Authors: Tony Lindsay
One Dead Lawyer (10 page)
“Was he unable to get erect?”
“No not at all, he got good and hard at the drop of a hat, or should I say, the drop of a shoe. Whenever I slid my shoes off a lump would start going in his trousers. Do you mind rubbing my feet a little, these aren't my walking shoes?”
I'm good at foot massages, but I use them for foreplay and since the bedroom wasn't on the schedule that afternoon, all I did was rub her feet.
“How long were you with him?”
“Well, I met him while bird-dogging for Randolph. He was an impressive young African American attorney with ambition. To me he was all that and a bag of chips. He convinced Randolph to pay for my last year at Roosevelt and all of my law school. What's that, five years? He's been leaving me with wet toes for five years.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
“He did for me, and Randolph thought it was a good idea. There was a time when Randolph's words were gold to me. Whatever he suggested, this girl did. It was Randolph who put me onto the first real money that came my way.
“I was driving Daddy's raggedy Ford Tempo when a beer truck ran me into a storefront. I wasn't injured, but the fire department did have to cut me out of the car. An ambulance took me to the hospital. While they were rolling me in, Randolph popped up on the side of the gurney and asked me if I had a lawyer. I said no. He told me I was wrong and that he was my lawyer.
“The next thing I knew, I was in another ambulance going to a hospital out in the western suburbs. Three weeks later when I got out of the hospital, Randolph paid me fifteen thousand dollars. When the beer company settled, I got a new Volvo and another ten thousand.
“I gave my daddy two grand and moved out. I started bird-dogging, that's recruiting people to be in staged accidents, in case you didn't know what bird-dogging was, for Randolph full time.
“He had full-time dispatchers who monitored police, fire, and ambulance calls for legitimate accident-victim clients. Randolph put a two-way radio in my car and bought me some business suits. Then he taught me what to say to people who had just been pulled from a wreck and were on their way to a hospital. He taught me how to console and offer wealth all in one sentence. Randolph plugged me in. I was taking care of my son, my folks and me.
“Every eighteen months or so I would be in an accident and get a big check. I started buying property with the big checks. The first house I bought was my daddy's. He had two mortgages on a house he got with a VA loan. He wept tears of joy when I put the deed on his dresser.
“When Martin came into my life, I thought I was financially secure, my property was taking care of me; he showed me different. He taught me money management. And he showed me how educated wealthy people lived. I became as wealthy as an educated professional, but I wasn't educated and in the company of the educated, so I felt inferior.
“When Martin and I started dating, he took me to events I ignored in the past: galas, political functions, charitable events and society weddings. Our pictures were popping up in newspapers and local magazines. I was traveling in the same circles as Regina and her mother. That's how Regina's and my friendship got started. We continued to run into each other.
“After one of the mayor's parties I mentioned to Martin that I felt undereducated among his crowd. He agreed that I was and to show that he lived in the âsolution and not the problem,' he promised to get all my tuition paid, undergraduate and graduate if I so desired.
“My mother didn't raise a fool, D. I went back to school and got my law degree. Was it worth five years of wet toes? Yes, in the long run it was.”
“Why did you dump him?”
“Baby, please, why didn't I dump him sooner is the question. The graduate education changed my outlook on life. I try not to settle, D. It leaves one unsatisfied. This morning you gave me satisfaction in areas of my life that have been pruned by settling. My law degree caused me to think larger, to grow. I've grown past settling.
“I refuse to be with a man who doesn't care about my son. I am not settling for a man who doesn't respect me, nor am I settling for a man who would rather lick my toes than my clit. Life is too good for settling. Five years of wet toes is enough. I am now a practicing attorney and more than capable of finding a man who knows how to satisfy me.” She winked at me.
“Oh yeah, sounds like you saying I knocked the brother out of the box?”
“Maybe.” Her feet dropped from my lap. She pressed her full lips against my neck, sucked on my flesh, then repeated, “Maybe.”
I checked my Rolex to see if there was enough time to go under her camisole; there wasn't. The meeting with Martin was less than twenty minutes away.
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Jackie's had been one of my favorite places to meet and eat for years. They cook like my family. The crispy salmon croquettes we ordered, along with the pan-fried cornbread, okra and peas, and even the hand-squeezed lemonade; all would have easily been at home on my mother's table.
The folks who patronize Jackie's restaurant come to eat; there is not a lot eavesdropping when the food is good. I'd allowed Stanley to drive us over to the restaurant. He enjoyed chauffeuring us, and was in a pretty good mood behind it. He'd said he'd driven a Caddy just like mine before. Martin's I guessed.
Sitting in a booth waiting for our food, Stanley turned to his mother and said, “Ma, I'm sorry for lying to you about the money. I was scared. I only tried to take your money because I knew I had money coming from Martin. If you would have given it to me, I would have paid you back. Fo' real, Ma. And as soon as Martin gives me the check, I'm going to call dude and this is all going to be over with.” He directed his words to me and asked, “Mr. Price, would you go with me to pay dude?”
“That's what your mother hired me for, son.” I thought about the check Daphne wrote for a week's worth of protection and smiled. Carol owed her a refund.
Daphne, Stanley and I were discussing who was going to walk over and pick a selection from the jukebox, when Martin entered. He slid into the booth next to Stanley.
Daphne told him we'd ordered. He looked around at the soul food restaurant's decor, snubbed it and decided not to order. Once our food came, however, he changed his mind, and had the waitress bring him a menu.
Martin didn't strike me as a short ribs, greens and macaroni and cheese type of brother, but that's what he ordered. Nor did he strike me as a brother who licked his fingers, but he did, and that brought laughter from the three of us.
“Pardon me for that, it's been a while since I have had food . . . like . . . well prepared in such a fashion.”
“Had a flashback, huh? Went back to the days when you used to chew on chicken gristle and sop biscuits, huh? Don't worry. We won't tell anybody.” I winked at him.
He took his paper napkin from his lap and tossed it onto his plate as if he were angry, but the brother had eaten too good to be mad, and I knew it.
“Yes, well as pleasant as it may have been, shall we deal with the matter at hand? Your desertion from the firm,” he said to Daphne.
“What desertion? Martin, please, I resigned. I quit. It was a job. People leave employers all the time.”
“Not ones who have been as good to you as Randolph. Woman, he brought you from the depths of the hood. Through us you became educated and wealthy.”
“Us? Are you joined at the hip with him?”
“Not the hip, dear . . . the walletâthe same as you.”
“Martin, things happened before you came to the firm, things that you don't know about.”
“No darling, there are things you think I don't know about . . .” Both were trying to probe the other for information through the eyes. Nothing passed between them. Martin reached into his suit coat. “Here is Stanley's check. Note, I included commissions from his last case, as well as the one he has pending.”
“Cool!” was Stanley's reply reaching for the check.
“Getting rid of us, Martin?” Daphne asked.
“No, it's you leaving, and since your decision is made, I see no need in having loose threads. Clean and neat is best.”
Daphne took the check from Stanley's grasp, “Randolph didn't send a message?”
“Not by me, dear. This meeting is between us. I saw no need to mention it to Randolph.”
“The only reason you wanted to meet was to bring us Stanley's check?”
“And to add closure. Seeing you here . . . at this . . . dining establishment with him, permits me to observe you in an environment that better suits you. The lifestyle I offered was too much pressure for someone of your . . . social background. I realize that now. A simpler, slower pace is what you required, and I wish you all the best.”
Daphne snickered. She bent her head to his ear and very quietly said, “You pretentious toe-sucking freak, you best to leave before I show you how simplistic and slow I really am and rise up from here and slap you upside your motherfucking head.”
The southside came out of the girl, and ran him up out of the joint. Martin left without a word and without paying for his meal.
With Martin gone, Daphne's and my attention turned to Stanley. She laid the check on the table and handed him her cell phone. He didn't hesitate to make the call.
“Yeah what's up family, it's me, Snap . . . Yeah, I got your loot . . . I can get it to you tonight . . . Me and my uncle will meet you at the McDonald's on Forty-seventh and Cottage Grove . . . Naw, he ain't the police . . . A'ight, see you at eight, peace.”
After Stanley disconnected, I asked; “Why didn't you meet him now?”
“His mama at work and ain't nobody there to watch his little brothers and sisters.”
I wanted to, but Daphne did it. She broke out in laughter. The threatening gangster had to baby-sit. She took her cell phone from Stanley and called Eleanor.
“Girl where are you? . . . Bernice just finished your hair, so you're close by us . . . we're at Jackie's . . . girl it's only three-fifty . . . you can run over here . . . why should we drive all the way out there if you right here by us? . . . child that is too extra for me . . . Okay, I see your point, but have Michael open the back gate. I'm not with going through your forest to get to you. Love you too, babe.” She flipped the phone closed and looked to Stanley and me. “Yes, it's a bit out of our plans for today, but I need to talk with her. I hope you gentlemen don't mind?”
“No,” we gentlemen answered.
“Good, because I need to stop by the house first. I bought Eleanor something from Martha's Vineyard, and this is the perfect time to give it to her.”
Chapter Ten
It wasn't like I forgot about protecting Stanley; however it wasn't at the forefront of my mind. We were about to walk up the back steps of Daphne and Stanley's home when I saw the back door was wide open.
“Did you leave your door open?” I asked Daphne.
“No.”
Straightaway I pulled Stanley and Daphne behind me and yanked free one of the two 9 mm guns that were strapped to my person. Before I could take the first step up, Randolph appeared at the door above. He saw us and stopped cold.
In his hands he was carrying a small fire safe. Under his arms were files, and dangling from his mouth was what looked like a house key.
“Hey, Daph,” he said through clenched teeth.
Daphne pushed past me, walked up the steps and snatched the key from his mouth.
“This is Martin's key! That's why he met with us? To give you time to break into my place. For what? What could you possibly take that I wouldn't give you? There is nothing in that safe but life insurance policies. And what the heck do you want with my work files? There is nothing in those. Oh, I see, you're looking for information about the accident. God, man, I told you, you can trust me.”
“No. I can't.” He dropped the safe and files and pushed past her, almost causing Daphne to fall backward down the steps. I was going to stick it to him for that move, but Stanley beat me to it. The kid swarmed him like an octopus.
All I saw was the kid's fists, feet, knees and elbows tagging Randolph. Neither I nor Daphne moved to intervene. As a matter of fact, we both sat on the bottom step and watched her boy go to work. Whichever direction Randolph turned, there was a punch or a kick waiting for him. The kid beat him down, Randolph was on his knees trying to crawl away when Martin walked up on us.
“This is criminal! You can't beat him like that!”
“No!” Daphne jumped up from the step. “Breaking and entering is criminal. We came home and caught him red-handed with my belongings in tow. My son was protecting our domain. Now get him out of here, Martin, before I call the police!” She stomped her foot on the sidewalk and said, “Get!”
When I stood to strap my pistol back, I became cognizant of the fact that we had drawn attention to ourselves. Some of Daphne's Clark Street neighbors were at their back doors looking out at a spectacle that probably made most of them very uncomfortable: four black people standing over a crawling, crying white man in a suit.
Martin also became aware of the neighbors and tried to help Randolph up, but he kept collapsing and whimpering. It wasn't until Martin whispered that the neighbors might call an ambulance, which would in turn bring the police, did Randolph steady himself. He understood the fact that he was in the wrong. He straightened out enough to walk from the courtyard to his midnight-blue BMW SUV, which was parked in the guest slot.
While Stanley and I were watching Martin and Randolph climb into the SUV, Daphne put her possessions back in the house, retrieved Eleanor's gift from Martha's Vineyard and locked her door. She was ready to roll, and, under the observant eyes of her neighbors, so was I.
“Wow,” was all I could say sitting in Eleanor's kitchen. Every countertop, every hanging pan and most of the appliances were stainless steel. Her stove had eight jets, two ovens and a grill. She had a deep fryer just for fish and one for everything else. Her meat freezer was a walk-in, and when Stanley opened the refrigerator door to get himself some water, the vegetable crisper I saw could hold two turkeys.
Stanley, who had been here before, was making himself at home by putting together a ham-and-cheese sandwich. Daphne followed the houseman to where Eleanor was. Supposedly, Eleanor was not dressed to entertain male guests.
The houseman seemed agitated by our arrival. As big as this young brother was, I hoped it wasn't us who had him upset.
Looking at Stanley's ham sandwich reminded me of the appetite of youth. When I was his age I ate exactly like him. I considered myself lucky, it would be a while before Chester started to eat nonstop, but even at four he could put away an order of eight chicken nuggets.
As Stanley was putting the fixings back, we heard an outburst from beyond the kitchen door.
“Michael, please!”
“What! Why did you even let this sell-out-ass bitch in your house! How long y'all going to play this game! Bitch, get the fuck out of here befo' I break my foot off in yo' phony ass! I'm tired of playing these games, lady. You and my punk-ass brother can play with these fools if you want to, but playtime is over! And if y'all keep playing with these lames, y'all can go down too.”
Daphne quickly walked through the kitchen and told us it was time to go. Stanley and I both looked back at the door she came through. Somebody on the other side of it threatened her, and called her a bitch. We both went through the door and ran up to Michael.
Stanley threw the first punch, a looping left hook. Michael blocked it with his right and was about to jab Stanley in the face, except that I caught him square in his own face with two left jabs and a bone-crushing right to the chin, which dropped his big ass. Stanley and I stood over him, stomping his head and kicking him in his upper torso.
“D!” Daphne was yanking me by the back of my shirt. “D!” she screamed at me, forcing me to see her, and with seeing her, I saw the situation. I wrapped my arms around a kicking Stanley and we made an exit through the kitchen.
If the truth was told, once we got back in the car and on the road I felt good. A brother was relaxed. The tension from the past day and a half was gone. Burned off kicking that big dude's ass, but of course I had to come up with a mature way to advise Stanley not to partake in such actions again.
“Daphne, why was he cursing you out?” I asked once we got on the expressway.
“D, I have never felt so much hostility in that home in my life. Everyone in the place is on edge. And that muscle-bound butler of hers is walking around like it's his place. He is a cousin or something who just got out of prison.
Eleanor was trying to tell me something about him when he just broke into our conversation. She's scared of him, so she didn't say anything to him. I told him he was being rude and then he just lost it and started cursing me out. But some of the things he said makes me wonder . . .”
“Wonder?”
“Yes, makes me wonder how secret the secret is. Eleanor wasn't cold, but she wasn't herself either. She was guarded toward me even before that big buffoon showed his ass. If she finds the secret out before I tell her, she'll never forgive me.”
Once we got to my home I asked Stanley to feed the dogs and let them outside. Daphne went straight upstairs to my bedroom. I followed, and she dropped listlessly on my bed. The pain she felt showed through the lines of anguish that spread across her profile. Looking at her, one would think her face had never experienced a smile. Whatever the “it” was, she needed to let it out, before it ate its way out of her. My heart told me to offer comfort, but the vibe I was getting from her told me she wanted to be alone. The clock on my night table read 6:45
P.M.
Stanley's business had to be taken care of soon.
P.M.
Stanley's business had to be taken care of soon.
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I went into my bathroom and wet a clean face towel with warm water. It was minor, but I couldn't think of anything else that might comfort her.
I told her Stanley and I were going to get a friend of mine to go with us to pay off his problem. She reached in her purse, pulled out a pen and the check from Martin. She endorsed it and handed it to me without a word said. She rolled under the covers and pulled them over her head, still dressed in her new suit.
When I got downstairs to the kitchen, Stanley was sitting at the table watching the dogs eat. He truly had grown into a lanky kid, long arms and legs. I guessed he was probably five-foot-ten and 140 pounds on a good day. He was at the age where a little weight training would benefit him greatly. My plans were to take him over to the Y and train him on the free weights after things had settled down. I wanted to show him some basics that he could use for the rest of his life.
“Stanley, don't let the dogs out. Just open the back door so they can use the paper. We're leaving your mama here while we take care of your business.”
“That's cool.” He didn't move from the table. “You know something Mr. Price?”
I stood in the doorway. “What's that, Stanley?”
“I'm glad my mother broke off my thang with Martin. Yeah, I'm going to miss the loot, but ever since I been hooked up with him Ma been trippin', acting all sad and stuff. At first I thought it was because I was makin' my own cream but it wasn't really the money. It was like whenever she heard me workin' on a deal, she'd just go all flat. Yeah, it was a lot of money, but it wasn't worth seeing her like that.
“Besides, I got two grand in the bank and with what's left from the check I should be able to flip that Aurora. I'm just going to have to go down a little on the rims, but the tint and sound system will be tight, ya can bet that.”
“I'm sure they will be, young brother.”
“So did Ma start crying?”
“She's settled down some. I'm hoping she takes a nap.”
“That ain't gonna happen. Ma don't sleep. It will be one or two in the morning before she falls off, believe me. She makes it hard on a brother trying to make them late-night telephone calls. I don't even bother with the phone after ten. It ain't worth the embarrassment.”
“Tell me, Stanley, how did you get the name Snap?”
Guardedly he asked me, “Where did you hear that name?”
“You introduced yourself that way on the phone, when you were talking to your problem.”
“Aw, yeah. When I was a kid I used to get into fights real quick. Other kids started calling me âSnap,' and it stuck.”
“Used to get into fights real quick? Based on what I saw behind your house and out at Eleanor's you still get into it pretty quick.”
“Today was different, Mr. Price. Both of them dudes tried to disrespect my moms. I had to put in that work.”
He wasn't bragging; matter of fact, his whole cocky attitude was missing. I walked into the kitchen and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I understand, but, Stanley, if you don't listen to anything else I tell you, hear this: Think before you do. Ten seconds of thinking could have saved many a man from jail and death. If you give yourself ten seconds before acting, I guarantee you a better life. Trust me on this.”
Truer words I've never spoken, but knowing right and doing right are two different things. I try to give myself ten seconds, and more times than not, I do calm down before I react.
“Yeah, Ma tells me that all the time. âThink before you do. Think before you speak.' And I am getting better, Mr. Price, I am. Like I said, I got that name when I was a kid.
“I used to get into fights over kids teasing me about how I smelled. You see my granddaddy would make usâme and momsâeat a piece of garlic and take a spoonful of cod-liver oil every day. And when I would be at school playing, I'd start sweating, and this fishy garlic smell would come out and kids would tease me. And because it was true, I did stink, I would fight them. All a kid had to do was make reference to something stinking. A lot of times it wasn't even me, but I would still snap and start fighting. In fifth grade kids just started calling me âSnap.'”
All the while he spoke, he continued to look expectantly toward the kitchen doorway. Even though he was no longer speaking of his mother, his solemn tone indicated the worry he felt. Gone was the bravado, what remained was distress. He loved his “moms,” but like me, he was uncertain of how to soothe her.
“Let's go. I'm going to get Ricky to ride with us just in case some drama occurs with your problem.”
“Your boy Ricky? The guy that owns every liquor store on southside?”
Damn if the kid didn't sound excited, like he was going to meet a celebrity. “I don't know about every liquor store on the southside, but yeah, we going to see that Ricky Brown.”
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