by Bill Sage
“I know you have to get going. I’ll get the check.”
Linda gathered up her purse and the loose-leaf binder with the spec data sheets she’d brought with her.
As she stood up to leave, Ward said, “Bob tells me you know Judge Roth. I’ve met him a few times. Nice guy.”
“Yes, we’re good friends.”
“Be sure to tell him I said hello.” He paused, smiling. “Steve Ward, from Hamilton’s office. He’ll know me.”
“I certainly will. I’ll be seeing him soon.”
That night, Linda called Al to tell him about her meeting with Ward. “Guess what. I had lunch with a friend of yours.”
“Nice. Who was that?”
“Mr. Ward.”
“Ward?”
“Steve Ward from Hamilton’s office. We had lunch today. He asked me to say hello to you.”
“You had lunch with Steve Ward?”
“Yes, at Bernard’s.”
“How did that happen?”
“He wanted to talk to me about my bid. Hamilton asked him to help in reviewing the proposals. He wants to know if I can tweak mine a little so they’ll be able to give the contract to me.”
That asshole’s trying to drag Linda into the Ryan case.
“So what are you supposed to do, revise your bid? Meet again?”
“I’m supposed to send or deliver a modified bid to the current S&L headquarters, in Irvine.”
“Has he contacted you since you had your little meeting?”
“Little meeting?” Linda said in a sharp tone. “It was business. And no, he hasn’t.”
“Let’s talk about it at Franco’s. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“Okay, but I don’t know what there is to talk about. It’s not that big a deal.”
“I know. I just want to keep up to date on what’s going on with your bid. And, I don’t know, maybe there’s something I can do to help with Ward.”
32
THAT NIGHT ROTH WENT TO FRANCO’S by himself to have dinner with Jake, Lopez, and Franco. It was a small get-together Franco had set up for them a week earlier.
His chef had over-bought racks of lamb. So Franco called Al and invited him to have dinner with him at the restaurant.
Franco said, “Pick a night, and please ask Carlos and your other friends to join us. They’d be welcome.”
Al thought that was a great idea and said he’d check with Carlos and the others.
Jake and Lopez said they could make it, only Bradford had prior plans he couldn’t break.
Lopez and Al arrived at Franco’s at the same time. They shook hands with Franco and sat at the bar. Al had his black briefcase with him.
“What are you carrying that for?” Lopez asked.
“Got some goodies for our dinner. You’ll see.”
Eleven minutes later Jake showed up and took a seat at the bar next to Al.
Al could tell Jake looked a little uncomfortable. He was quiet and reserved, almost like he didn’t want to be there. But that’s the way he usually acted when he was with people other than Al or the other 12th Street Gang guys.
This was the first time Jake and Lopez ever met. Al wondered what would happen, two badasses with giant egos and overflowing testosterone.
Lopez made the first overture. He slipped off his stool and sidled over to Jake. “I’m Carlos Lopez.”
“Al’s spoken about you many times,” Jake said, sticking out his hand.
They shook hands.
“You guys are long-time friends,” Lopez said.
“We go back many years. Detroit.”
“Glad we can finally meet.”
“Now I can put a face on what Al tells me.”
Al said, “Well, I see you guys are getting along. I guess I won’t have to sit between you.”
“We’re okay,” Lopez said, laughing.
Jake eyed Al, but didn’t say anything. Then he turned back to Lopez.
While Jake and Lopez huddled together, Al and Franco talked about a wild boar hunting trip they were planning to take to Catalina Island. As Al glanced over at Jake and Lopez yukking it up, he could see they liked each other.
He thought, Well, it makes sense. They both made their living from criminal activity.
After eight or ten minutes, Franco led them to a darkly lit room behind the bar he used for small private parties. Al and Linda had eaten there numerous times with Franco and sometimes the chef.
A large banquet table was in the middle of the room, an open box containing flour and other dry goods sitting on top of it.
One wall had a large glass window that peeked into the kitchen. Al could see a worker cutting potatoes and a woman hanging fresh pasta on a portable rack.
A doorway on that side of the room led into the kitchen. Aprons and chef hats hung from hooks near the door and two cardboard boxes containing produce were stacked on a chair against the wall.
Franco picked up the box from the table and placed it on a chair in the corner. “Sit down and enjoy. Anyone want anything from the bar? It’s on me.”
“Thanks, Franco. I brought a bottle of Rittenhouse for us to drink. So we’ll drain my stuff first,” Al said, opening his briefcase and yanking out the bottle.
“You know I’ll order it anytime you want. Just give me the word.”
“I know, Franco. But it gives us a chance to drink Scotch.”
“Whatever,” Franco said, shaking his head. “I’ll bring glasses.”
When Franco returned, he introduced the chef. “This is Fabrizio, my chef. He’s the guy you can thank for your dinner tonight.”
Fabrizio was a thin guy with wire-rim glasses and short, brown hair. Spoke with an Italian accent and smiled most of the time. “It’s my pleasure to make dinner for all of you tonight,” he said, waving his arm as he spoke. “You saved me from getting fired.”
Everyone laughed, except Jake. Franco laughed the hardest.
“Thanks, Fabrizio,” Al said. “We appreciate the invitation, my friend.” Then as he removed a box with eight cigars from the briefcase, he said, “We brought you and Franco some cigars to show our appreciation.”
“Cigars! You know how much I love ‘em,” Franco said. “We can smoke them after dinner.”
Al opened the rye and poured out shots for everybody. “Let’s get down to drinking. Loosen up, guys.”
Franco downed his right away and then he and Fabrizio left the room.
Jake said, “When did you get the cigars?”
“Yeah, I wanna chip in,” Lopez said.
“I got it covered. Smoke one when we finish. Maybe two,” Al said.
Half hour later, whiffs of garlic and rosemary drifted in from the kitchen. Fabrizio popped his head in. “Get ready, guys.”
He made them racks of lamb, rosemary roasted potatoes, asparagus with specks of prosciutto, and tiramisu for dessert. Plenty of wine and cappuccinos.
“You know, Italians only drink cappuccinos in the morning,” Lopez said.
“No one gives a shit,” Jake said.
“Okay, let’s drink all we want,” Al said.
After dinner, they sat around, smoking cigars and finishing most of the rye. Then they turned to guzzling Franco’s Scotch and brandy.
When everyone was satiated but before they started falling asleep, Al told them about Ward contacting Linda.
“Amateur night. I guess he’s sending me a message,” Al said in a sarcastic tone.
Since Al never told Lopez anything about Ward’s attempt to blackmail him into giving Ryan no time, he brought him up to speed.
“I didn’t know anything about that,” Lopez said. “Now he’s trying to drag her into his shit?”
“It’s their latest effort in saving Ryan,” Al said.
“You should’ve listened to me,” Jake said, leaning forward in his chair. “It’s not gonna end. More and more shit.” Jake paused and stared at Al. “You can see that.”
Al had to admit Jake had been right. As he was getti
ng ready to say something, he saw Jake glaring at him. Al knew Jake thought this was yet just another example of him “thinking shit out too much.”
“I agree with what you’ve said about Ward,” Roth said. “But I got something I want to try first.” Then he told them about an idea he had for using Lopez to make Ward back off.
“That’s good,” Lopez said, chuckling. “I’d be playing myself.” Then he and Al discussed how they’d put it in operation and ironed out some of the finer details.
Jake sat there just listening, looking like he thought Al was making a mistake.
After kicking Al’s idea around for a few minutes Lopez said, “It’ll definitely work. Sort of a reprise of my Torres act.” He turned to look at Jake to check his reaction.
The look on Jake’s face said it all—You guys don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.
“What do you think,” Al asked Jake.
Jake hesitated, then said, “You’re talking about doing shit that’s not my thing.” He paused a second. “I got my own ideas.”
Lopez glanced at Jake and then back at Al.
“We know,” Al said, smiling. “But here’s the thing. If this doesn’t work, that means Linda won’t be getting the job. So, then I’ll…I’ll take another look.”
Al and Jake exchanged glances.
Lopez eyed them for a second. “Gotta go to the head.” Then he got up and walked out of the room.
After Lopez left, Al waited five or six seconds. “If this doesn’t work out, you can take him out. Get payback for Linda and eliminate the threat for me.”
Jake nodded then sat back, no expression on his face.
Several minutes later, Al got up and went to the door to see if he could spot Lopez. After two or three minutes, he saw him making his way back to the room.
“Come in, it’s safe now,” Al called out.
Lopez came in and sat down. “So you two make any momentous decisions?”
“Could be,” Al said.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Lopez said, “but I just want to say that if Ward is blocked from doing his shit, that means you’ll be preventing him from committing a felony. Against you.” He stopped there and paused, looking at Al. “And as a citizen of Orange County I’d say that’d be a good thing. You’d be performing a public service.”
Al chuckled, admiring Lopez’s dry humor and grateful for his implied approval.
The next night Al went to Franco’s again, this time with Linda. They’d made plans to go there earlier in the week. The main reason was that Franco had told them he wanted Linda to try a new California Chardonnay he just started serving. “It’s like the chardonnay Linda used to enjoy so much. I think she’ll really like it.”
When they entered, the hostess Kay took them to their favorite table. A small cove by itself, against the back wall with a clear view of the room.
“Back so soon?” Kay asked Roth.
“Before you know it, I’ll be here every night.”
They slid into the booth, sitting side by side, and Kay walked away.
“Did I miss something?” Linda asked.
“Just a small dinner with Jake, Franco, and Carlos.”
“Great. The Detroit Mafia, plus two.”
“You wouldn’t have liked being there. Cigars, rye, and naked broads. It was awful. I couldn’t wait to leave.”
“A bunch of older drunks and broads. Nothing solid could come out of that.”
“Linda, you’re too up-tight. Don’t be so stiff.”
Before they ordered drinks, Franco came to their table with a glass of chardonnay for Linda. “Here’s the wine I was telling you about. You gotta try this. Very good. It’s from California.”
Linda took a sip. “Mmm. I like it.”
Franco then sat down at their table and called over a waiter. They ordered dinner and Al ordered a Scotch for himself.
They gossiped about some customers Al and Linda knew. “Bad news. Larry was laid off,” Franco said with a sad look. “He’s totally devastated.”
“He was always so friendly,” Linda said. “He’d come over to our table and have a drink with us.”
Five minutes later Franco got up. “Excuse me, I gotta get up front,” he said, pushing in his chair.
A few minutes after he left, Al brought up Ward. “I’m thinking about when you submit your modified bid to Reliable, maybe you can give Ward something I’ve been working on for him.”
“You’re working on something for him? What…”
“It’s nothing. A little legal opinion he asked me to prepare. I’m thinking when you give them your new bid, instead of delivering or mailing it to their headquarters, you could just hand it over to Ward during lunch. Then you could give him the opinion at the same time.”
“Legal opinion? What’s that all about?”
“The last time I saw him, he told me about a legal issue he had. It was personal. I told him I’d research it for him. The opinion is in the form of a letter. One page. Just hand it to him.”
Linda shrugged. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Jake or one of your friends in LA?” she said, jokingly.
“Sorry, not this time. It’s strictly legal business with Ward.”
“That’s no fun.” She paused, then said, “No problem, I can do that. When my team gets ready I’ll call him and arrange another lunch at Bernard’s. I don’t think he’ll have any problem with that.”
“Let me know the day before. I’ll give you the opinion,” Al said.
“Why don’t you come over the night before. I’ll make dinner. Salmon, your favorite.”
“That’d be great.”
33
LINDA MODIFIED HER BID AND MADE reservations at Bernard’s for her follow-up lunch with Ward.
The night before Linda was to meet with Ward, Al came over her house for a broiled salmon dinner.
After eating, they went into Linda’s family room and sat on the couch. “I don’t know how you do it. You have a unique way of doing salmon. Delicious,” Al said.
“It’s the stuff I put on it. My secret name for it is ‘mutsoy.’”
“You keep telling me that, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” After pausing a moment, he asked, “Is that the name of the brand or the ingredient itself?”
Linda gave him a mysterious look that morphed into a Mona Lisa smile.
Seeing that she wouldn’t disclose her secret ingredient, he went on to something else. “Have you completed a list of people we’re going to invite?”
“It’s tough. With my mom and dad getting into the picture, things are getting out of hand.”
“I gave you mine, only a few, so they’ll mainly be from your side.”
“I’ll go over it with you when it’s complete.”
Shaking his head, Al said, “No, it’s okay, you can handle it. You’re good at that kind of thing.”
“That’s so nice of you,” Linda said with a touch of sarcasm. “You’ll do anything to get out of working on the details of the wedding.”
“Yeah, on that kind of stuff.” Al paused a moment. “But as you know Hack and I will be making the huppah? He’s made one or two before and knows how to do it. So I will be doing something.”
“Great. You’re a dynamo, so eager to do things.”
“Sometimes, I think that… Oh, I don’t know, maybe I do too much.”
“Oh, you’re too funny,” she said, scoffing. “But while we’re talking about the huppah, don’t forget, wear big, heavy shoes,” Linda said, smiling.
Al laughed, saying, “Yeah, I’ll stomp the shit out of it.”
“I’m not worried about you,” Linda said, laughing too.
Al paused for a few seconds, then became serious. “Too bad…I screwed things up for us. We could’ve done this a year ago.”
“This is the best time,” Linda said, leaning closer to him. Then she kissed him lightly on the lips, which made Al smile. A lot.
After talking more about th
e wedding for a few more minutes, Al pulled a sealed superior court envelope out of his sport jacket inside pocket. “Here’s the letter, the legal opinion I did for Ward.”
“Okay,” she said, taking it from him.
“The only request I have is that you give it to him at the end of your lunch, just before you leave.”
“I thought you said this wasn’t one of your spooky, Detroit deals.”
“You’re so suspicious. Okay, I guess I better come clean. It’s a secret letter with vanishing ink. If you open it, it explodes.”
“Alright, I believe you. But what difference does it make when he opens it? Is there something I should know?”
“I don’t think he’ll like the legal opinion, that’s all. It’ll foul things up for you if he sees it before you two talk about your bid. That’s why you can only give it to him at the end of your meeting.”
The next afternoon Linda met Ward at Bernard’s. She showed him her new proposal and some updated technical reports prepared by her staff.
Ward seemed pleased. “Linda, this looks good. I’ll be sure to tell Bob you improved your bid.”
They talked more about the specifications for the equipment and the servicing contract. After a while, Ward asked, “Oh, by the way, did you ever have a chance to say hello to Judge Roth?”
“I did. He was happy that you thought of him. He said I should tell you that he looks forward to seeing you again. He said maybe you could stop by the court.”
“Oh, that’s nice to hear,” Ward said, forcing a smile.
They ordered lunch and iced teas. Talked more about the other bidders and some of the new regulations in the financial business.
“More and more regs,” Linda said. “Makes it tough.”
Ward nodded his agreement. “Yeah, they got their hands full.”
After a few minutes, the hostess walked past them, leading a customer to his table.
Linda glanced up and suddenly looked surprised. “Carlos,” she called out.
Carlos Lopez spun around and looked in her direction. Then he smiled and came over to her table. “Linda, hi.”