Foreclosure: A Novel (16 page)

“I don’t agree with that,” Lana said.

“Sure you do. When you left me after you lost your job and got the DUI, you blamed it all on me. You made a business decision and went with a better opportunity.”

“That’s absurd.” Lana shuddered a little and took a drink of the sangria.

“Let’s calm down.” Justin raised his voice.

“You see the point I’m making though?” David asked Justin.

Justin shook his head. “Not really. Not at all.”

“You should know as well as anyone,” David said. “How often are we telling people in our business, ‘nothing personal, it’s just business’? Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that that axiom does not apply only to business. It applies to life in general. It’s all just business. There is no humanity. We’re just animals, all of us, doing what’s in our best interests to survive, making our business decisions; what’s best for me and my survival. Money, busting a nut, power, it’s all the same.” He reached for the pitcher and refilled his tumbler with sangria. “You know I’ve foreclosed on a hundred houses in the last month? A hundred damn foreclosures? Should I feel bad about that? No more than you two should feel bad about, well, the two of you.”

Lana lowered her head and moaned. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Justin did his best to sound tough. “Watch it, David. You hear me?”

“Or what? What the hell are you going to do about it?”

Justin kept his lip tight.

“That’s what I thought.” David picked up a soggy piece of bruschetta, folded it in half, and gobbled up its tomato-olive-paste topping. “Briny,” he said, still chewing.

“You’re talking with your Jersey accent,” Lana said.

“My Jersey accent?” He took another bite. “I guess we can’t hide where we’re from, can we?”

Justin stood and grabbed Lana’s arm. “Why did you want to see us? To prove you’re an asshole? We already knew that.”

David ignored him and smiled at his old flame. She gestured for Justin to sit down.

Once they were seated again, David locked eyes with Lana’s. “I’m intrigued by this Jersey accent thing.” He took a quick drink without breaking eye contact. “You used to say that all the time. Just not with as much contempt as you just used.” She squirmed in her seat. “You thought you were better than me, didn’t you? Me, white trash from the slums, versus you, little hedge-fund heiress?”

“That’s absurd, David. If there was anything I looked down on about how you grew up, it was that you never talked about it, like you had something to hide. You know I’m not judgmental.”

“I never told you about my upbringing?” He wondered whether that was true. Could he have lived with her for three years and never talked about that? “Bullshit.”

She shook her head emphatically. Justin leaned forward to vie for her attention, but she was glaring at David. “What’s one thing you ever told me about your childhood?”

“I told you my dad died and we were poor.”

“You never told me how he died.”

“What the fuck did it matter how he died, Lana? He died!” David realized he was screaming when most heads in the dining room turned in their direction.

A moment later, David realized that Justin was standing again, tugging at Lana, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” David said. He felt a lump growing in his throat as he waited for her to calm down. “I ever tell you about the time I played hooky?”

She shook her head. Justin was still tugging at her. She looked up and told him, “You can wait outside if you must.” She turned back to David as Justin reluctantly slid back into his seat.

“It was about a month after my mom left.” David glanced at Justin. “You’ll like this, old sport.”

Justin leaned over and whispered something to Lana, apparently another request for them to leave, but Lana waved him off and he sighed.

David continued. “So one day, I finished lunch at school, I was just a freshman, and I had this feeling—something wasn’t right there. Maybe I thought this bully had it out for me and wanted to beat me up after school, like that movie
Three O’Clock High
. But truth be told, I probably just wanted to go home and play the guitar my dad had given me for Christmas. So, I leave school and it takes me about ten minutes to walk home. It was a cold gray day, the kind of day that always made me want to crawl under a rock and get warm. It was January, January twentieth. The wind beat me on the walk home. I remember thinking it was God punishing me for skipping. But that was nothing. Nothing compared to what was coming.”

He caught his breath and chuckled at Lana. “You sure I never told this one?”

She shook her head, riveted.

He nodded, smiled. “We lived in an old two-story house that my dad’s parents had left him. They both died young, too young for me to really remember them. I didn’t really have any family. You know, I look back on things, realize my mom wasn’t right in the head. My dad would never face it, but she wasn’t. I guess you could say she was crazy, and I always wondered if I was too because of her. I don’t know. But I remember when I walked in that day, the first thing I saw was the blood. Oh my God, I’ve never seen so much blood. There was a puddle of it in the doorway to the kitchen. I remember thinking something was wrong with the freezer. Like there must be blood coming from the freezer.”

He paused again and cleared his throat; tried ignoring the tear on Lana’s cheek.

“He was in the chair at the kitchen table where he always sat for dinner. The shotgun was on the floor. I can’t tell you how much blood there was. And it was everywhere. All over the wall behind him. Not just blood, but chunks of stuff, skull and brains. And it was like a lake on the floor all around him. I remember thinking, who did this? Who the hell would do this to my old man? The blood was the first thing I saw. But then I saw his face, or what used to be his face. It looked like a package of hamburger meat. Can you imagine that? Someone’s face, your own dad’s, torn to pieces by a blast of a shotgun, looking like hamburger meat?”

“David,” Lana cried. She reached for his hand.

He pulled it away and crossed his arms. “I didn’t believe them when they told me it was suicide. I still have my doubts, or I want to, from time to time. But deep inside I know it was. They even said he left a letter for me, but it was so soaked in blood I couldn’t read it. I didn’t want to read it. I wanted to know what it said. They were able to tell me that eventually. He said he loved me but couldn’t take the pain anymore, and he was no good for me.”

Lana cried into her linen napkin.

“Things were bad for him. My mom had left the Thanksgiving before. Well, she had left before, but I think he was realizing she wasn’t coming back this time. This time it was for good. I think he figured she was probably dead. I got to give him credit, he loved that woman, loved her like no one’s ever been loved. He was out of regular work, just couldn’t make ends meet. He’d even given up playing, sold his best guitar. I swear, I think that did him in.”

“Oh, David,” Lana cried again. “No one should have to see that.”

“He never meant me to find him like that. He worked second shift, about one till ten at night as a temp at this factory. I’d stay up for him and we’d talk before I went to bed. But he was usually gone when I got home from school. His friend Phil, who got him the job, would pick him up about a quarter till one. He wanted Phil to find him. And he would have, had I not come home early that day.”

David grinned and pointed at himself. “I didn’t have no one. David Lawrence Friedman, ward of the state. That’s what you two spoiled brats are looking at, a grown-up ward of the state. Smarter and harder working than you’ll ever be.” He leaned across the table and took her hand. “Lana, you always said you wanted to know more about my family, always wanted to know why I was pushing you away. You thought I was a nice guy, didn’t you? You see there?”

Lana covered her mouth and shook her head.

Justin crossed his arms. “David, we get it. You’ve been through some tough shit. But—”

Lana cut him off. “Why don’t you see someone? There’s no way anyone could deal with that.”

David chuckled. “You know, I did. I saw someone through high school. She was nice enough. Told me to always think of my happiest moment that did not involve my father and to rebuild my life around it. Make that my goal in life, to work toward that moment of happiness. I was to invest everything I had in that, but only if I knew it was true happiness. Now that’s the fucking rub, ain’t it? How’s a teenager supposed to know that? It’s like some sick afterschool special.

“So what’s the moment young David chooses?” He arched his brow. “Going to Florida in Band when I was a junior. Came down here in the dead of winter and it was so fucking beautiful and blue and sunny and happy. I saw this family getting off a ride at Universal Studios, happiest fuckers I’d ever seen. I followed them around, watched and listened to everything they did. Heard the mom talking to the kids about the dad, he was a lawyer of some sort. I made friends with one of them and walked around with them all day. Hell, they bought me lunch and snacks. The man was tan and tall and had great hair and all the kids laughed at him and rode on his shoulders. He seemed normal enough, but he had it together. It was like something from a fucking movie.

“And I made my mind up that day what I was going to do. And that was it. I finished school at Rutgers—for free by the way, when you’re a smart ward of the state, it’s free—and I knew right where to go to law school, a fresh start. And I knew when I was done, I’d move to the most pompous little town with the biggest fucking country club, and show them, show them who I was, what I could do.”

“David,” Lana said. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. This job isn’t good for you. Just look at Justin. He made the decision to get out of there. He’s much happier now.”

“Is that what he told you?” David asked. He eyed Justin, who was shaking his head.

Lana nodded and looked to Justin for reassurance. It was lacking.

“Lana, I hate to break the news to you, but Justin was canned because he wasn’t good enough. He was told he was never going to make partner, showed the door, and offered three months’ severance.”

Lana looked to Justin for an explanation, but he was glaring at David.

“I could sue you and the firm for saying that, Friedman.”

“Are you denying it’s true?”

Lana was still staring, waiting for an explanation.

“We’ll talk later,” Justin told her.

“Bottom line, Lana, you go to law school and start working in a firm, you’re nothing if you don’t make partner. Now don’t get me wrong. I have no intention of hanging around the place and turning into another Alton fucking Holloway. Hell, no. Me and Terry, we got a plan.” David shook his head. The sangria was getting to him. “Let’s just say I want to have the title partner on my résumé. But that’s something Justin will never have. They’ll look at his résumé, see he was an associate for seven years and know why he left.”

Justin was glaring at David. Lana said she was sorry for what seemed the twentieth time.

“What are you sorry for?” David said. “I’ve taken life in stride. I’ve rolled with the punches. They keep coming in life, and I keep rolling with them. But I’m learning to fight back. You fight back when the firm you kill yourself for doesn’t make you partner after seven years of perfection. Justin, what do you do when your supposed best friend steals the woman you were going to marry?”

“I don’t know, David.”

“You fight back.” He looked to Lana. “You know why I bought that guitar last year, instead of your ring? You know why I paid fifteen grand for a ’67 Stratocaster that I never play?”

Lana covered her face and cried. Justin tried putting his arm around her, but she shed it like a scratchy sweater.

“All right,” Justin said. “We get it. You’ve made your point.”

“Yes, and I must say, old friend, it felt pretty damn good.” He finished the pitcher of sangria. “Honestly, better than busting a nut.”

Lana was still wiping away little tears from her eyes, or at least acting like she was. “See, David, I always told you you’d feel better if you talked about things.”

“Well, unfortunately, now that I’ve told you all those things, now I’m going to have to kill you.”

Her eyes bulged.

David laughed. “It’s okay, Lana, I’m just kidding. I only have to kill your litigious prick boyfriend.”

“Fuck you, David.” Justin pointed at him.

“No hard feelings,” David said. “I think it helps to understand where we’re all coming from.” He looked Justin dead in the eyes. “It’s time to fight back, old friend.”

Justin stood quickly. “Eat shit, Friedman. I’m not afraid of you.”

Lana stood and stepped in to separate the boys. “Stop it.”

David stood as well. “Listen to her, old sport. We’re getting to the good part.”

“How could this night possibly get any better?” Justin asked.

“Funny you should ask.” David waved at someone standing in the hallway near the restroom. A biker-looking dude with a leather vest and greasy jeans approached their table.

“Who is that?” Lana asked as Justin held her.

David looked to Justin. “One quick question. Are you an officer of Meridian Bank?”

“You know I’m vice president and associate general counsel. And if you think we’re ever going to—”

“Easy,” David said. “Mitch here just has one question for you. Mitch?”

“Are you Justin Baxter?” Mitch the Biker said.

“Of course I am.”

Mitch handed Justin a stack of papers. “You’ve been served.”

Justin looked at the papers, and then to David. “What is this?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a complaint and a summons?” David said.

Justin read the title page of the complaint. “You’re representing Frank O’Reilly?”

David nodded. “My big client. Landed him all on my own.”

“And you’re suing me?”

“We’re suing the bank. Don’t take it personal.” David smirked. “It’s just business.”

Justin reached down and threw his napkin on the ground. “I can’t wait to draft the bar complaint.”

“Get in line, Baxter.” David crossed his arms.