The brother spoke first. He leaned back in one of the folding chairs, putting the chair on two legs.
“Daphne, give it a rest. You are unprepared to practice law.”
“The State of Illinois says I am,” she answered, clicking her black Mont Blanc ink pen closed.
“Oh please, this is drama. What, is it time for a raise or do you want a lease upgrade on your car?” the skinny bother in the suit asked.
“I want out, nothing more.”
This was the battle she'd been preparing for in the car.
The white man spoke, “Daphne, you are making a grave error. Minutes ago, Martin and I were discussing a custody battle that we've decided to have you handle. It's to be your first case. You'll have the lead and Martin will assist.” He smiled as if he expected those words to change her mind.
“Are you speaking of the Price case?”
“Yes,” the attorney answered still smiling.
“Not interested, at least not from your table. I will be at the custody hearing however, representing Mr. Price.” With a hand gesture she introduced me.
I got it. Late, but I got it. The white man was Regina's shyster and Chester's Uncle Randolph. He looked larger and taller on television. I believe he got it the same time I did, because the smile that was on his face changedâit turned kind of slimy.
“Daphne, don't do this.” He stood from the chair and opened his arms as if to embrace her. “Think about your career. My God, woman, you are a partner in a going firm.”
“Get real! You have no partners, Randolph. Martin and I are only employees. This is your show, and I want out of it.” She was pointing at his chest with her ink pen, holding it more like an ice pick than a writing utensil.
“Daphne, we just put the firm name up in the reception area.” He gave a hand gesture toward the front.
“Never fear, Randolph. I'm sure Kmart has more letters.”
“The letters did not come from Kmart,” he protested and turned to glance at them.
“Oh, excuse me. Office Max,” she said.
There was a pause in the conversation. No one said a word; eyes shifted from person to person. There was nothing for me to say. I didn't have a clue as to why all the eyes settled on me.
“I have gathered my things and I'm certain you will find all the papers in order. Again, good day, gentlemen.”
“Daphne, it is apparent you have sought the counsel of the ignorant in regards to this decision.” His eyes were locked on me when he said, “Representing such a loser your first time out isn't advisable. Look at the facts, Daph: a security guard versus a reporter from the city's largest newspaper. Not to mention her fiancé is a respected member of Chicago's legal community. Regina will get complete custody. We will marry, and Chester will become my son.”
Calm. I told myself to stay calm. He was baiting me and I knew it. Daphne placed her hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly through my mouth. I stayed calm until he said, “Chester Peal . . . it has a nice ring to it don't you think?” He was talking directly to me. That was his mistake. He made it personal.
The thin brother in the green suit was between us, but I was through him in a second. Peal kept the snide smile on his face even with my hands around his neck. It wasn't until his feet left the ground that panic arrived in his eyes.
“Let him down, David! You cannot fight him from jail,” Daphne said into my ear.
When I released him, he stumbled backwards to keep his footing while gasping for air. Through his gasps he muttered, “He is unstable, Daphne. He has an arrest record and is known to associate with felons. His wife has identified him as a loser, and you should too.”
Backing out of the conference room, he didn't take his eyes from me. At the doorway, regaining his full voice, he said, “Convincing Daphne to help you will be of small consequence. You were an unfit husband and the court will see you as an unfit father. You should have listened to your ex-wife. See you in court, Mr. Price.” He quickly backed completely out of the conference room and left.
The brother seemed uncertain if my wrath was going to be redirected toward him. He eased closer to Daphne and whispered, “Have you lost your mind, Daphne? Going against Randy on something like this isn't a smart career move. This case affects him personally. Drop it like it's hot. Forget this foolishness and come into planning with us.”
“It's over, Martin.” She wasn't whispering.
“Pardon?” He was asking Daphne for clarification but his eyes were on me; he was making sure he had enough room to run from the conference room if the situation called for it. He didn't have enough room.
“I'm finished with the firm and you. Our relationship is over, Martin.”
He took his gaze from me to her and said, “With me? Sweetness, three weeks ago we were at the Vineyard talking engagement. Don't overreact.”
“No Martin, you were talking engagement not me.”
“I understand you are upset because I choose not to involve myself in your son's recent delinquent acts, and I say again, I am not the one who can help. He needs professional guidance, a behavioral specialist or something.”
She looked up to me with the sweetest expression and said, “Mr. Price has agreed to help him.”
Mocking, Martin asked, “Is he a licensed counselor as well as a security guard?”
The puny bastard had some balls after all. I stepped in his direction but Daphne put her hand up, stopping me. He'd taken two quick steps toward the doorway.
“No. He's only a man who wants to help my son.”
“Whatever, pumpkin.” His fear-filled eyes were back on me. “Let's go in with Randy and sort out this foolishness before you lose this good life.”
“Oh, I'm keeping my good life. It's you and this firm that I'm getting rid of. Let's go, D.”
“Daphne, no!” he raised his voice but his hands remained at his side. I wanted him to touch her. Randolph had got me in ass-kicking mode, and as of yet I was unfulfilled. Completing the task in Martin's direction was okay with me.
“I won't let you destroy your life, Daphne. I insist that you remain here with me and discuss this. Mr. Price can sit out in reception.” For a second it sounded like he really did have some balls. Then Daphne started laughing at him and he reminded me of a high-school bookworm a bully had slapped upside the head. He became docile.
“We are leaving, Martin, and don't bother to call my home phone or cell. Both numbers will be changed. I will ship your things to this office.”
“Is this how it ends after all I have done for you? My Lord, Daphne, I love you. You can't leave me.” The brother was copping a sincere plea.
Still laughing, Daphne pulled her box of stuff from under the card table. She snapped out the order, “Come pick this up!”
She sounded so bossy I almost moved to pick it up until I realized she was directing Martin. In a split second he was stooped beside her with the box in his grasp.
“Oh, pumpkin, you are wearing spiked heelsâthose are not good for your feet, you'll get a corn like before. We agreed no more spiked heels. You see, you need me, you'll hurt them without me. I won't let you take them out of my life.” He was attempting to whisper but I heard him. “I love them. No, I love you, you know what I mean. I have always loved you.”
He looked like he was about to start kissing her feet until she kicked at him.
“Pick the box up! Get it up and carry it to the elevator for us.”
He stood with the box and said, “Please, Daphne, reconsider.”
“Look, Martin I'll make a cast of them for you and mail it to you along with the photos you took of them. Okay?”
Through his face we could see his brain considering her offer.
Excitedly he asked, “You promise?”
“Ughh! Let's go, D.”
Chapter Seven
Back in my DTS, Daphne was cheesing like a six-year-old with a secret. She twisted in the car seat waiting for me to ask about the situation upstairs with the lawyers. When I pulled out of the parking garage onto LaSalle Street, I didn't ask because she was about to burst with excitement. I merely waited.
“David?”
“Yes, Attorney Nelson?”
Her being a lawyer did surprise me. Daphne was doing well for herself and I was proud of her. However, she did play me a little bit and it was only right that I play her back.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I didn't look at her because I would not have been able to keep a straight face.
“Are you okay with everything?”
“Everything?” I wanted to talk about the lawyers too, but playing with her took priority for a minute or two.
“Stop teasing me.”
She shoved my shoulder, almost causing me to run up on the curb as I turned onto Congress Parkway. “Are you okay with what happened upstairs? That's a lot to have thrown at you.”
Keeping a stern face and acting as if I was pondering her question, I let seconds pass before I offered, “are you asking if I'm okay with being forced to help you . . . let's see . . . dump your man, quit your job and secure, I'm guessing here, your first client?”
“Yes, David, that's what I'm asking. Are you okay with all that?”
“Humph, well that depends, are you a good lawyer?” I felt her eyes on me. Traffic came to an abrupt stop; something had the Congress blocked. We didn't merge immediately on to 94 East.
“Oh yeah, I'm good, but even if I wasn't you wouldn't have anything to worry about. In a custody battle Randolph has limited if any parental rights. So . . . are you okay with everything?”
When I faced her, the insecurity in her eyes surprised me. The hardened professionalism that filled her as she had prepared to go into the lawyer's office was gone. She looked uncertain. I decided to stop playing with her because I didn't want to be responsible for the doubt I saw building in her eyes.
“Yes, I'm fine with what happened and am happy to have been there for you.”
A road crew was changing the lightbulbs on the overhead street lamps. Once we passed them, traffic was clear. I mashed on the gas with authority and took the ramp leading to 94 East.
“I'm happy you were there, too. I meant what I said. It felt good to have you against my back. I haven't felt supported in long time.” I heard a trembling in her voice and in the blink of an eye she was sobbing. She turned away, trying to hide the falling tears.
“What's wrong?”
She didn't answer as she cried openly. I handed her the box of Kleenex from the backseat, but her small hands were covering her eyes so she didn't take the box right away.
“David, I'm tired. Tired of it riding me down. It won't let me feel good about anything. I can be happy for moments, but it comes back on me hard, riding me down. I tried to tell myself the money was worth it. It wasn't . . . People died from me getting rich. Randolph and I, we got blood on our hands. Good people's blood.”
She blew her nose hard into the Kleenex, rolled it up into a tight ball, opened her purse and dropped it in. From her purse she pulled out the slimmest gold liquor flask I had ever seen. She thumbed it open and took three small sips. She leaned the flask toward me; I declined. The aroma of cognac slipped past my nose. She flipped the top closed and said, “I'm done feeling bad for today, David. Let's talk about something else. Shall we? Where are we heading?”
The decision of whether to comment on the “it” that was riding her or proceed with conversation as if nothing was said needed to be made. Whatever the “it” was brought tears to her eyes, and seeing her crying upset me. Maybe later when I had the comforts of home to aid me, I would bring “it” up. I chose to answer her question.
“I got to swing by my office and touch base with Carol, my business partner.”
“You are in business with a woman?”
“Yeah, one of the smartest people I ever met in my life.”
Two trucks were riding side by side, keeping the flow of the local lanes at forty-five miles per hour. At Fifty-first Street I switched from the local lanes to the express lanes.
“Interesting. Is she more than your business partner?”
“Yeah, she is a real friend.” I knew I wasn't answering her real question. “Daphne, I've got a question for you. Why is Peal's law office so tacky looking? I thought his was a more established firm.”
“Randolph is rich. The poor office look is for the clients. He gives clients the idea that he is a struggling, just-starting-out attorney. He thinks it endears him to clients. Randolph is a man only concerned with his own comforts. His private corner office is laid: wet bar, oak desk, leather chair, Tiffany lamps, Persian rugs, the whole nine yards. He plays everybody cheapâclients, staff, everybody. That's why a partnership there means nothing.”
“If I hear you right, then I can assume that he is really not that big of a threat.”
“Oh no, David, Attorney Randolph Peal is a rich man with pull. Don't get it twisted. He is a very real threat.”
“And you can fight him?”
“We can fight him, as long as we work together, support each other and have each other's back.” She rested her head against my shoulder.
Quiet minutes passed. I wondered if the “it” was back on her mind. Without realizing it, I had the DTS up to ninety-five miles per hour. I eased off the gas, slowing the sedan down. We were at Eighty-third Street. I exited and headed to the office. I rolled the windows halfway down and let the late morning air blow through the car.
“I have been watching my own back for a long time, David. Ever since I've been grown, I've been supporting myself. No man has ever really supported me, really had my back. I used men, but I couldn't depend on them.” She sat straight up and looked at me. “Understand?”
“No, you are going to have to explain that one, baby. You used men but didn't depend on them?”
“Okay, for example, Martin advised me to invest in an emerging dot-com company. I did it and made money. Does that mean Martin had my back? No. I used the advice he gave me to make money, that's not support. The money I made from his suggestion does not pay my light bill. I paid my light bill before I invested the money. You follow?”
“No.”
“I depend on my lights, they are not a luxury. Lights, food and utilities are necessities. No one pays them but me. I don't trust another person to pay them because I need them. What I need, I must take care of myself. Follow me?”
I didn't have a clue. Therefore I didn't answer. She continued.
“This is support: if I wrenched my back and leaned on you, you would help me walk. If I wrenched my back around Martin, I would have to crawl my ass to the doctor.
“A month ago I told Martin I wasn't happy with my position at the firm. I asked him if he would go in with me and talk to Randolph about bringing in family law cases. He told me that would be rocking the boat and refused. With him as my man, I stood alone. Getting it? No?
“Okay, try this. I needed Martin to help me with my son, I needed his support. He refused. He flat-out said it was out of his area of expertise. When Stanley was a little boy he didn't have a bike, it wasn't like we couldn't buy him a bike, because weâMama, me or Daddyâcould have got him one, but for some reason he didn't have one. You gave him an old one from your garage and taught him how to ride it. I didn't ask you to do that, you just stepped up and did it.”
When I swung around a three-legged dog was on Eighty-third Street that obviously wasn't afraid of getting hit by a car; Daphne let out a little chirp for the dog, but continued with her thought.
“Martin got Randolph to pay for my schooling, but never went to the library with me, never watched Stanley for me when I had to study and never offered to help with one research paper. I used Martin, but I didn't depend on him. Understand?”
“Yes, I believe I do. I need you to help me keep my son. I'm leaning on you and by helping me you are offering support. Is that right?”
“Yeah, you got it. We are supporting each other. Most people can't always follow my line of thought and I do have a problem with thinking ahead. The minute I heard you say you were looking for a lawyer, I started laying out the courtroom argument before you even agreed to my taking the case.”
“Do I hear you saying you have a plan?”
“Oh yes, I most certainly do.” She turned in her seat to completely face me. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course I would.” At the stoplight on Vincennes, I looked to my right and noticed that they had almost finished renovating the old warehouse that would be the new Simeon Vocational High School.
“I believe all of Randolph's talk of adoption is to impress Regina. She is the prize in Randolph's eyes, not Chester. My plan is to get Regina into family court before they're married. Once she sees how seriously the court looks upon keeping knowledge of a child's birth away from the biological father, she'll conform to your wishes.”
“You sound confident.”
“David you know as well as I, Regina is not a fool. Randolph has got her confused. The reality of the law will bring clarity to her mind. Please believe.”
I really would like to know how he got her confused.
The years I was married to her, she was one of the most focused, goal-oriented people I'd met in my life.
A white Bentley made the turn with us at Eighty-third street, the car was on Daphne's side, so I didn't get a clear look at the driver. All I heard was the yelled threat, “Bitch you is as good as dead!”
Then the Bentley's driver pulled ahead of us, cut me off and slammed on his brakes, causing me to slam on mine. He then sped away fast enough to make the next light and a right at the far corner, leaving me dumfounded and confused.
“Are you all right?” I asked, pulling myself back from the dashboard.
“I'm fine.” She exhaled and closed her eyes.
I pulled up to the light. “Who was that, baby? Did you know him?”
“No, but the car looked familiar,” she said worriedly.
“Associates of Stanley, maybe?”
“Not in a Bentley.”
Who was really in danger was my thought. Was I being hired to protect her or her son? Obviously more was going on than I had been told, which is often the case in the protection business. You never find out the severity of the threat until you're in with both feet.