The Client (Page 40)

"May I help you?" the receptionist asked as she lowered the phone.

"I need to see Chester Tanfill." "He’s in a meeting." "I know. He’s a very busy man, but I have something for him." The receptionist placed the phone on the desk. "I see. And what might that be?" "It’s really none of your business. I need to see Chester Tanfill. It’s urgent." This really pissed her off. The nameplate declared her to be Louise Chenault. "I don’t care how urgent it is, ma’am. You can’t just barge in here and demand to see the president of this company." "This company is a sweatshop, and I’ve just sued it for two million bucks. And I’ve also sued Chester boy for a couple of million, and I’m telling you to find his sorry ass and get him out here immediately." Louise jumped to her feet and backed away from the desk. "Are you some kind of lawyer?" Reggie pulled the lawsuit and the summons from the briefcase. She looked at it, ignored Louise, and said, "I am indeed a lawyer. And I need to serve these papers on Chester. Now, find him. If he’s not here in five minutes, I’ll amend it and ask for five million in dam-ages." Louise bolted from the room and ran through a set of double doors. Reggie waited a second, then followed. She walked through a room filled with tacky, cramped cubicles. Cigarette smoke seemed to ooze from every opening. The carpet was ancient shag and badly worn. She caught a glimpse of Louise’s round rump darting into a door on the right, and she followed.

Chester Tanfill was in the process of standing behind his desk when Reggie barged in. Louise was speechless. "You can leave now," Reggie said rudely. "I’m Reggie Love, attorney-at-law," she said, glaring at Chester.

"Chester Tanfill," he said without offering a hand. She wouldn’t have taken it. "This is a bit rude, Ms. Love." "The name is Reggie, okay, Chester? Tell Louise to leave." He nodded and Louise gladly left, closing the door behind her.

"What do you want?" he snapped. He was wiry and gaunt, around fifty, with a spotted face and puffy eyes partially hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. A drinking problem, she thought. The clothes were Sears or Penney’s. His neck was turning dark red.

She threw the lawsuit and the summons on his desk. "I’m serving you with this lawsuit." He smirked at it, a man unafraid of lawyers and their games. "For what?" "I represent Dianne Sway. You fired her this morning, and we’re suing you this afternoon. How’s that for swift justice?" Chester’s eyes narrowed and he looked at the lawsuit again. "You’re kidding." "You’re a fool if you think I’m kidding. It’s all right there, Chester. Wrongful discharge, sexual harassment, the works. A couple of million in damages. I file these things all the time. I must say, however, that this is one of the best I’ve seen. This poor woman has been at the hospital for two days with her son. Her doctor says she cannot leave his bedside. In fact, he’s called here and explained her situation, but no, you assholes fire her for missing work. I can’t wait to explain this to a jury." It sometimes took Chester’s lawyer two days to return a phone call, and this woman, Dianne Sway, files a full-blown lawsuit within hours of being terminated. He slowly picked up the papers and studied the front page. "I’m named personally?" he asked as if his feelings were hurt.

"You fired her, Chester. Don’t worry though, when the jury returns a verdict against you individually, you can simply file for bankruptcy." Chester pulled his chair under him and carefully sat down. "Please, sit," he said, waving at a chair.

"No thanks. Who’s your attorney?" "Uh, jeez, uh, Findley and Baker. But just wait a minute. Let me think about this." He flipped the page and scanned the pleadings. "Sexual harassment?" "Yeah, that’s a fertile field these days. Seems as though one of your supervisors has put the move on my client. Always suggesting things they might do in the rest room during lunch. Always telling dirty jokes. Lots of crude talk. It’ll all come out at trial. Who should I call at Findley and Baker?" "Just wait a minute." He nipped the pages, then laid them on the desk. She stood next to his desk, glaring down. He rubbed his temples. "I don’t need this." "Neither did my client." "What does she want?" "A little dignity. You run a sweatshop here. You prey on single working mothers who can barely feed their children on what you pay. They cannot afford to complain." He was rubbing his eyes now. "Skip the lecture, okay. I just don’t need this. There could, well, there might be some trouble at the top." "I couldn’t care less about you and your troubles, Chester. A copy of this lawsuit will be hand-delivered to the Memphis Press this afternoon, and I’m sure it’ll run tomorrow. The Sways are getting more than their share of ink these days." "What does she want?" he asked again.

"Are you trying to bargain?""Maybe. I don’t think you can win this case, Ms. Love, but I don’t need the headache." "It’ll be more than a headache, I promise. She makes nine hundred dollars a month, and takes home around six-fifty. That’s eleven thousand bucks a year, and I promise your legal costs on this lawsuit will run five times that much. I’ll obtain access to your personnel records. I’ll take the depositions of other female employees. I’ll open up your financial books. I’ll subpoena all your records. And if I see anything the least bit improper, I’ll notify the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, the National Labor Relations Board, the IRS, OSHA, and anybody else who might be interested. I’ll make you lose sleep, Chester. You’ll wish a thousand times you hadn’t fired my client." He slapped the table with both palms. "What does she want, dammit!" Reggie picked up her briefcase and walked to the door. "She wants her job. A raise would be nice, say from six bucks an hour to nine, if you can spare it. And if you can’t, then do it anyway. Transfer her to another section, away from the dirty supervisor." Chester listened carefully. This was not too bad.

"She’ll be in the hospital for a few weeks. She has bills, so I want the payroll checks to keep coming. In fact, Chester, I want the payroll checks delivered to the hospital, just like you clowns delivered her termination letter this morning. Every Friday, I want the check delivered. Okay?" He slowly nodded yes.

"You have thirty days to answer the lawsuit. If you behave and do as I say, I’ll dismiss it on the thirtieth day. You have my word. You don’t have to tell your lawyers about it. Is it a deal?" "Deal." Reggie opened the door. "Oh, and send some flowers. Room 943. A card would be nice. In fact, send some fresh flowers every week. Okay, Chester?" He was still nodding.

She slammed the door and left the grungy corporate offices of Ark-Lon Fixtures.

MARK AND RICKY SAT ON THE END OF THE FOLDAWAY BED and looked up into the bearded and intense face of Dr. Greenway less than two feet away. Ricky wore a pair of Mark’s hand-me-down pajamas with a blanket draped over his shoulders. He was cold, as usual, and scared, and uncertain about this first venture out of his bed, even though it was inches away. And he preferred his mother to be present, but the doctor had gently insisted on talking to the boys by themselves. -Greenway had spent almost twelve hours now trying to win Ricky’s confidence. He sat close to his big brother, who was bored with this little chat before it started.

The shades were pulled, the lights were dim, the room was dark except for a small lamp on a table by the bathroom. Greenway leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Now, Ricky, I would like to talk about the other day when you and Mark went to the woods for a smoke. Okay?" This frightened Ricky. How did Greenway know they were smoking? Mark leaned over an inch or two and said, "It’s okay, Ricky. I’ve already told them about it. Mom’s not mad at us." "Do you remember going for a smoke?" Green-way asked.