any of the inspector’s questions as well as offer any relevant arguments against the need for any further action. One good thing about federal agencies like OSHA was that their websites always had relevant material available if you knew where to look.
“Great,” Fuentes said.
“Let me just take a few minutes…” I muttered as I read through the report again.
I pulled my phone out as well and looked up the relevant regulations that had been cited in the report as well as a few others I vaguely remembered from my law school class. I perused the OSHA website for similar cases and made mental notes as I pored over the material.
When twenty-eight minutes had passed, Fuentes clapped his hands together loud enough to hurt my ears. When the sound finally died away, I thought I’d gone deaf for a moment, but the noise from the floor soon filled the room again.
“This government man will be meeting us at the spot,” Alvaro explained as he walked toward the door.
“Was the accident in this building?” I asked as I stood and then walked around the conference table to join the two men.
I thought about the accident that I’d heard during my first interview, it hadn’t seemed like there was anyone hurt. But if Alvaro had glared down at me like he had with the men that day, I was pretty sure I would’ve pretended that I was okay for the moment, too. Though that was only a few days ago, and Osvaldo had said the incident in question had happened weeks ago.
