The Squeeze

by Paul Schueller

  The silence was broken by the receptionist’s voice over the intercom. “There’s a gentleman from McKinstry here asking to speak to Mr. Gardner or Mr. DeFallo.” Tommy stood up and slammed his fist into the drywall. Before the pain from his hand could start radiating through his body, he turned to John. “Cut the deal. He’ll want to finalize it before the end of the day so he can stand up with the exchange guys and let everyone know it’s all going to be okay. The son of a bitch played us. He let the news leak early so we wouldn’t be ready.”

  Tommy headed down the back hall, knowing he couldn’t stand to see the smug look that Mark was bound to be wearing. He walked down the back stairs and through the alley to pop out on Quincy Street like he had hundreds of times before. This time, he did it as a poor man once again, seemingly mocked by the Chicago Board of Trade building. Everything would be fine tomorrow, except for him. He called Susan and waited for her to pick up.

  Susan immediately lectured him. “You really should be a little better about getting back to me.”

  “Well, this time, unfortunately, I have a pretty good excuse. The business completely imploded over the last couple of days. I need your professional help and please, if you don’t mind, can you provide it without saying, ‘I told you so?’”

  “Fine. I can do that. How bad is it?” Susan asked.

  “The whole thing is being taken over by McKinstry, with the Federal Commodities people and others in the loop.”

  “So, what can I do?” Susan asked.

  “Keep me out of jail. We threw all our money at this thing and gained some credibility with the Feds, Cook County, and the exchanges.

  If McKinstry can keep the market from going under through the next couple of days, I’m hoping they will cut us some slack,” Tommy reasoned.

  “So you need me to interface with all the attorneys I assume,” Susan continued.

  “Yes, please start by getting in touch with John and his attorney, because they are handling the details with McKinstry. We probably need to wrap all of this up this week. Right now all of the parties want to either sue us or throw us in jail. Can we get that nice conference room of yours on Friday?” Tommy asked.

  “Fine, let’s assume Friday, here, at Young & Erickson.” Susan was definitely annoyed with Tommy, but she found herself wanting to help him.

  “Will your fat boss be there?” Tommy asked.

  “Yes, Sam will be there. He loves doing work for broke clients. But Tommy, the only way you’re going to avoid jail is if everyone’s too embarrassed to drag this thing out.”

  9

  The cleanup of the mess was just as swift as the implosion. McKinstry made sure all of the bad paper was bought back and taken off the market.

  Things stabilized within a couple of days but not until prices were under three dollars per ton. John handled the negotiation with McKinstry over an intense two-day period that basically amounted to handing the business over in hopes that it would lead to a smooth exit for all parties.

  The negotiation for a lifetime commodities trading ban that Susan and Sam had helped broker was as good as it was going to get. Tommy met Susan back at Young & Erickson Saturday morning to sign the revised documents that had been presented the previous day. This would keep Tommy out of prison—unless he broke the terms of his probation.

  Signing the company over to McKinstry had been more difficult since Tommy knew that he had been played by Mark.

  “So, Tommy, this should be everything we covered yesterday. The Feds, Cook County, and all of the other entities involved all agree not to pursue any criminal prosecution for securities and commodities-related fraud by either Environmental Verifications or Carbon Traders,” Susan said. “And I admit no personal guilt, right?” Tommy asked.

  “Right,” Susan replied.

  “And George is signing the exact same agreement?”

  “Yes, he should be here any minute.”

  “And is John signing, too?” Tommy asked.

  “He’s still trying to cut his own deal, but I don’t think it will be much different.” Susan said.

  George walked in and came around the far side of the table to start signing his pile of documents. Tommy stared at George, who looked tired and older than Tommy had ever thought or noticed before. Suddenly, Tommy could see himself down the road of the decade that separated the two, and he sighed with a tired dread.

  Tommy turned to George. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here. Gives me a chance to say this to you directly. I’m sorry that we got you involved in this disaster.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who lost everything. Yeah, I’ve got to find another career, but that’s life,” George said.

  “What are you going to do next?” Tommy asked.

  “I’m flying out today to do a little late spring skiing in Colorado to clear my head. After that, I have no idea,” George said.

  “You willing to get back together and try to figure out what happened? Wouldn’t you like to know for sure who fucked us over?” Tommy asked.

  “What’s that going to change?” George said.

  “Nothing, but everything,” Tommy was worried about George, but more worried about not being able to move on without knowing what happened himself.

  “Well, maybe. Probably. Call me in a couple of weeks. Things may have changed,” George said.

  “What could possibly change?” Tommy asked.

  “I don’t know. Something. We’ll see.” George responded.

  “Well,” Tommy said, looking puzzled by the response. “See you in a couple of weeks, I guess.”

  10

  Tommy and Susan went out in the hallway, leaving George in the room to finish signing his paperwork.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” Susan asked Tommy.

  “Probably head back to my hometown for a couple of days,” Tommy said. “Going home?” Susan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve hardly ever even mentioned your home. I mean other than telling me it’s a pretty little town; I don’t know anything about it.”

  “I didn’t say it was my home, you did. I said my hometown. It’s not exactly something I like to talk or think about,” Tommy responded. “I kind of blocked it out. Haven’t been back in eighteen years.”

  “What could have been that bad?” Susan asked.

  “My dad dying. And losing my friends Jenny and Pat in the process; there was nothing left for me there,” Tommy said.

  “Are those old girlfriends?” Susan asked. Tommy could tell that she was hurt that he had never shared anything with her about his hometown before this.

  “Pat’s a guy, and both were just friends.”

  Susan could tell by his reaction that he was only telling half of the truth. Either Jenny had meant more to him or there was more to the story, so she pushed on with more questions.

  “What about your mom?” Susan asked.

  “She would visit me here, but eventually she moved to Florida,” Tommy said.

  “So, looks like you might be going back for your friends. Good luck with that after eighteen years,” Susan said aggressively, still pissed that Tommy didn’t trust her earlier with this information.

  Tommy probably shouldn’t have been surprised by Susan’s reaction, but he was. After all, she had made it clear she didn’t want the baggage of an emotional relationship, and Tommy had always obliged.

  Susan pushed through the awkwardness of the conversation and wanted to know more. “How did your dad die?” she asked.

  “Suicide by attorney,” was Tommy’s monotone and emotionless

  response.

  “What?! What does that mean?” Susan was just a bit annoyed . . .

  again.

  “I can’t get into it right here, right now. I have to catch a train to Wisconsin,” Tommy just wanted to end the conversation at this point.

  “That’s a pretty big thing to leave hanging out there, don’t you think? Especially with me being an attorney . . .” Susan said.

  “Well don’t take it personall
y. I never held it against you,” Tommy said with a slight grin. “I’ll call you from the train to explain.”

  “Okay,” Susan said sadly, more troubled that Tommy never opened up to her than she was concerned about the details.

  Tommy was rarely perceptive to emotions, but felt the awkwardness and changed subjects. “Hey, thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”

  Susan forced a smile and glanced up at Tommy. “What good would that do?”

  Tommy smiled back, checked to make sure none of the other attorneys were looking, and softly kissed Susan on the lips before heading to Union Station. Tommy knew it was a strange time to face his hometown but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hoped Pat would be supportive. Tommy tracked down his number and texted him. He was hoping to get a ride from Milwaukee, the train’s last stop.

  Tommy stared out the train window as the northern Chicago suburbs gave way to Wisconsin farm fields. Although Tommy felt like McKinstry stole his firm, he knew this mess was partly his own fault. He should have been more careful. There was so much money flying around, he just ot caught up in it all.

  They kept identifying projects, paying a portion of the cost and turning them into credits—many of the projects would have gotten done anyway, but this way they created value for themselves. He knew, really, in the back of his mind that even the legitimate projects were a bit of a stretch, but who was he to judge? If someone wants to pay, no harm in that, he thought. That probably would have been fine if someone wasn’t faking projects, but who the hell was it? It had been so easy to make money . . . too easy. Tommy thought again about Jack, his old trading desk manager, and left him another voicemail regarding Big Mountain Traders.

  Tommy rested his chin on his hand and continued to stare out of the train’s window, observing the blurry line between the gray rock track bed and the long strands of yellow, and then just greening grasses that lined the route. He thought about how hard it was going to be to face Jenny and Pat. He had no decent excuse for shutting them out with all the other pain he was trying to leave behind when his dad died eighteen years before.

  Certainly, there would still be whispers from others around town when he showed up. Even with so much time passing, there would be people ready to gossip about why he had skipped his own father’s funeral, never to return. Tommy really didn’t care what those people thought then or now, for that matter, but hurting Pat and Jenny haunted him.

  After his dad’s suicide, he just couldn’t bring himself to face anyone. Tommy had said his goodbye to his dad the day before the funeral, but nothing in that moment provided any closure for him. He had taken some of the cremated remains in a margarine container and rowed his kayak a mile out in Lake Michigan. His dad had loved being on the lake as much as Tommy. He spread the ashes on that still and humid August day, watching some clump together and sink and others float off on the flat surface of the water. He wondered then, and still did now, why his dad had been so selfish.

  Tommy had been close to his dad; he was the stability in the family that countered his mom’s mood swings and erratic behavior. Even at twenty-two years old at the time of his dad’s death, Tommy still needed that stability and buffer from his mom. How could his father abandon him without even a word? Without at least a note to him personally?

  Tommy felt his dad had at least owed him that.

  It wasn’t that Tommy needed an explanation of the pressures he was under; he certainly understood that. His dad had a successful business manufacturing water filtration systems that were used mostly in remote areas with poor water quality. Tommy was proud of his dad for making something that helped people, and it provided very well for their family.

  All of that had changed when about 200 or so small children and elderly people got sick due to a strand of bacteria that made its way through some malfunctioning filter systems. His dad was hurt deeply by the news, but was thankful that no one had died. He was committed to put all of the company’s resources toward fixing the flawed systems and compensating the families that suffered due to the defect.

  That’s when Tommy first heard the words that he felt eventually killed his father—class action lawsuit. Instead of going down the path that he had originally planned, Tommy’s dad had to spend his days and money on and with attorneys fighting in court. He was going to do the right thing, but the attorneys were drumming up more plaintiffs and burying him in subpoenas and paperwork. The verdict in the case broke the company and his dad. Buried in debt and shame, Tommy’s dad saw no other way out.

  Tommy put the full blame of his death on the ambulance chasers, as his dad called them. They took a man who wanted to do the right thing, turned him upside down, and shook whatever they could out of him, which in the end was pretty much nothing. Other than attorneys, there were only losers. Although he blamed the class action attorneys for his dad’s death, Tommy never fully forgave his dad. He didn’t understand why he would take his own life. Why not just walk away from all the hurt and shame and humiliation, like Tommy did?

  The one-month trip to Europe that started the day of his dad’s funeral turned into eighteen years away from the place where he grew up. Each month that went by made it harder for Tommy to ever go back.

  Ironically, losing everything himself, like his father had done, was the thing bringing him back home. He wondered what waited for him a mere thirty-minute car ride north of the last train stop.

  Tommy was startled when the train was pulling into downtown Milwaukee. The last twenty miles of track and a couple of stops had gone by unnoticed. Tommy shuffled out of the terminal, ready to rent a car, but there was Pat waiting with boyish excitement, a smile, and a big bear hug. Pat finally set Tommy down and spoke first. “Dude, what has it been, like decades?! Finally making the trip home?”

  Pat was barrel-chested and solid. His skin was holding everything so tightly, you couldn’t tell what was muscle and what was fat. A light brown crew cut was coordinated with a mustache and goatee of the same color and length. His hairline and jubilant eyes had both endured the test of time. He wore jean shorts, a brown T-shirt and sandals, even though it was a cold spring day. “Hey, you’re looking . . . solid,” was the first thing Tommy could muster.

  “Still the diplomat,” Pat said sarcastically. His voice was naturally deep in tone but every word came out with a crisp and clear vibrance that matched his personality.

  “No, you look good. Happy. I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

  Tommy was truly glad to see his old friend. Really, he and Jenny were his only two true friends from high school and college that he had.

  Jenny and Pat had stayed close over the years, both living in town with Jenny stopping for dinner or to catch up with Pat and his wife Mary on a regular basis.

  “Good to see you! Let’s go. You can stay at my house,” Pat said.

  “Didn’t know if you’d be here,” Tommy said as they got into the car and headed north.

  “Are you kidding? I read about you in the paper. The darling of the environment falls on hard times, then I get your text. Way too interesting to turn down.” Pat paused. “Well, you know, I would have come anyway.”

  “I know. So, how’s your family? My mom mostly kept me informed, but I’m sure there’s more to tell. You have three kids, right? Tommy asked.

  “Yep. Been married eighteen years and have a son who’s seventeen and two daughters, sixteen and fourteen.”

  “Looking forward to seeing Mary. Does she know I’m coming?”

  “Of course! She’s always had a soft spot for my dark, brooding friend,” Pat said.

  Thirty minutes of catching up passed quickly as they headed north.

  Before Tommy knew it they were rolling down a steep hill into town; Lake Michigan was on their right, lit up by the afternoon sun. Pat took a quick left and then another into his driveway. Mary was in the kitchen when they arrived. A pot of soup was on the stove of their early 1900s Victorian. As Pat gave Mary a similar hug to the one Tommy
received at the station, he had the perspective of distance and a bit of time to take it in. Pat and Mary hugged and kissed like they hadn’t seen each other in days. For a minute, Tommy disappeared to them.

  He noticed Pat’s “thickness” included solid legs and calves. He had more the look of an immovable nose tackle than the wiry wrestler he first met in high school. His skin was spotted with faded freckles. Mary hadn’t changed much, particularly considering three kids and all the years. Dark, thick shoulder-length hair still framed a slightly round face that somehow fought off wrinkles. “Tommy, my tortured-soul brother!”

  Mary exclaimed. “How are you?”

  “I’m still overthinking everything. How are you?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Have my family and health and a roof. Don’t need any more than that,” Mary replied.

  Pat jumped in. “Tommy’s going to be staying for a few days. I think he needs a little time to figure out what’s next.”

  “Stay as long as you like. Dinner is in an hour and one of the girls’ bedrooms is ready for you.” Pat handed Tommy a beer without asking him if he wanted one. They passed the evening reminiscing. The kids floated in and out, doing homework, watching TV, and listening for embarrassing facts about their parents that they could use to their advantage later. They were perplexed that a man who was a stranger for their entire lives could be someone who their parents knew so well.

  Somehow, the kids felt like their parents hadn’t let them in on this big secret named Tommy. All six headed for bed early not knowing what would come next from Tommy’s visit.

  11

  Hometowns can be comforting or troubling; for Tommy, coming back was looking like both. The place he fled so long ago felt somehow more comfortable and approachable now. He got up and out of the house before anyone else was awake. Tommy walked down to the lake and watched a low foggy mist roll over and through the lighthouse arches. Before, the spring fog was ugly and worsened the depression he struggled with. Today, he had bigger worries than the sun not being out.