Mark Gimenez - The Common Lawyer

The attorney was safe from his client.

Andy's brief tenure as Russell Reeves' lawyer was over, as well as everything that had come with it: the girls, the clothes, the lounges, the loft, the money. Except the complications; Andy's life remained complicated.

One complication was the money in his trust account. Russell had wired $50,000 for Hollis McCloskey and $1 million for Sally Armstrong in San Diego. Andy had paid $25,000 to Hollis and $9,999 three times to Lorenzo. That left $995,003.

And got a legal pad and a pen and calculated his billable hours since his last bill to Russell: the Boston, Montana, and San Diego trips, tracking Frankie down, collecting her DNA, even the chase from UT. He came up with one hundred twenty hours. Times $500 an hour, he was due $60,000 in fees. Plus $12,000 in expenses, including the $1,000 he paid to Mickey and the $1,000 to Ramon. Less the $25,000 Russell had already paid him (the $10,000 for the DNA was a bonus), and Andy was owed $47,000.

He would transfer that sum to his checking account. That would leave $948,003 in his trust account. He was legally obligated to return that money to his former client, Russell Reeves. It wasn't Andy's money. He pulled out his cell phone and called home. When his father answered, Andy asked for Frankie.

"Andy, are you okay?"

Her voice sounded good.

"Reeves' people just chased me all over town."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't tell him where you are."

"I told you he'd come for me."

"Frankie, you got a bank account?"

"In Buda."

"How'd you get a bank account without using your social security number?"

"I used my mom's. I'm her legal guardian."

"Are you her sole beneficiary?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Give me your account number."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

"But you're a lawyer."

Notwithstanding that fact, she gave him her bank account number. He hung up. It was all his fault. If he had just taken no for an answer when McCloskey couldn't find Frankie Doyle, none of this would be happening. But he had wanted the money. He had wanted Suzie and Bobbi and everything else that came with the money. So he had gone to Lorenzo. He had found Frankie Doyle. He had brought Russell Reeves to her. Andy's mother was right: Money makes good men do bad things. Now he would have to make things right.

He wondered if a C student were up to it.

Andy woke early the next morning without the alarm. It was Friday, and he wanted to get to Wimberley. He needed to talk to Frankie. He showered and dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. He was starving, and there was no food or coffee in the loft; and coffee and a muffin at Jo's was out of the question.

But he needed carbs.

He decided to pick up breakfast tacos and a coffee at Whole Foods then hit the road. He grabbed his cell phone, the bike lock, and the Stumpjumper then stepped outside. He put on his helmet and saddled up. He looked around; no dirt bikes or black sedans were in sight.

The coast was clear.

He pedaled west on Fifth the two blocks to Whole Foods. He turned north on Bowie Street and entered the underground parking garage-just to be on the safe side. He parked and locked the bike outside the escalators. He went in through the automatic doors and stepped onto the up escalator.

The down escalator to Andy's left was crowded with shoppers heading to their cars in the garage with grocery carts piled high. The down escalator at Whole Foods was the kind that flattened out into one long ramp; the grocery carts didn't roll down the ramp because rings connected to the wheels locked the carts into the escalator grooves. So shoppers could take their carts down the escalator to the parking garage.

At store level, both sides of the escalator were protected by waist-high glass panels to prevent a customer from inadvertently falling down the escalator bay. As he rose into the store, Andy ducked slightly and peered through the glass panels for anyone who looked out of place. To his right was a dining area; to his left were the checkout lines. At the mouth of the escalator were the outdoor market and the floral department; beyond were shoppers gathered at the nut roaster. He saw tattoos and body piercings, shaved heads and unshaven legs, hippies and yuppies, and fit females in Spandex.

Just the normal Whole Foods crowd.

He got off the escalator and came around the checkout counters. He wanted to run straight down the gluten-free aisle and into "Beer Alley" and hide out in the walk-in beer cooler for the day with a case of Coronas; instead, he walked toward the food court with his head ducked down. He went past the Organic Clothes and Whole Body and Health amp; Beauty section selling environmentally friendly jewelry and was passing the juice bar when Team Member Charlene sang out, "Hi, Andy!"

He cringed.

For Christ's sake, Charlene, why don't you just announce over the store's public-address system that I'm here?

He stopped at the breakfast taco bar. Team Member Brad said, "The regular?" Andy nodded then scanned the food court crowd. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hi, Andy."

Except Suzie.

"Oh, uh, hi, Suzie."

"You haven't called me."

Still searching the crowd.

"I've been busy."

"With Bobbi?"

"Work."

"Do you like my new gym outfit?"

"What?"

Andy now turned his attention to Suzie and her gym outfit. She twirled around for him to see. Sweet Jesus. Now that was a gym outfit: a skin-tight white tube top that revealed much about her anatomy and white Spandex short-shorts that stretched the few inches from well below her navel to just below her cheeks. Body parts were snugly encased, ripped abs were exposed, and Andy's body was enthused. Spandex.

"That's a, uh, really nice outfit, Suzie."

When Andy finally looked up at her face, his peripheral vision caught two black figures standing at the sliding glass entrance doors to the food court; two Darrell-wannabes had just entered from the outdoor patio. They wore black pants and black knit shirts stretched tight around their muscular bodies; they looked like they had cornered the steroids market. Andy had the urge to cut and run, but (a) Suzie was standing between him and the men in black, so they didn't have a direct line of sight to him, and (b) he was starving. He needed those carbs.

"Hi, Andy."

Bobbi glided past Andy and Suzie and gave him a coy smile. Andy turned and stared at her Spandex. Wow.

"Andy!"

Back to Suzie.

"You're looking at Bobbi instead of me?"

Suzie was gorgeous, but Andy could never resist looking at other girls who walked by-why was that? Suzie put on her pouty face and stormed off. Andy turned his back to the front door then ducked behind a tall display for Electrolyte Enhanced Water. He peeked around at the brutes in black.

Christ, they were talking to Suzie.

Figure her to find the two fittest men in Whole Foods. And they were fit. But not fit in the Austin way. They were fit in the military way. Their muscles weren't carefully constructed by a high-priced personal trainer for the express purpose of attracting the opposite sex at Whole Foods-although they were sure as hell attracting Suzie. Their muscles were made for fighting. He could read their lips: "Have you seen Andy Prescott?"

Suzie turned and pointed at the breakfast taco bar.

Thanks a lot, Suzie.

"Andy, your tacos."

Team Member Brad was holding out two hot delicious breakfast tacos wrapped in aluminum foil. Andy pulled a $10 bill from his pocket, stood with his back to the men, and handed the bill across the counter.

"Keep the change."

Andy took the tacos from Brad, stuffed them in his pocket, and slowly turned. The men were ten feet away and closing. They had ear buds and were talking into their shirt collars. Andy walked the opposite way.