by Mike Faricy
As the sun began to set, I realized I’d forgotten to buy light bulbs. Shortly after that I was sitting in the dark, alone with my thoughts. No one whistled, made cat calls or sang. I was loving the peace and quiet.
I woke before sunrise, wide awake on the floor. I got up and felt my way to the bathroom. I showered in the dark then dripped dry looking out the window at the dumpster before I got dressed.
After a breakfast of another hot dog I walked two-and-a-half miles to the Ramsey County Courthouse. My apprehension grew as I approached. By the time I could see the twenty story building I was seriously considering turning around. Built in the midst of the great depression it served not only as the St. Paul Courthouse, but City Hall as well. Although my purpose was to simply apply for a driver’s license I was worried about who I might run into.
Chapter Three
I took the driver’s license test on a computer and in less than twenty minutes I managed to fail. Do you park ten, fifteen or twenty feet from a fire hydrant? Who cares? I know enough not to park in front of one. I guess the Minnesota Licensing Bureau cared more than me.
The clerk flashed a quick civil service smile from behind her bifocals then handed back my exam.
“Apparently we have some work to do. Here is your exam booklet, better study this. There is an online site listed on page three of your booklet. This will allow you to take a practice exam. You can sit for your next exam five days from now, that would be on the, let’s see, yes the twelfth. Questions?”
I felt like asking why the questions on the exam were so stupid.
“No, see you in five days, thank you.” I said then folded my exam in a half hearted attempt to disguise my failure and headed for the door.
The main lobby of the courthouse has floors of polished white marble and black marble piers rising up three stories to a gold leaf ceiling. I’d spent a good part of my previous life in here groveling and working various angles and schemes on behalf of clients. Back then I’d known all the nooks and crannies; which restrooms were empty and when. I had developed an internal radar that apprised me of when and where court was in session. I knew which deputies were friendly and which ones to stay clear of. I knew who liked bourbon, who like beer and who was a teetotaler. I knew a lot of the secrets and made up some of the lies. Now I was at best an outsider, a tourist, at worst, well let’s just not go there.
I caught myself staring up toward the ceiling, lost in vague memories, the hustle, the drama, the pressure, the…
“Nigel? Nigel, is that you?” As he inspected me his head moved up and down, audibly scraping his chins against the heavily starched collar.
“Hi, Ben, yeah it’s me.”
Bennett Hinz esquire. A prick if there ever was one. He’d been a year ahead of me in law school. Light years ahead of me in the scheme of life. On one side a family fortune he had nothing to do with other than inherit, on the other a bottomless trust fund. The sun seemed to rise and set on Bennett which probably accounted for the tan contrasting with his white shirt.
“When did you get back? Six years gone by that quickly?”
“I made it out in a little more than four,” I almost whispered.
“That-a-boy, can do. Fresh start, eh, Nigel,” he said, giving me a go-for-it sort of nod. It was one of the many negatives with Benny. Always sounding like Mr. Positive although I was pretty certain he’d never, ever had to deal with any adversity.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing, Ben starting fresh.”
He nodded as if he had some vague notion of what I was talking about. Then gave me the proverbial, “Great chatting, Nigel. I’d better get a move on, things to do, places to be, you remember what its like.”
“Nice seeing you, Ben.”
I watched him as he waddled a few steps, about to give him the finger behind his back when he turned and in a booming voice asked, “Say, Nigel, momentito. You’re not actually thinking of reapplying after your disbarment, are you?”
I thought, ‘thanks for broadcasting that little fact, Ben.’
“To the bar? No Ben, I don’t think that would be a wise career choice, at least at this time.”
He nodded knowingly then stepped a little closer. “Just wondering, my friend. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do? You know, employment, finances, the old jingo.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, raised his eyebrows.
I wanted to hit him.
“Working on it, but haven’t come up with anything definite yet, Ben. I’m exploring a number of opportunities.”
“Reason I ask is my firm just may have a need for someone like you.”
“Gee thanks, Ben. Since I was disbarred I don’t have a license to practice.”
“Oh, heavens Nigel, I wasn’t about to suggest you practice. Good Lord, they’re not crazy, hardly about to reinstate you.” He must have seen the humor before I did. He chuckled just loud enough so I’d hear.
“No, actually we might be able to use someone of your, oh ahhh talents, shall we say.” He chuckled again.
I wasn’t sure what the joke was.
“What, exactly, do you have lined up, Nigel?”
“Lined up?”
“For employment.”
“Actually that’s my next stop, start looking. I’ve got a number of people who want me to contact them. I was just planning to sort of catch my breath for a day or two, before I jumped in.”
He nodded like he didn’t believe me. “I see, I see, well look, when that falls through please consider us, might not hurt to stop by and just chat. Denton would be the man to talk to,” he said then produced a business card out of thin air and handed it to me.
Many thanks and don’t miss Corridor Man, due out in May of 2014.