The Common Lawyer (19 page)

And he was still smiling when he arrived back at his office where he found Floyd T. sitting on the sidewalk with his back to the building writing in his notebook and a limo parked out front with an action-figure named Darrell leaning against the back door. Russell Reeves' driver/bodyguard jutted his square jaw toward Ramon's.

"He's in the tattoo shop."

Andy went inside and found Russell Reeves in deep conversation with Ramon Cabrera.

"Does it hurt?"

Ramon laughed. "Of course, it hurts, Russell. Pain is part of the experience."

"I don't know, Ramon. I really like the idea of my son's face tattooed on my back, but I'm not big on physical pain."

"Russell, my man, excruciating physical pain is the threshold a man must cross to get to the other side of life."

"And what's on the other side?"

"Enlightenment."

"Have you been to the other side, Ramon?"

Ramon pulled his sweat shirt over his head to reveal his painted upper body. He spread his arms and turned slowly.

"Russell … I
am
the other side."

Russell Reeves regarded the living mural that was Ramon Cabrera.

"My God, you're a work of art."

"I am an artist and I am art."

After a moment, Russell said, "I'll think about it."

"You do that."

"Later, Ramon."

Ramon stuck his fist out; Russell gave him a fist-punch like he had done it before then turned and walked outside.

"Tickets," Ramon said to Andy.

"What are you doing in so early?"

"Appointment." He checked his watch. "She's late."

Andy grabbed the two tickets off the counter, then followed Russell outside where he found Darrell jabbing Floyd T. with his shoe.

"Get out of my way, you stinkin' bum."

Andy vaulted past Russell and pushed Darrell in the chest as hard as he could; the ape barely budged.

"Leave him alone, you big jerk!"

The big jerk grabbed Andy by the shoulders and squeezed; the pressure of Darrell's stubby fingers pressing deep into his bones made Andy's knees buckle. He thought he would faint when he heard Russell's calm voice.

"Let him go, Darrell."

Darrell's dark eyes moved off Andy and onto his billionaire boss.

"Now."

Darrell released his grip. Andy almost fell to the pavement.

"Apologize."

Darrell sighed and turned to Andy.

"Sorry for grabbing you and—"

"Not him. Floyd T."

"
What?
"

"Apologize to Floyd T."

Darrell pointed down at Floyd T. "To a homeless bum?"

"To a war hero."

"A war hero?"

"Yes. Floyd T. is a decorated war hero, Darrell. He gave his leg for his country. You should respect that."

Darrell's face softened; he looked down at Floyd T.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. For calling you a bum."

Floyd T. turned an expressionless face up to Darrell and said, "Asshole."

Russell laughed. "Touché, Darrell."

Darrell shook his head and returned to his position by the limo. Russell handed a $100 bill to Floyd T.

"Sorry, Floyd T."

Floyd T. took the bill.

"Thanks, Russell. But you shouldn't employ assholes. You can't trust them."

"You're probably right."

Andy and his client climbed the stairs to the little office. Andy propped open the window and checked to make sure that Darrell wasn't bullying Floyd T. again.

"That was nice, what you did for Floyd T."

"Just a hundred bucks."

"No, making Darrell apologize."

"Floyd T. earned it."

"I didn't know you two had met."

"First time I stopped by, when you weren't here. We visited a while. He's a human being, Andy. And an interesting one."

"Darrell's lucky Floyd T. was sitting down. If he was standing, he might've taken his leg off and beaten the hell out of Darrell with it."

Russell sighed. "Darrell is … Darrell."

"Why do you have a guy like him working for you?"

"Because it's hard to find a compassionate bodyguard, Andy." He shook his head. "It's the world we live in. I'm worth fifteen billion dollars, so I'm vulnerable to kidnapping. So is my wife. So I need a bodyguard. Being wealthy has its benefits, but there are burdens, too."

They sat across the card table from each other.

"I just drove by the development sites."

"
Renovation
sites."

"Construction is progressing well. I knew you were the right lawyer for that job, Andy."

"Thanks."

"And I think you're the right lawyer for this job."

"What job?"

Russell leaned back.

"Andy, I want to make amends."

"For what?"

"The past. I've reexamined my life and found it wanting."

"Wanting for what? You're a billionaire."

"For what money can't buy. Peace. I'm not proud of everything I've done, Andy. I deeply regret certain of my actions."

He sounded like that senator who had gotten caught with his pants down in an airport bathroom. Andy nodded.

"I know what you mean, Russell. Fortunately, my mind has blocked out the memories."

"Because of the psychic pain?"

"Because of the Coronas."

"Oh. Well, what I've done is a bit more serious than getting drunk and making a fool of myself."

He didn't know about making a fool of himself.

"Andy, I—"

Andy had tried to lighten the moment, but Russell was having none of it. He remained deadly serious. Andy was sure his client was about to confess to murder.

—"I didn't treat the women in my life well."

Andy realized he had been holding his breath; he exhaled.
That's it?
But then he thought, Maybe he had abused them, although any womyn in SoCo could kick Russell Reeves' ass into next week. He didn't have the body mass to abuse women.

"Your wife?"

"My girlfriends."

"What happened?"

The billionaire across the card table sighed.

"I loved them and left them."

"You mean, you broke up with your girlfriends?"

Russell nodded.

"But you didn't hurt them … physically?"

"Oh, no. I just left them without concern for their emotional pain. I thought only about myself."

"So you're feeling guilty about your ex-girlfriends, from what, fifteen, twenty years ago?"

Russell nodded again.

"How many are we talking—one, two?"

"Seventeen."

"
Seventeen?
You had seventeen girlfriends? Before you were rich?"

He shrugged. "I have a great personality."

"You must also have the biggest …" Andy shook his head. "Seventeen. Wow. That's impressive, Russell."

"Andy, haven't you thought about your old girlfriends? Wondered where they're at, how they're doing?"

"I've only had one girlfriend, back in fourth grade. Mary Margaret McDermott. She's married to a doctor, got four kids."

"You're twenty-nine and your last girlfriend was in fourth grade?"

"Until now. Thanks to you."

"Me?"

"You pay me well."

Russell Reeves smiled. "Yes, I suppose a Whole Foods girl doesn't come cheap."

"You know about Suzie?"

Or Bobbi.

"I stopped in one day for a smoothie and saw you talking to a young woman. A blonde."

Suzie.

"I assumed she was your girlfriend. She's quite lovely."

"She is sweet."

Andy's thoughts drifted back to that morning in bed … Suzie's awesome naked body … and they—

"Andy?"

"What? Oh, yeah, your ex-girlfriends."

"I want to make it up to them."

"How?"

"The only way I can—money."

"You want to give your old girlfriends money because you broke up with them a long time ago?"

"Because I used them as sexual objects for my own pleasure."

"Russell, that's what men do. Women, too. Down here in SoCo, we just ask that they do it inside." He shook his head. "Was it consensual?"

"Of course."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Guilt."

"Are you Catholic, too?"

"No."

Andy grunted. "So what's the job?"

"Find them. Give them money. Make their lives better."

"You want me to find your old girlfriends and give them money? As simple as that?"

"As simple as that."

"I just hand each woman a check and say, 'Russell Reeves says hi'?"

"No. I want to do this anonymously."

"Why?"

"Seventeen women, one might go to the press. Can you imagine that in the tabloids? They'd have a field day."

"I guess that would make the papers."

"Andy, I want you to find my old girlfriends. If they're in debt, I'm going to pay off their debts. If they're sick, I'm going to pay for their medical care. If they're homeless, I'm going to buy them a home. I'm going to make things right by making their lives better. But this assignment must remain absolutely secret. You must not reveal this to anyone—not even Suzie."

"Why don't you just hire a PI?"

"PIs talk. They sell information. And they can testify. You can't."

Andy leaned back in his chair.

"The privilege."

Russell Reeves nodded.

"The attorney-client privilege," Andy said. "I can't disclose anything to anyone. I can't even be compelled to testify about this in a court of law."

"Exactly. And if you did tell your girlfriend and it ended up in the papers?"

"I'd be disbarred."

His billionaire client nodded again.

"Absolute secrecy, Andy."

Russell handed a document to Andy across the desk. It was two pages of names and addresses.

"That's all you have?"

"Their names and last-known addresses."

"Russell, I don't even know where to start."

Russell gestured at the document.

"Bottom of the last page, there's a name. Hollis McCloskey. He's a private investigator downtown, ex-FBI. Upper-echelon type. My lawyers have used him on corporate investigations. He doesn't usually hunt people down, but he will for the right price."

"I thought you didn't want to hire a PI?"

"I don't. I want you to hire him. Give him the list, nothing more. Don't mention my name. Tell him to find them, learn everything about them—their assets, debts, husbands, children—and compile a dossier on each. But his job ends there. He is not to make contact with the women. That's your job. Figure out what they need and how I can help them. Then bring it to me."

"How will I know if I've got the right women?"

"Take photos. I'll know."

"I don't have a camera."

"Buy one. My tab."

"This big-time PI, he's not going to be cheap, Russell."

"I wired fifty thousand to your trust account this morning, while you were in traffic court. Pay him whatever it takes."

"Russell, why me for this job? I mean, I understand the SoCo deals, but your downtown lawyers can do this. They can hire this McCloskey dude."

"I don't want my regular lawyers to know anything about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I know Hollis and he knows me. And he knows my lawyers. If my lawyers hire Hollis, he'll know I'm the client. And if he knows, then his employees will know … and their wives and husbands and girlfriends and boyfriends will know. Everyone will know. I can't have that, Andy. No one can know."

Andy shrugged. "You're the boss."

"Good. These are the ground rules. We only discuss this matter in person, not over the phone. No emails. Nothing in writing. When you have something, call me on my cell phone and I'll come down here."

Andy scanned down the list. "These addresses, they're in Houston, Chicago, New Orleans, Miami, L.A., Denver … Were they students at UT back then?"

"No. I met them on my business travels."

"You'd go to Chicago or Miami and meet a girl and she'd have sex with you? For free?"

Russell just raised his eyebrows, as if to say, I don't want to brag, but …