Foreclosure: A Novel (11 page)

“Finished with what? What the hell is going on?”

David pulled himself back onto the chair. “Actually, Kenz, this pertains to you too.”

She pulled the door closed and braced herself. “Alton, tell me what the hell is going on here right now or I’m going to scream.”

“Don’t scream, honey fig. But he knows about us.”

“Honey fig?” David grimaced.

“He knows what?” she hissed.

David lacked confidence in Alton’s ability to explain the situation, so he spoke up first. “So here’s the deal, Kenz. I rolled in here the same night you two screwed me over on New Year’s Eve. I was a little buzzed from a night of drowning my sorrows, and bypassed a night of eroticism with a hot woman I picked up only to return here to send some bullshit email. I was just minding my business when what do I see? Alton’s bald ass giving it hard to honey fig—that’s you, Mackenzie.” David held up a photo displayed on the BlackBerry.

Mackenzie shrieked and moaned. “I told you he was lying.” She punched Alton’s arm.

“There’s nothing we can do now,” Alton said.

Mackenzie snatched the BlackBerry from David, dropped it to the floor, and drove the spike of her stiletto through the screen.

“What the hell’d you do that for?” David cried. “You really think I didn’t back that up?”

“Let’s call the cops,” Mackenzie said. “This is blackmail.”

“You don’t even know what this is all about,” David said.

“Just hear him out,” Alton added.

“I don’t care.” Mackenzie was trying to control her voice, but she was breathing heavy, almost hyperventilating. Then, she lit up with an idea that seemed to help her calm down. “We can kill him, Alton. And I think I know how we can get away with it.”

“Now you’ve both lost your minds.” Alton turned to his globe bar and twisted it open. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and poured a drink. “Let the little moronic love child tell you what this is all about. You might be surprised.”

Mackenzie took a seat, crossed her legs, and tried to act calm. Her right leg was shaking. “Okay, Friedman, let’s hear it.”

Alton took a seat too and sipped his drink. “He doesn’t want to work for Meridian Bank.”

Mackenzie shuddered. “What? He doesn’t want what?”

Alton nodded. “And he’d rather work for Pinnacle Homes & Investments.”

“Alton, please let me explain this,” David said.

Mackenzie sprung out of her chair. “Are you out of your mind, David? You’re going to blackmail us so you can work for a bankrupt developer instead of Florida’s largest bank?”

David thought for a moment before nodding. “That’s right.”

“And how exactly do you see this playing out?” Mackenzie asked.

“You let me sign O’Reilly. If I keep him through the end of the year and make at least half a million off him, then you make me partner. I have full partnership rights. I can only be terminated with cause and a vote of seventy-five percent of the partners. I don’t have to do any more marketing this year. I don’t have to go golfing or to meet-and-greets. And I don’t have to work for or with either of you.”

“But you want to be our partner? Why don’t you just quit?” Alton asked.

David thought about Terry chewing his bacon, eggs, and grits, and telling him they were going to open their own firm. “Let’s just say I want it on my résumé.”

“And if we don’t agree?” Mackenzie asked.

“There’s going to be a lot of talk at the country club. And both of your spouses will be hiring the best divorce lawyers money can buy. We’ll all go down in flames. I’m younger, so I have more time to rebound.”

“You’re madder than I thought, David,” Alton said.

“Kiss my ass. You had this coming.” David looked to Mackenzie. “And you’re the one stupid enough to let Alton bang you in your office.”

“It was New Year’s for crying out loud,” Mackenzie said. “I was drunk. He said he wanted to start the New Year with a bang. In my office.”

Alton raised his hand. “Enough of this.” He paused as though waiting for a moment of arousal to pass. “So we let you pursue this client, you’ll return all the images to us?”

“All of them,” David said. “At the end of the year.”

Alton looked at Mackenzie and shrugged. She slowly nodded back at him. “I think we might be able to work something out.”

“And one more thing,” David said. “You don’t mention a word of this to Terry.”

“What the hell does this have to do with him?” Mackenzie cried.

“Exactly nothing, and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“So what do you need from us?” Alton asked.

“A firm-approved engagement letter for Pinnacle Homes & Investments.” He stood up. “Pronto.”

David finished typing a notice of appearance to file in one of Frank’s foreclosures, the fifth he’d prepared since his meeting with Alton and Mackenzie. He hadn’t seen Alton since he’d left his office that afternoon. He’d be fine with that, except Alton had promised he would return the engagement letter by the close of business. So, to pass the time David had spent the afternoon drafting routine forms that Mirabel could have prepared in the morning.

Finally, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” David said, expecting to see Alton.

Instead, it was Mackenzie. She closed the door, sauntered to his desk, and handed him what he hoped was the engagement letter. He could see that it was. “This is approved by the firm,” she said.

He cleared his throat as she glared at him, lingering over his desk.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

She took a breath. “In all my years of practice, in all my years of working with and for the crooked and the rich and powerful … .” She took another breath.

“Yes?” David anticipated that he was about to be called some new breed of trash.

“I have never, ever, been so turned on as I was today.” She leaned forward and gripped the routed edge of desktop. The top buttons of her blouse revealed perfect cleavage.

“Well,” his voice quivered, “during my review, you said you’d like to see me take charge more.”

Mackenzie climbed onto the desk. Her knee hit the engagement letter. He pushed it aside so it wouldn’t get wrinkled. She inched her way across the desk with the sultry moves of a model in an ’80s glam metal video.

Finally, her face was an inch from his. He felt a fluttering in his stomach and a pulsing in his groin.

“Take me right here,” she whispered.

She slid off the desk and straddled him. She pressed against his crotch, and the growing stiffness there. “Well, well,” she said. “You are full of surprises.” She leaned close, gripped him tight, and kissed his neck. Her perfume smelled like lilacs he remembered from studying abroad one spring in France; there was a hint of garlic on her breath too, but even that was hot. She shot her tongue in his ear, and they both moaned in discordant unison.

Her mouth moved from his ear to his jaw, her tongue dancing along the way, until her lips found his and locked with them. They opened again, and their tongues teased each other in soft pleasant circles. She was a great kisser, all right, and his heart was racing. He wished he had a lock on the damn door. What if Maribel came in and found them? Maybe they should get a room. Worse yet, what if Alton walked in?

The thought of Alton hit him like a decision passed down by a federal judge. It was just earlier today that he’d been blackmailing her with a photo of Alton pounding her on her desk. And
that
was what had turned her on enough to come onto him like this? He thought more about the photos and the night he’d taken them. He hadn’t seen her go down on Alton that night, but surely these lips that he was kissing right now had at some point touched Alton’s body somewhere forbidden, if not there. He nearly gagged, and pulled his lips from hers.

“What’s wrong?” she said, still writhing and scanning his head for places to kiss.

He pushed her away. “It’s Alton.”

“What?” She looked confused. “He went home early.”

“It just repulses me.”

She ran a hand down to his crotch. “You don’t feel repulsed.”

She had a point. “There’s always a bit of a delay between the two heads.”

She kept moving in that direction. “Speaking of head.”

His stomach fluttered again. He had to act now or they’d reach the point of no return. If they weren’t there already. He grabbed her and held her still. “I need you to be honest with me.”

She smiled seductively. “Are we playing a game?”

“Have you gone down on Alton?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment. Then a progression of emotions swept over her face: incredulity, wondering if maybe it was a joke; embarrassment, fleeting longing, and more embarrassment. Then, finally, anger. She stood up and started straightening her clothes. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she said, and then stormed out of the office.

He caught his breath. That was a close call, and quite the diversion. He was still turned on, but he was able to slay the feeling by thinking of Alton. It was better than a cold shower. Then he imagined showering with Alton. A moment later, it would be safe to walk in public again.

Now, back to business. With the engagement letter in hand, he picked up the phone to tell Frank it was on the way. After Frank answered, David told him why he was calling.

“I’ve been trying to call
you
all night,” Frank barked over the phone.

David recalled the sight of Mackenzie’s heel spiking his BlackBerry. “Sorry, my BlackBerry is dead. I need to give you my office number.”

“We got a problem here. A big problem.”

“What is it?” David’s stomach turned again.

“It’s this settlement agreement you drafted.”

“I didn’t draft it. Bryce Cummings did, and it’s just a draft, Frank. We can work with it. But what’s the problem?”

Frank paused for what seemed five minutes. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Get over here now.”

David parked in the garage under Gaspar Towers. As he opened the car door, a wet gust of wind shot through the garage and knocked the Saab’s door wide open. He had to push it closed against successive gusts of wind. This was the first thunderstorm of the year, a sure reminder that spring was sneaking up.

After finding Frank’s office locked, he walked down the stairs and noticed a faint light in the back of the sales office. That door was locked, too. He knocked.

A shadow emerged in the rear of the office, and Katherine appeared. She approached the door cautiously—almost too cautiously. Once she reached the office door, she initially seemed relieved to see him, but then a look of unease returned.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she relocked the door behind him.

“I’m supposed to meet Frank.”

“Here?”

“He didn’t say. What are you doing here this late?”

“Just catching up on a few things. I heard about Dr. Herington. Nice work.”

David beamed proudly. “Any idea where Frank could be?”

“He’s probably home at this hour.”

Katherine shrieked, causing David to spring back a few feet—but from what he had no idea. Then a loud thud on the door startled them both again. “What the hell?”

The person at the door, much too tall to be Frank, knocked louder.

Katherine stared at the shadowy figure and then shook her head. “Assholes.” She unlocked the door and let Robbie in the office.

“What are you doing here?” he asked David.

“I’m trying to find Frank.”

“Frank’s upstairs.”

“I went there. The office was closed.”

“He’s home.” Robbie looked to Katherine as if she were somehow at fault.

“Frank lives in the penthouse in the south tower,” she told David.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” David asked Robbie.

“I tried calling you five times,” Robbie said.

“My BlackBerry,” David sighed. “Never mind.”

Robbie opened the door and nodded for David to get out.

Katherine nodded good-bye. Maybe with a tinge of regret.

As David exited, Robbie told Katherine that Frank wanted to know if she’d be up later. David couldn’t hear her answer. Then Robbie asked why she was working so late. David couldn’t hear her answer to that question, either.

Robbie inserted a key into the elevator panel and hit a gold button marked
PH
. The elevator shot up like a rocket and, through its outer window, David watched the evening storm tattering the beach below.

“Frank has the penthouse all to himself?” David asked.

“He has the south tower all to himself.”

“Really?” That would explain why the inside of this elevator still shone like it was brand new.

“When the market tanked, we started selling units only in the north tower.”

“I guess Frank likes his privacy.”

The elevator eased to a halt high above the beach. The door behind David glided open. He took a final glimpse at the beach, then turned to follow Robbie into a living room of sprawling cherry wood floors and walls that in the dark appeared dusted with ash. The kitchen was cold stainless steel and dark cabinets that matched the stained wood floors. David set his bag on the polished granite countertop. Then he followed Robbie through another living area, this one with open French doors that led to a balcony that wrapped around the beachside perimeter of the penthouse.

Outside, Frank shielded a joint from the flickering rain that was finding its way under the balcony’s awning. David could still hear swells beating the shore twenty-five stories below.

“One of the few sounds I never grow tired of.” Frank held another hit and stared over the balcony.

“I found him down in the sales office,” Robbie said.

Frank seemed like he could care less.

“I didn’t know you lived up here,” David said.

“This one I personally designed.” Frank seemed to be talking to himself. “My masterpiece.”

David almost forgot why he was here.

“What did Katherine say?” Frank asked Robbie.

“She’s not coming,” Robbie answered.

“I guess that’s good.”

“Frank,” David said, “you wanted to talk about—”

Frank raised his hand. “I know damn well why you’re here. I’m just not ready to go there yet.” He stared at Robbie. “Did you tell her I’m leaving?”