An Invisible Client (8 page)

15

I sat in one of the chairs next to Rebecca in the waiting room. Olivia texted me and asked if they had accepted the offer. I told her what had happened and that I wouldn’t be bringing it up right now. Within twenty minutes, Olivia walked through the doors. She wore workout clothes and looked like she’d come from the gym. She sat down next to us without a word.

None of us spoke. Rebecca was biting her fingernails so obsessively that I thought her fingers might bleed. I gently took her hand and held it. We sat like that for a long time. A television was playing in the corner with the sound turned low; some game show was on. We were the only ones there. Eventually, Olivia rose and turned it off.

“Do you have anyone I should call?” I said. “Any family you want out here?”

She shook her head. “My parents are both passed, and I only had one sibling, a brother. I don’t know where he is. New York, I think. We never talk. I have an aunt. But she’s got enough problems without worrying about me.”

“What about Joel’s grandparents from his dad’s side?”

“They’re drunks somewhere down south. Last I heard they were living in a trailer park in Florida. They couldn’t care less about Joel. They barely cared about his father.”

“What about Tia?”

“I don’t want to bother her with this. She’s got a new fiancé and all and a life to start.” She looked up at me. “Sorry.”

“It’s true. Don’t apologize.”

“Do you miss her?”

I wanted to look at Olivia, but resisted the urge. “Whatever we had is gone,” I said. “Divorce does that. So you don’t want me to call anybody?”

She breathed out through her nose. “There’s no one to call. It’s just me and him.”

A man in blue scrubs came in. He sat down and said, “He’s stable.”

“Oh!” Rebecca squealed, the tears coming again.

“We’re going to recommend increasing his dialysis. Dr. Corwin is on his way down here and will explain everything. There’s some medication we can try, as well, that we haven’t used yet.”

“Will it happen again?”

The doctor was silent for a second. “I don’t know.”

He said that Rebecca could see Joel, but that he was resting. She followed him back, leaving me and Olivia in the waiting room.

“You didn’t have to come,” I said.

“I wanted to.”

“No hot date tonight with that attorney from Walcott?”

She grinned. “You noticed that, huh? He did call. We were supposed to have dinner.”

“There’s no reason for both of us to be here. You’re young—you should be out on dates. Go have fun. I have it covered.”

“Actually, I feel like some cafeteria food, if you want to join me.”

“You sure? This isn’t exactly where I would want to spend a Friday night if I were you.”

“I’m sure.”

The cafeteria was nearly empty. The food looked a little hammered, as it was the end of the day, but the enchiladas appeared edible. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t feel like just sitting there, either, so I got the enchiladas and a tea. Olivia got a cookie and chocolate milk. We sat at a table by the windows and watched the crowds heading out on the town.

“I thought that was brave,” she said. “How you asked for so much money. All the clerks were talking about it after.”

“There’s nothing brave about it. It’s just greed.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I don’t think I am who you think I am, Olivia.”

She thought for a moment. “You’re the kind of guy who’s at a hospital on a Friday night because you know your client doesn’t have anyone else to be here with him.” She bit into her cookie and stared out the windows. After a while, she sighed and looked around. “You never get used to the smell of the hospital. It’s this weird, kind of antiseptic smell. I’ve been in so many, I thought I wouldn’t notice it anymore.”

“I used to have to go with my dad all the time. He would get drunk and fall down the stairs or hit his head somewhere and cut it open.”

“I didn’t know my dad. They never talked again after they hooked up after a dance.”

“Just one dance?”

“Just one. My mom was kind of a slut in the eighties.”

I grinned. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. You?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Whoa.”

“That old, really?”

“No,” she said. “It’s not that. You’re just so young to be so successful.”

“Although I bet I was the type of lawyer your torts professor warned you about. The kind that gives us a bad name and that you should never be like no matter how much you’re starving.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because they told me that, too. It made me want to be that lawyer more. I didn’t intend to slave away in a law library and just be content that I was part of some grand profession. I wanted to be rich. I thought law was a good way to do that. But there were a million different ways I could’ve done it without law school.”

“Seems to have worked out for you.”

“A nearly forty-year-old guy, once divorced, whose best friends, who are also his business partners, are slowly drifting away from him, and his ex-wife is marrying his polar opposite?”

“No, someone who has the admiration of everyone working for him. You should hear the associates and clerks talk about you. How awesome you are in court, how insurance defense lawyers are scared of you, how much money you get for our clients.”

“Yeah,” I said, then took a bite of the enchilada. “There is that.” The enchilada was cold and rubbery. “This reminds me of elementary school food.”

“No, elementary school food was better.”

“I know a place. Let’s go check in with Rebecca and go there.”

“Sure, why not. I have nothing planned but watching
Vampire Diaries
tonight.”

We tried to check on Joel, but they wouldn’t let us into the room. I texted Rebecca that I was leaving.

I knew of a restaurant by the University of Utah. It primarily made its money as a bar catering to students, but a few people knew about the great food. We parked in the lot behind the pharmacy next door and hiked up a hill to get to the joint.

Inside was dark, but not smoky like it had been a decade ago. Smoking in public places had been banned in Utah, with an exception carved out for a few bars that functioned only as bars and not as restaurants. We sat at a table in the center.

“Can I order for you?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Two of Dom’s pizzas,” I said to the waitress. “And two beers.”

“Actually, I don’t drink. Just a Coke, please,” she said to the waitress.

The drinks came, and we took a few sips. Olivia seemed distracted. Her eyes would search the restaurant, then rest somewhere, and she would stare at that spot for a long time.

“What are you thinking about?” I finally asked.

“Just my mom. Sometimes I get home and she’s okay, and sometimes, she’s having an episode. I never know which it will be.”

“Can’t be easy for either of you.”

“It has its moments. I think it’s just hard because I still remember what she was like before the episodes starting getting worse. Until I was ten, she was just like any other mom. Then the episodes started happening and I knew something was wrong. The medication helps, though. An antipsychotic that’s kind of new. Without it I never would’ve been able to leave her long enough to go to law school. But it kind of levels her out. She used to paint, and once she started the medication, she couldn’t do it anymore. She had a little studio and just completely abandoned it.”

“I’ve heard of things like that. I had a friend I used to share an apartment with. Really creative guy. There’d always be drawings of these magnificent buildings up on the walls. Stuff I’ve never seen before or since. He became an architect, but needed bipolar medication. Once he started the medication, he couldn’t work. Couldn’t come up with anything. He had to get off the medication so he wouldn’t lose his job.”

“That’s wild. Is he doing okay?”

“No,” I said. “He punched his boss in the face during a manic episode and got fired.”

She snorted, then immediately covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not funny.”

“No, it’s fine. He opened his own office, and he’s good now. Still not taking his meds, though.”

She sipped her drink. “What about you? Have you been to therapy?”

I grinned, then guzzled half my glass. “That’s a little personal for a first date, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know we were on a date.”

“We’re not. Forget I said that. I don’t want to get sued.”

“I think I’d hire Bob Walcott as my lawyer. He’d get a kick out of suing you.”

“Yeah, he definitely would.”

“What happened to his eye?”

“I think he’s faking it.”

“No!”

I nodded, taking another drink. “That’s the rumor. He fakes it to intimidate everyone. But all the plaintiffs’ lawyers think he’s faking it, so I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling. Maybe you do something long enough, and you can’t stop.”

She shook her head. “Weird. What’s with you two, by the way? It seems personal.”

“When I first started, he took advantage of my naivety and screwed my client. I’ve never forgiven him. We’ve worked together a few times since then, but I usually let Marty or Raimi handle it.”

That reminded me that I had told my partners I would meet them. I took out my phone and saw I had two texts from Marty, asking where I was. I replied that I would be late and to get started without me.

“If you need to go, it’s cool.”

“No, it’s fine. I like it here. Reminds me of being in college. You went to BYU, didn’t you? What’d you major in?”

“You didn’t read my resume?”

“Honestly, I only looked at your extracurriculars.”

“Oh, yeah? You were impressed by my violin playing and chess?”

“Something like that.”

“I majored in math.”

“Seriously? Why would you possibly become a lawyer if you could be a mathematician?”

“I don’t know. Same as everyone else, I guess. Just want to help people.”

“There’re better ways to help people. You could work for a nonprofit or something.”

“Nonprofits need lawyers, too. Why do you hate the profession so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” I said, holding up a finger, “I don’t hate it.” I leaned back in my chair. The alcohol was warming my stomach and loosening my muscles. “I just think it’s a sham. It’s not what anybody thinks it is, and there’s a new law school popping up every day. People who don’t know what else to do with their lives become lawyers, and the market shrinks for everybody. It’s a race to the bottom. Within a few decades, lawyers will be charging so little, you won’t be able to survive on it. The day of even the middle-class trial lawyers is gone.”

“That’s depressing, considering I’m just barely starting out.”

“Don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“Become a lawyer. Find something else that you love and do that. The law is swimming with sharks because we’ve eaten all the fish. Don’t do it.”

“Wow. Didn’t think I’d hear that from my boss.”

I shrugged, finished my beer, and ordered another.

16

Olivia and I ate and drank well into the night. She had a casualness that was pleasant to be around. She was one of those people who could make strangers feel as if they’d known her their entire lives.

We talked about my life working as a ranch hand in Arizona after high school and about what had led me to law school. It was really just a billboard, one I think everyone else hated. A lawyer—I don’t even remember his name now—was sitting on the hood of his Ferrari and saying, “Accident? You wanna be rich? Call me today.” I didn’t even register the “accident” or the “call me today” portions. All I saw was a giant billboard that said, “You wanna be
rich
?”

At the time, I had six dollars in my checking account, and my job, which was seasonal, was ending in two weeks. The billboard spoke to me more than almost anything ever had. I quickly finished my bachelor’s degree in a night program while I waited tables during the day, and then I applied to six law schools. University of Kansas was the only one that accepted me, and I was approved for student loans to cover tuition. I loaded up on credits each semester and took summer classes, too—as many as I could. I finished law school in two years rather than three, then clerked for a nearby solo practitioner who focused on personal injury. I analyzed the markets for personal injury law and found that Utah, despite its two law schools pumping out graduates, had a low number of personal injury lawyers per capita. Only North and South Dakota had lower numbers, but I sure as hell wasn’t moving to either of those. I packed up one gym bag and took the Bar in Utah.

Olivia seemed amazed by the fact that someone could just pick up and move their entire life at the drop of a hat. She’d never lived anywhere except the house she had been born in and one summer in California.

Her experience of law school was a lot different than mine, too: she aced every class, was on the staff of every prestigious journal, and didn’t even seem to need to study. She said she would just glance at the assigned reading and know what the professors were looking for. For me, law school consisted of two years of pain and frustration. For her, it was a time to relax and get to know her fellow students.

I didn’t remember I was supposed to meet Marty and Raimi until I was home in bed.

I woke up the next morning and didn’t have a hangover. I even went for a quick jog before coming home to make coffee and have a croissant. When enough time had passed, I called Rebecca.

“How is he?” I asked.

“He’s awake now. We’re just watching television. They think he can go back to ICU this afternoon.”

“Rebecca, I need to talk to you about something. An offer’s been made on Joel’s case.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, it’s customary to negotiate at the outset on something like this, even though both sides don’t have all the information yet. They offered one million. Our firm would get a third of that, and the rest would go to you. You probably wouldn’t ever have to work again if you were careful with the money.”

“And they’re going to come out publicly and say what happened?”

“No, the opposite. They’ll draft a gag order for a judge to sign. It’ll state that you can’t ever talk about the case to anyone in public. If the terms of the deal ever got out, they could sue you.”

“They won’t even apologize? They’re going to get away with this?”

“We don’t know for sure how much they’re liable for this. There could very well be some maniac out there poisoning children’s medicine. It’s weird that it’s only one medicine and only in one geographic location and that there haven’t been any additional cases, but that doesn’t preclude the possibility that this was one person who tampered with a few bottles after the cough syrup was already in stores. Pharma-K is offering this money to get this case out of the news and move on. The more people hear about it, the fewer will buy their cough medicine and other products.”

Silence a moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t want this to happen to anyone else’s child. And I want to know why my son is dying. You can’t imagine how important that is. But I’ll do whatever you say. I trust you. If you say to take it, I’ll take it.”

I leaned against my kitchen counter. I could tell her to take it, and our firm would have over three hundred thirty-three thousand in the bank by the end of the week. I could tell her not to take it, and we might spend five times that litigating this thing.

The first thought that entered my mind was of Joel being wheeled around that corner. He’d looked so out of it, as if he could go at any second. Rebecca was right: if Pharma-K had anything to do with this, they were getting away with it. No one would ever find out what happened, and it might happen again to someone else. But that wasn’t my problem, was it? I was their lawyer, not their family counselor.

I opened my mouth to tell her to take it, but then I stopped. I kept playing that scene over and over again: Joel being rushed around a corner, doctors working frantically to save his life.

“Don’t take it,” I said. “We can ask for ten times that from a jury, and we might get it if we can show fault on the company’s part. Even if it’s just that they didn’t tamperproof the medicine well enough.”

“Okay, I won’t take it. So what happens now?”

I sighed. “Now we go to war.”