Buying Time (16 page)

Erickson remained motionless as Ashley recited the address. She slammed down the phone and rushed back to her mother’s bedside.

When he heard the rattle of keys that signaled Sophia’s return, Erickson finally seemed to snap out of his fog. He charged down the hallway and pulled open the front door before Sophia could retrieve her key from the lock. “Claire’s not breathing!”

Sophia darted past him into the bedroom where Ashley stood over her mother, holding her hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Sophia moved her aside, felt for Claire’s pulse, then hung her head.

“I don’t understand,” Sophia cried. “Except for feeling a little depressed this morning, she was fine. How can she be dead?” She reached out to comfort Ashley, who pushed her away and lashed out at Erickson.

“He did it!” she charged. “He killed her!”

Erickson reeled backward. “What? Are you crazy?”

“You wanted us to dump her in a hospice. And since we wouldn’t, you killed her!”

Sophia tried to embrace her niece. “Calm down, Ashley. Please calm down.”

Ashley pulled away and swung her fist toward Erickson, just missing his face as Sophia stepped between them.

“You’re not going to get away with this!” Ashley shrieked. “I swear to God, you’re not getting away with it!”

W
averly parked his Lexus across two stalls at an Episcopal church on Slauson in Ladera Heights. He was there to speak to a support group for terminally ill patients and their families.

His presentations had dropped off after his business started to blossom, but with the recent influx of cash coming in from Rico, he needed to find more dying people than ever. Vincent had recently supplied him with a list of groups where he’d have a good shot at picking up some new clients. The church was first on the list.

Luckily, Waverly had established a solid network of oncologists, probate lawyers and ministers who regularly referred terminally ill people in need of financial help. Since his forced business arrangement with Rico, he had upped his finder’s fee to thirteen hundred dollars for patients with a life expectancy of six months or less. The finder’s fee was a pittance compared to all the money he was raking in.

After a few days, Waverly resigned himself to his situation with Rico. He had purchased three policies in the name of Goldman Investments and, so far, no glitches.

The meeting was just about to commence when Waverly walked in. There were about thirty people in the room, mostly female, evenly divided between blacks and whites. He gave the group leader brochures to pass around, took a seat and waited to be introduced.

Waverly looked across a narrow aisle to his left and saw an attractive young woman with sandy brown hair styled in a short, spiky cut. Her eyes were a vivid blue, but conveyed a heavy sadness. She smiled at him and Waverly acknowledged the greeting with a nod and return smile.

The group leader asked everyone to stand so that they could begin the meeting with a prayer. When she instructed them to hold hands, the woman reached across the aisle and took Waverly’s hand. As the group leader prayed, Waverly glanced down at his hand entwined with the woman’s, then up at the profile of her face. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be mouthing her own private prayer. She did not look ill and Waverly hoped she was at the meeting for a family member, not herself. She couldn’t be a day over twenty-five.

Following the prayer and a short introduction, Waverly was invited up to the podium. He began with a basic explanation of a viatical settlement and how it could help those in financial need. He did not anticipate any tough questions. The working-class groups always seemed to take him at his word. When he finished his presentation, he urged anyone who was interested to contact him at the number on the brochure.

Waverly had just stepped outside the room when he spotted the young woman who had taken his hand standing at the end of the hallway. She appeared to be waiting for him.

“Thanks for your presentation,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m Britney. Britney Hillard. I’d like to talk to you about a viati—” she looked down at the brochure as she struggled to pronounce the word.

“Viatical settlement,” Waverly said, finishing for her.

Britney smiled shyly. “Yes, that. I have colon cancer. I just finished up my second round of radiation. I still have an insurance policy through my job. I brought a copy with me.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to him.

Waverly knew right away that he probably couldn’t help her. These days, colon cancer patients lived for years. If she was undergoing radiation rather than chemo, that meant she had a good chance for survival. He always found it difficult to tell people that he couldn’t help them because they weren’t dying fast enough. He could not bring himself to say those words to Britney.

He took the envelope. “Why don’t we schedule an appointment?” He pulled his BlackBerry from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m fairly open this week.”

“I never know how I’m going to feel from day to day,” Britney said. “It’s a miracle I had the energy to come to this meeting. Would you have a few minutes to talk with me right now?”

Waverly hesitated. He didn’t want to waste the woman’s time, or his own.

Britney gave him a pleading look. “There’s a Sizzler across from the Fox Hills Mall. We can go there. My treat.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.”

Waverly reluctantly followed her out of the building. As he started up his car, a gloomy feeling engulfed him. He talked to sick and dying people on a regular basis and always managed to detach himself emotionally.

Something told him he was going to have a hard time doing that with Britney.

T
wo things prompted a change in Dre’s million-dollar plan. Getting ripped off and a call from Angela inviting him to dinner. That had to mean she had finally called off her engagement.

Dre was a little more than one hundred grand short of reaching his million-dollar goal, but he had grudgingly come to the conclusion that he had to find a safer way to get there. Most dudes were too stupid or too greedy to know when to quit. Dre saw the handwriting on the wall.

To move his plan forward, Dre set up a meeting with a buddy from his old neighborhood who owned a real estate investment firm. Willie Ross and Dre had been homeboys since fifth grade. Willie knew Dre’s vocation and had been trying to convince him to get out of the game for years. Willie was the real estate broker Dre used to buy his foreclosures.

As Dre sat in the reception area of Willie’s office at Crenshaw and Vernon, he wondered how his life would have turned out if he had taken the straight and narrow. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the smarts. But sometimes circumstances took you in a different direction.

Willie walked into the reception area and embraced him warmly. He was a stocky, muscular guy with a baby face.

“Nice suit,” Dre said, a bit of wistfulness in his voice.

“Thanks, man. You know I love me some Armani. C’mon back.”

Willie attended Southern University and spent a few years playing minor league baseball. When he realized that he wasn’t going to make it to the pros, he married a real estate agent and started buying and selling fixer uppers. He eventually began soliciting investors to buy commercial property and was doing quite well for himself.

Dre followed him down a wide hallway to a small office that looked out over a strip mall.

“It’s time,” Dre said, before he was even seated. “I’m ready to go one hundred percent legit.”

Willie grinned good-naturedly. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been worried about you, bruh. That’s a crazy life you livin’. Few guys are smart enough to get out in time. Does that gash on the side of your head have anything to do with your decision?”

Dre absently touched his face. “Yeah, man. I got robbed the other night. The dudes got me for fifteen big ones. Cash money.”

“Ouch,” Willie said, making a face.

“Exactly.” Dre hesitated. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy who couldn’t contain what he was feeling. “And I also met this female.”

“Okay, okay,” Willie said, nodding and smiling. “I can see from the expression on your face that she must be something special.”

“Definitely.” Dre’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “And if I’m goin’ to step to her, my situation has to be straight.”

“She doesn’t know anything about your line of work?”

“Naw, man. And trip this, she’s a lawyer.”

Willie’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Dawg, you need to tell her your situation. That’s not something she should find out in the street.”

“I plan to. But when I tell her I’m out, I want to be completely out. That’s why I’m here.”

“You interested in picking up some more property?”

“Yeah, but instead of fixer uppers, let’s look into some apartment buildings. I’m ready to be a landlord. Something small. Five, maybe ten units.”

“Okay, I’ll get to work on it. I assume you’re still mostly in cash.”

“Yeah. That a problem?”

“Naw. I’ll work it out.” Willie was legit. For the most part. “Where’d you meet this lady?”

“I was at the gym just mindin’ my own business. She just couldn’t resist my charm.” Dre stroked his goatee. “And don’t laugh when I tell you this, but I ain’t even got with her yet and I still can’t stop thinkin’ about her.”

“Damn, dawg, she’s got your nose this wide open and you ain’t even hit it yet? What you waiting for, bruh?”

“It’s all about timing, man. I really want my situation to be right before I make my move.”

“Is she special enough to put a ring on her finger?”

Dre cocked his head. “That’s a possibility,” he said, smiling.

Willie chuckled. “I never thought I’d see you go down for the count, bruh. But I’m happy you found yourself a good lady. I hope everything works out for you.”

“It will,” Dre said. “It will.”

When Dre walked into Baja Cantina on Washington, he found Angela seated at the bar.

“Ain’t this a little close to home?” he asked. Dre didn’t know exactly where Angela lived, but Playa Vista wasn’t that far away. “Ain’t you worried about runnin’ into dude?”

“Cornell hates Mexican food.”

Dre was encouraged by her lack of concern.
Had she already kicked dude to the curb?

They settled in at a table near the fire pit. After the waitress took their drink orders, they munched on chips and salsa and made small talk. On the drive over, Dre decided that he would be patient and wait for Angela to broach the subject of her wedding. Ten minutes in, he realized he couldn’t hold out.

Dre pointed to her left hand. “Does that mean you made your decision?”

Angela was still wearing her engagement ring.

She smiled. “Yes and no. I’m still wearing the ring because I don’t want people at work asking me a bunch of questions that I don’t want to answer. But, yes, I made my decision.”

Dre held his breath and waited.

“I told Cornell that I wanted to break off the engagement,” she continued. “He basically told me I was being emotional and asked me to reconsider until we could talk about it.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I would. But since then, he’s been pretending like I never brought it up.”

Dre tried to keep the disappointment off his face. “You’re goin’ through with it then?”

“Nope. I just need some time to get my ducks in a row. I can’t up and leave without a plan.”

“I see.”

“Sounds like you don’t believe me,” Angela said.

Dre hung his arm over the back of his chair. “When people want out of a relationship, they get out. When they don’t, they find excuses to stay.”

Angela started to say something, then reached for her purse instead. “I have something to show you.” She removed an envelope and handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it.”

Dre pulled out several legal-size sheets of paper stapled together. It took him a few seconds, but when he finally realized that he was holding the lease papers for Angela’s new apartment, a big grin spread across his face. “Okay, so you
are
serious.”

“Yep, I think I am.”

Angela’s apartment was in Ladera Heights on Springpark Avenue. That was practically jogging distance from Dre’s place.

Dre could not stop smiling. He refolded the papers and slid them into the envelope. He had just handed the envelope back, when he stopped her.

“Hold up. Let me see that again.” He unfolded the papers and scanned the second page. “You don’t move in until the first of the month. You gotta hang with dude until then? Is that gonna be cool?”

“I’m telling him this weekend, then I’m moving in with my sister until the first.”

“Why you even gotta wait that long? Tell him tonight.”

“I need to get some things in order first. It’s only a few days and I’ll be working late every night this week. I also want to start packing up some of my stuff. I’m sure Cornell won’t even notice.”

“You want me to be there when you tell him?”

Angela laughed. “Oh, that would go over real well.”

“Well, I can at least help you move.”

“No, thanks. My sister’s going to help me. I don’t have that much stuff anyway. Mostly clothes and odds and ends. All of the furniture is Cornell’s. He made me sell most of my stuff when we decided to live together.”

“You can crash with me if you want,” Dre offered.

“Thanks, but I really don’t want Cornell to think I’m breaking off our engagement because of another man.”

“What about the wedding?” Dre asked. “Have you cancelled it yet?”

“Nope, but the cancellation announcements are all addressed and sitting in the trunk of my car.”

“When you talk to dude, if he gets crazy, I want you to call me,” Dre said. “I mean it.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. What’re you going to do? Come over and beat him up?”

“If I have to, yeah.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t beat you up?”