An Invisible Client

by Victor Methos

“Feeling’s got nothing to do with it; we gotta convince a jury. And that takes witnesses. Make a note to subpoena that guy.”

  Olivia and I drafted and sent a letter to Walcott, stating that we intended to file a claim. Two days later, his secretary called Jessica to set up a negotiation. Usually, we just spoke over the phone, but on large cases, the negotiation became a big deal. The plaintiffs would bring all their lawyers, and the defense would bring all theirs. Then we would meet on neutral ground. We would hash it out all day and see if we could reach a number both sides could live with. I’d once rented a restaurant that sat on the roof of a building in downtown Salt Lake, and we’d spent three days there, negotiating a medical malpractice case where the doctor, high on heroin, had inserted the wrong valve during a heart repair.

  The meeting with Walcott was set, and I rented the same restaurant. Because they couldn’t serve other customers while we were there, the price tag was steep but worth it. We would have seclusion, food, and drink, and Walcott would be impressed that I’d sprung for it. People tended to think others were serious about something if they spent more money on it.

  We headed up to the Gold Lion’s Restaurant and Grill. This time, I brought my entire team. There was no jury to be the underdog in front of. In negotiation, I wanted to be intimidating.

  A long conference table had been set up in the middle of the restaurant. The owner, a man named Jerry, said hello, and I ordered wine. Walcott didn’t drink during work hours, but I thought the mood might strike him. I could get a lot more out of him if he was drunk.

  Our firm’s attorneys took our places, and within minutes, Walcott’s people began to file in, lawyers all around. We had brought twelve, and they had thirteen. I texted the Commandant to get two more lawyers there immediately.

  I sat in the middle of the conference table, and Bob sat across from me. Everyone exchanged pleasantries—everyone except me and Bob. We both sat quietly and only occasionally made eye contact. We waited a solid ten minutes until the conversations died down. My two additional lawyers, two people from the family law section headed by Marty, had arrived. Marty sat on one side of me, and Raimi sat on the other. Olivia was farther down, but I could see her. One of the men on the other side of the table was flirting with her.

  “Shall we get started?” Bob asked.

  “Certainly.”

  Negotiations on a PI case at such an early stage were dangerous. Until we officially filed the complaint, the document initiating a lawsuit, we weren’t entitled to the evidence in the case. No depositions had been conducted, and no interrogatories—long legal questionnaires covering everything a lawyer could think to include—had been sent. But it worked in reverse, too: Bob didn’t know how much I knew. Both sides went into the first negotiation blind. It was a terrible way to settle cases, but I was willing to take less because I didn’t know the scope of the case, and the defense was willing to offer more because they didn’t know what I had.

  “What do you want, Noah?”

  “What would you like to give me, Bob?”

  We sat silently again, the lawyers around us not saying anything, for a long time. Finally, Raimi pulled out his figures.

  “The current medical costs for our client,” he said, “are one hundred seventy thousand and forty-two cents. This is purely special damages. General damages are estimated at three hundred and fifty thousand for pain, suffering, and emotional distress. Should the child die in the next three months, as his physicians predict, the suit would transfer to a wrongful death claim for the mother. We would at that point ask for two million, one hundred seventy-one thousand, and sixty-three cents.”

  “Sixty-three cents, huh?” Bob said with a smirk.

  “You know Raimi,” I said. “You ever know him to throw in numbers that haven’t been through at least a dozen calculations?”

  Bob raised his eyebrows. “So you want half a million dollars now to avoid a two-million-dollar lawsuit if the boy dies. Sounds like extortion to me, Noah.”

  I smiled. “I don’t want half a million dollars. Those numbers Raimi gave you, triple them. That’s how much I’m asking for. When I get that boy on the stand, no jury in the world is going to say no to me.”

  “I think you overestimate how much weight juries give to the testimony of plaintiffs. After we’re through painting his mother as a gold digger looking for a quick payday, you’d be lucky to get his medicals paid for. And that’s even if you somehow proved negligence on the part of my client, which I don’t think you can.”

  I leaned back in my seat. I looked over the faces of the lawyers seated across from me. These were the same lawyers who had denied me jobs, looked down on me because I hadn’t gone to the right schools, and felt that they were above me and above anybody who wasn’t like them.

  “I don’t need to win this case to ruin your client. I’ll scream negligent poisoning to the media every chance I get. Who is possibly going to buy a Pharma-K-brand medicine when there’s perfectly good alternatives from companies that haven’t been accused of poisoning their customers? Doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not. People just won’t risk buying your brand.”

  Bob looked over at Darren Rucker. The two exchanged glances but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s your final number?” Bob asked.

  “Three point five million is what I would normally ask for. But, because it’s early in the case, I’ll ask for half that. Consider also, Bob, that the other two kids who got sick from your client’s medicine haven’t approached our firm yet. When we get some media attention, maybe they’d like to join suit.”

  Bob exhaled through his nose and looked to Darren. “Give us a moment.”

  “Of course.”

  The two of them, along with three others from their side of the table, rose and went into a separate room of the restaurant.

  Raimi leaned over and said, “That’s too much. They won’t pay.”

  “They’ll pay.”

  “A child from a poor family doesn’t have earning capacity, Noah. They’re worth the least of any demographic. They’re invisible. Bob won’t pay, and we’ll have to litigate.”

  “He’ll pay. Watch.”

  A few people ordered drinks and appetizers. I rose from the table and wandered around. I found a balcony in a small room in the back and went outside. The sky was overcast, and a breeze was blowing. Rain wouldn’t be far behind. I stared out over the city I had promised myself I would conquer. It was growing so fast that if I didn’t stop to look at it sometimes, I wouldn’t recognize it the next time I did.

  “Noah,” Olivia said as she came up behind me, “they’re back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You okay?” she said, stepping out onto the balcony.

  “Yeah, fine. I was just thinking about something from a long time ago.”

  “What?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Tell me.”

  I turned toward her. “When I first moved to this city, I swore to myself I would own it one day. That I’d be a big shot. I was just thinking about what I was like then. So hungry. I would’ve stepped over corpses to get what I wanted. I don’t know if I’m like that anymore. You think the things we want just kind of fade over time?”

  “I don’t know. I know we have something inside us that doesn’t change. Not ever. Maybe you thought getting money and power was that thing for you, but you were wrong?”

  “Did you grow up very poor?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t really know anything else so it never bothered me much.”

  “I grew up so poor I’d be lucky most days to eat one meal. Sometimes I would have to go for two or three days without food. My shoes had so many holes in them it would’ve been just as easy to go barefoot. That kind of poverty . . . you know, people tell you when you get rich and you come from that, that it was necessary. That you wouldn’t ap
preciate what you have if you didn’t suffer first. It’s not true. Poverty cuts deep, and I don’t know if the pain ever leaves.”

  She placed her hand on my shoulder. I straightened up and said, “Let’s not keep his highness waiting.”

  I took my place at the table. Bob took his and straightened his tie. He looked at me and smiled before pouring himself a cup of water and taking a drink. He set the cup down.

  “That’s high,” Bob said. “But my client doesn’t want to drag this out, and they certainly would like to help the family of anyone hurt by their product. One million flat. Payable today with a gag order barring any discussion in any public forum.”

  Raimi wrote a note on the napkin in front of him that said, “Take it!”

  “I’ll discuss it with my client tonight. You’ll have our answer in the morning.”

  Bob rose and didn’t shake my hand. Some of the other lawyers followed suit, but some of them said good-bye. The one flirting with Olivia asked for her number, and she gave it to him. I turned away. Marty was right there, with a smile on his face.

  “I did not think they would offer that.”

  I shrugged. “They don’t want this in the news anymore.”

  Marty, the smile still on his face, said, “I think it’s time to ditch Penny and go out and get smashed with the boys. What do you two say?”

  I watched Olivia for a moment. “Lemme go to the hospital and tell them to take the offer first.”

  As I drove to the hospital, I thought about how I could’ve just texted Rebecca and told Bob right then whether we would accept the offer or not. But I wanted him to stew for the night. Let him try to soothe the nerves of Pharma-K and assure them that this would all be a memory soon. I wanted at least one night where I had the upper hand.

  Rebecca was in the ICU hallway, staring into the room. She was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “He just . . . he just . . .”

  She couldn’t speak. She threw her arms around me and sobbed.

  My heart dropped. I looked into the room and saw several doctors and nurses working on Joel.

  “He just stopped breathing,” she blurted through tears.

  We stood in the hallway for a while, until I could get her over to some chairs and sit her down. I then went to the nurses’ station and asked them what was going on. The nurse simply said they were doing everything they could.

  The door flew open, and they wheeled Joel out. Rebecca screamed. I could see him lying on the bed, but he didn’t look the way he had the last time I’d seen him. He was as white as a sheet of paper and sweating so profusely, it had soaked the pillow and his hospital gown. They wheeled him away, and Rebecca ran after him. A nurse gently took her arms and prevented her from following the crew. Joel was wheeled around the corner, then he was gone.

  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.”