[2013] Consequential Damages

by Joseph Hayes

  “I can't believe you know all these people,” she said.

  “It's a very close-knit neighborhood. Many of these people I've known since grade school. Most of those I didn't go to school with are brothers or sisters of my classmates. Large families are the norm here in Beverly—it’s the Irish Catholic influence, I guess. Even if you don’t know a particular person, chances are that you know someone in his family. Anyway, this is what people do to socialize on the weekends around here. I suppose it may seem a bit decadent if you're not used to it, but for many people here, this is a way of life.”

  “It doesn't strike me as decadent at all. Everyone seems friendly and well behaved. And they come here every weekend?”

  “More often than that, for some of them.”

  They found a table near the back and sat facing the door. “So tell me about Johnny,” Amanda asked.

  “Sure. He’s my cousin, and we’ve been best pals our entire lives. I’d have to say that, along with Mickey Quinn, Johnny is one of my real-life heroes. I’ve never met anyone that has such a way with people. He’s generous, outgoing, charming and friendly, with everybody. In high school, he was the ultimate jock and definitely part of the ‘in crowd,’ but he would go out of his way to be friendly to the kids that were quiet or nerdy or misfits for whatever reason. He has a way of always finding the good in somebody – even when it’s hard to find. I saw that long before high school. When we were eight or nine years old, a disabled kid moved into our neighborhood. He was in a wheelchair and had real difficulty talking. I was freaked out by this and tried to avoid him, but Johnny went out of his way to talk to the kid and treat him like anyone else. When we became teenagers, Johnny started going to a summer camp for kids with muscular dystrophy and other disabilities. I went to visit a few times and always felt uneasy around them. I know that sounds terrible, but I did. I had trouble understanding their speech and that embarrassed me. But Johnny was their best pal, totally at ease in that situation.”

  “So what’s he doing now?”

  “He could have done anything. He was the star of our high school football team and as smart as any kid in the class. He just wasn’t very motivated. He never studied, never cared about grades. He received a football scholarship to Wisconsin, but quit after two years. So now he’s a painter. Not the artist kind – he paints houses. Does a little carpentry and remodeling work, too. He works for himself, and that gives him the flexibility to do what he really loves, which is running a camp for disabled kids in the summertime, and spending a lot of weekend time doing similar things.”

  A tall, dark-haired young man in a white fishermen’s sweater walked in and looked around.

  “Let me guess. That must be your cousin.” As Amanda said that, he saw them, and waved.

  “Yep. That's Johnny.”

  “Jake! Hey everybody, Jake McShane is back in town!” Johnny shouted as he strode across the room. Shouts went up from the boisterous crowd.

  “Let's hear it for Jake!”

  “Here's to Jake!”

  “Beers are on Jake!”

  Johnny threw his arms around his cousin. “Great to see you, man! This must be Amanda. You're right, Jake, she's gorgeous!”

  “Hi Johnny.” Amanda extended her hand. Johnny shook it briefly, then embraced her in a bear hug as well.

  “I can't believe you brought her to a dive like this!” Johnny said. “Don't you have any class? Or brains? You'll probably never see her again after this kind of treatment.”

  Jake laughed. “You too? Colleen said the same thing.” Then looking at Amanda, he asked, “Am I in trouble?”

  “We'll see. The night is young yet. I'll withhold judgment for now.” Then, looking from one to the other she said, “Wow, you two really look like brothers. The family resemblance is striking.”

  Jake heard that frequently, and took it as a compliment, since Johnny was clearly a good-looking guy. He was tall, with a muscular build, and had the same distinctively Irish looking combination of fair skin, pale blue eyes and dark hair as Jake, only his hair was thick and curly, to the point of unruliness. He had an easy-going manner and an air of confidence about him.

  They spent some time catching up, Jake and Amanda briefing Johnny on their recent interviews, and Johnny explaining that life was pretty much the same for him. He was working as much or as little as he wanted and enjoying the free and easy single lifestyle. He dated a lot of girls, but none of them seriously, he assured them.

  Throughout the evening, old friends and acquaintances stopped by to chat. Jake was struck by how easily and gracefully Amanda fit in, even though, in his mind, she seemed totally out of place in a joint like Riley's. As the evening wore on, the crowd became louder and more boisterous, and it was clear that more than a few patrons had been overserved. Just as Jake was thinking it was about time to make a polite exit, a familiar face approached.

  “Hey McShane, I thought you moved to the land of fruits and nuts.” It was Danny Flynn, formerly one of the star athletes of their class, now an unemployed or sometimes employed truck driver, who spent most evenings cruising the bars on Western Avenue.

  “Hi Danny. How's it going?” Jake tried to be polite, but this was one fellow he generally tried to avoid.

  “Doing great, man. Partying all the time,” Danny replied, hoisting his beer mug. Then leering at Amanda, he slurred, “And who's this hot little number? Can I buy you a drink, babe?”

  Amanda was unfazed, and just smiled politely. “No, thank you.”

  “Amanda is a doctor, visiting from California,” said Johnny casually, attempting to ignore the boorish behavior.

  “No shit? I think I need a checkup. Wanna check me out, Doc?” Danny roared at his own attempt at humor.

  Jake stepped forward quickly and took Danny by the arm. “Come on, Danny, let's take a walk.”

  A sneer crossed Danny's face. Jake pointed to his beer mug. “You're empty. Let me buy you a refill.” He led Danny to the bar, ordered a drink for him, and then returned to Johnny and Amanda, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry about that. Danny's had a few too many. Don't take it personally. He's got a bit of a drinking problem.”

  Johnny was clearly incensed. “He's got a lot of problems, the biggest of which is that he’s a selfish, inconsiderate prick, pardon my language. He married Cory Miller, one of the sweetest girls in our class, and he treats her like dirt. She's at home with two little kids, and that scumbag is up here every night getting drunk. He’s just as mean and nasty when he's sober. That son of a bitch!”

  “Johnny and Cory were high school sweethearts,” Jake explained under his breath.

  “She doesn't deserve this,” Johnny said, still fuming. He took a deep breath, shook his head rapidly, and regained his composure. “I'm sorry, Amanda. I shouldn't let that guy get to me. It’s just part of our colorful life here on the South Side of Chicago.”

  It was well past midnight when Jake and Amanda decided to call it a night. Cold air blasted them as they stepped outside, and a light rain was beginning to fall. “Don't worry, it's a short walk,” Jake assured her as she looked up at the ashen sky.

  They walked briskly, hand-in-hand, heads down to avoid the bitter wind. Before they were halfway home, the skies opened.

  “Okay, maybe walking wasn't such a good idea,” Jake said. They ducked underneath a roof overhang protruding from a small garage, which provided adequate shelter from the rain, if not from the cold.

  “Welcome to Chicago,” Jake laughed, spreading his arms, palms up toward the sky.

  She laughed with him, and they quietly watched the rain, snuggling close together for warmth.

  “Well, what do you think? Of Chicago, I mean?” Jake looked at her seriously.

  “There's so much to see, and so much to learn. It's so different from what I'm used to.”

  “Good different or bad different?”

  “Neither. Just plain different.” There was less enthusiasm in her voice than Jake had hoped for. She looked like she wanted
to say more. Jake gave her a look, encouraging her to go on. “What if I really don't like it?” she asked. “What if I can't handle being this far from home? I know I'll miss my family terribly.” She looked troubled.

  Jake put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. His voice was soft, yet firm, as he said, “Then we'll move back to California.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we.”

  “But you’ll be starting your career here in Chicago. Your family is here, and all those friends that think so much of you. You belong here.”

  His gaze was steady, as he shook his head gently. “Amanda, I belong with you. I know we've only been together for a few months, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Wherever you go, that's where I want to be.”

  Amanda looked down. “Do you mean...”

  “I mean I want you in my life—always. I mean, I think we should get married. I don't know when or where. I haven't thought about the details. I hadn't even thought about bringing the subject up until just now. But I know it's right.” He paused, looking for a reaction. “What do you think?”

  She continued looking down, and Jake saw a tear roll down her cheek. She looked up at him, through watery eyes, and nodded her head, slowly at first and then vigorously, laughing and crying at the same time. She couldn't find words. She threw her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. “I love you so much,” she whispered in his ear, her tears wetting his cheek. “I can't wait to marry you!”

  Jake lifted her off the ground and twirled her in circles as they embraced. Their spinning took them out from under the overhang and rain poured down upon them. They kissed, a deep, long, passionate kiss, in the dark, pouring rain. Then they stepped back and looked at each other, hands clasped, smiling and laughing—joyous, unrestrained laughter, as the rain mixed with tears on their faces.

  “When should we tell people?” Jake asked, feeling giddy. “I don't think I can keep this bottled up inside.”

  “Let's figure that out tomorrow. We have a long plane ride back to California. We can talk it over then.”

  “We've got to tell somebody. I feel like I could burst. Let's go back to the bar and tell Johnny. Hell, let's have a glass of champagne!”

  “Don't you think we should tell our parents first?”

  “You're right, we should.” Jake knew she was right, but didn’t like the answer.

  “Would you trust Johnny with a secret like this?” Amanda asked, looking as if she, too, couldn’t wait to tell someone.

  “I’d trust him with my life.”

  “Then let's go.” She grabbed his hand and they marched purposefully back to the bar, making no attempt to shield themselves from the rain.

  “Jesus Christ, look at you two! You look like drowned rats,” Johnny shouted as they reentered the bar. “Did you forget something?”

  Jake and Amanda stood there dripping, hair matted, clothing completely soaked through. They were shivering. They said nothing and stared at Johnny, with enormous smiles on their faces.

  “What? You just found the winning lottery ticket? What's with you two?”

  They looked at each other. Then they looked back at Johnny, still smiling, but unspeaking.

  Understanding suddenly set in. “Holy Shit! You son of a bitch! How long have you been keeping this a secret? You're getting married, aren't you?”

  They nodded their heads, their giddiness returning. Johnny hugged them both—rough, affectionate, drunken hugs, and started to shout to the bartender for champagne. Jake cut him off. “We've only been engaged for ten minutes. Nobody knows except you. You're sworn to secrecy for now, got it?”

  “Got it, pal. This is fantastic! You two make such a great couple. I couldn't be happier for you!”

  “I'm the luckiest man alive, Johnny,” Jake gushed. “I really am.” And then looking at Amanda, he said softly, with wonder in his voice, “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with Amanda Chang.”

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER 16

  Grandmother Chang was right. Jake and Amanda were married the following summer. After finishing their final year at Stanford, they moved to Chicago, where Amanda began her fellowship at Northwestern and Jake began his legal career with Samuelson & Reid.

  Amanda threw herself into her work with her customary passion and enthusiasm, quickly making a name for herself in the Chicago medical community. Jake's work did not provide the same level of excitement or fulfillment. Samuelson & Reid handled sophisticated, high-stakes litigation and cutting-edge business transactions; however, as a new associate, Jake was typically the junior-most member of a small army of lawyers on any given project. His work consisted primarily of long hours of legal research, and drafting lengthy legal memoranda, briefs and pleadings. He recognized that was a necessary and unavoidable part of the career path at a major law firm, and took solace in the fact that he had the opportunity to work with, and learn from, the finest lawyers around.

  Their life outside of work as a young married couple was everything either of them could have hoped for, and they cherished their time together. Each took great interest in the other's professional life, and they shared their experiences, their thoughts and their hopes for the future. Life was good, and Jake was acutely aware of that. He often found himself gazing at his wife while she was sleeping, or at her desk reading, or walking toward him on the street, and saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

  Shortly after completing her fellowship, Amanda gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Anna, after Amanda's grandmother. Amanda took a leave of absence following Anna’s birth, and then returned to work three months later, on a reduced schedule. Fortunately, the hospital had an on-site day care center, which enabled Amanda to stop and visit Anna periodically throughout the day. Jake changed his hours to accommodate family life also. Although he had little flexibility regarding the amount of billable time he was required to log, he began arriving at work very early in the morning so that he could be home by early evening to spend time with his wife and daughter. It was a busy schedule, but they made it work. They were stressed, but happy.

  Sunday was family day. No matter what demands their careers placed on them, they made a point of treating Sunday as their own time. Most Sunday afternoons, they would try to enjoy one of the many sites and recreational opportunities the city had to offer. Sometimes it was a museum, sometimes a park or the zoo, and oftentimes it was the lakefront, their favorite destination. At least once a month, they had Sunday dinner at Jake’s parents’ house.

  Jake had settled into a routine at the office as well. He would generally arrive no later than seven o’clock in the morning, and try to leave before six o’clock in the evening. He made a point of leaving the office for an hour at lunchtime no matter how busy he was, to break up the long day.

  On a gray Thursday afternoon in early December, Jake returned to his office after his lunchtime break and was handed a stack of phone messages his secretary had taken while he was out. He recognized all of the names but one. “Darnell Tucker? Who’s he?” Jake asked Alice, his secretary.

  “I don’t know,” Alice replied. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was about.” Knowing Alice as he did, Jake was confident she would have politely pressed the caller for information. “He said it was important and sounded kind of upset. He wants you to call right away. He told me you might know him as Shooter. Seemed kind of strange.”

  Jake’s mood darkened. He hadn’t thought about Shooter in a long time. He walked slowly into his office, staring at the message. With considerable apprehension, he dialed the number.

  “Cook County lockup,” a brusque voice answered. It seemed more like an expression of annoyance than a greeting.

  “May I speak with Darnell Tucker, please?”

  “You his lawyer?”

  “I’m an attorney. I don’t know what this is about. I’m just returning his call. He called me about ten minutes ago.”

  “Hold on.”

>   Jake waited for several minutes, then he heard a familiar voice, but it was missing the cockiness that had accompanied it on past occasions.

  “That you, Stanford?”

  “Shooter?”

  “Yeah, man, it’s me. I’m in a jam. I need some help.”

  Jake glanced at his door, confirming that it was closed. He suspected that the partners at the firm would not look favorably on his association with someone they might perceive as a street thug. “You’re in jail?”

  “Yeah. Can you help me out?”

  Jake hesitated as he groped for a tactful way to avoid involvement. “Shooter, I’m not sure I’d be of much use to you. I don’t practice criminal law. You’d be better off with someone who really knows that stuff.”

  “Man, I don’t know any other lawyers,” Shooter replied, urgency in his voice. “You can handle this. It’s not a big deal. They charged me with possession, but the shit wasn’t even mine. I swear it. I just need to get out of here and then we can get this straightened out.”

  “Look, Shooter, I work for a big law firm. I don’t practice on my own. I don’t know if the firm would even allow me to handle your case. Besides, the rates here are really high. How about if I make some phone calls and try to find someone who’s better equipped to handle this, and a lot more affordable?”

  “Aw, come on man! You owe me!” Shooter was angry now and raising his voice. “Do you think you would have walked away from that playground if I hadn’t been there? No way! No way, man.” He stopped for a moment and regained his composure. “I’m sorry. I’ve got no right to talk to you like that. Can’t you at least come down here so we can talk? I’m asking you as a favor. Please, help me out, Stanford.”

  Jake paused, thinking it over. His instincts told him that getting involved would be a bad idea, but he was reluctant to turn his back on a desperate soul who was pleading for his help.