by J J Miller
Two men were standing there, both wearing sleeveless leather jackets, jeans, and boots. One of them was huge. Six-six at least, with a torso that had the girth of a tree trunk. They made it clear they were watching me approach.
Adrenalin pumped fast through my body, sobering me up just a little. Not that I was kidding myself that I could fight my way out of trouble here.
As I got near, I nodded a greeting and reached for the door. The big biker stepped across to block my way. A waft of his acrid armpit musk hit my nose and his frame practically filled my vision. Greasy long hair was parted at the side, revealing a broad brow that was furrowed with scorn.
“You the lawyer Madison?” he said in a soft rumble.
I cast a quick glance at his sidekick, a wiry, wary-looking specimen who wore his beard in a long plat beneath an almost glowing white, shaved scalp.
I could tell by their colors that they belonged to the Iron Raiders. My mind flicked through my most recent cases in an effort to unearth anything I’d had to do with outlaw motorcycle gangs. I came up with nothing. Over the years, I’d defended a few bikers and to some extent I was familiar with the way they did business. They hardly ever relied on phones to send a message. They favored having a couple of brothers deliver the memo in person. It was never a cheerful encounter. Even to pay my fees, they could pull a stunt like this, showing up at two in the morning to hand over a few grand for services rendered. But I had the feeling that these guys had not come to line my pockets. I’d never represented an Iron Raider, so the best I could hope for was that they were here to ask for my help.
Turns out I was right. In a sense.
“Yes, I am. What can I do for you guys?”
The stinking bear had yet to blink, and he looked through me with an implacable expression devoid of mercy. It was as though I’d somehow insulted his mother and he was just taking a moment to decide just how he was going to dismember me. Then, quicker than lighting, he shot his right fist into my solar plexus. It was like a battering ram. My feet just about left the ground with the force of the impact. I staggered back a little before crumpling down to the pavement, somehow managing to clutch my bag of groceries as I went.
For a few seconds I struggled to breathe. But the blow didn’t just wind me, it created a terrible force in my stomach. Within seconds I was ejecting a full belly of Chinese food and booze onto the concrete.
“What the fuck!” I said after I was done wiping my mouth. “What the fuck do you want?”
The Bear dropped to one knee. He then dropped the other onto my neck. My attempts to regain my breath were now blocked.
He put some weight into his knee. The blood pressure in my face reached the point of searing pain.
“Now you listen to me, lawyer man. And you listen good. You stay clear of Chip Bowman, you hear?”
“I don’t know a Chip Bowman, you fuck,” I squeezed out.
He jabbed his knee harder into my neck.
“You better watch your mouth, cocksucker. Just tell me you understand. You are not going to defend Chip Bowman under any circumstances. You stay the fuck away from him. Got it?”
With a two-hundred-pound biker leaning his whole bodyweight into my neck, I lost the wherewithal to reply at all. The Bear sensed that and backed off to give me some air.
I sucked a few quick breaths into my lungs before replying with haste. “I got it. I don’t defend Chip Bowman.”
“Good.”
With that, the biker released his knee and he and his sidekick walked slowly over to their Harleys. The Bear straddled his bike and watched me get to my feet. He kicked his machine to life.
“You do anything for that prick, lawyer man,” he shouted over the engine noise, “and I’m going to break every fucking bone in your body.”
With that, they roared off.
All I could think was, Who the fuck is this Chip Bowman?
Chapter 5
I was woken at God knows what time by the ringing of my phone. I picked it up and saw it was Claire, my ex-wife. Although it’s been years since we split, seeing her name on the screen at odd hours still stirred up a stock response: I’ve screwed up somehow.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi Brad. I woke you. I’m sorry,” she sounded genuinely apologetic. “I take it you didn’t get my message.”
“What message?”
“Damn. I’m so sorry. I tried to reach you last night.” The slightly beseeching tone in her voice told me I hadn’t screwed up, even by missing her call. “Listen, this is so last-minute. Something’s come up and I have to head out to Palm Springs for work. I was wondering if Bella could spend a few days with you.”
I sat myself up in bed. A pain in my stomach made me grimace and I was reminded of the lovely reception I’d gotten from my Iron Raider friends.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. My head hurts a little. That’s all.”
“You had a big night?”
“Kind of.”
“How big?” Claire asked warily. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst. She’d seen me leave a trail of destruction several times during our marriage. Mostly it was down to a PTSD episode, which would occasionally spiral into an alcoholic binge.
“I just caught up with an old buddy of mine, but it wasn’t over the top. If you called, I just didn’t notice.”
“That’s okay. But here’s the thing. I’m downstairs with Bella. Can she stay with you?”
“What? You’re downstairs?”
“Please, Brad.”
“Yeah, of course she can stay,” I said, getting off the bed and biting down on the pain in my gut. “Come up. I’ll buzz you in.”
I reached the kitchen and pressed the button to open the security door. Through her phone, I heard the door unlock and Claire open it. “See you in a bit.”
As I spoke, I smelled vomit on my breath. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and ran wet hands through my hair. Back in the bedroom, I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. I was feeling awake now and surprisingly sober. That fat biker did me a small favor emptying my gut of booze. The place where his fist landed burned when I stood tall, but it was nothing debilitating. My neck, though, felt stiff and sore. I quickly massaged some of the pain out as I moved to the kitchen and make some coffee.
It was only then that I looked at my watch, realizing I had no idea what time it was. It was just after seven.
The buzzer sounded and I went to the door.
There was a time when Bella would launch herself at me at first sight. She was a little older now, a little cooler, but her smile upon seeing me was something to treasure.
Looking relieved, Claire gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as I drew Bella in for a hug and stepped into my apartment. She couldn’t help but cast an eye over the place but cut it short to explain herself.
“Thanks for this, Brad. We’re shooting a multi—platform campaign in Palm Springs, and it’s starting to go sideways. I need to get there ASAP.”
Just before we got divorced, Claire founded a jewelry enterprise that proved to be incredibly successful. “Claire Hall” (her maiden name) was now one of the biggest jewelry brands in the US.
“I got it,” I said. “But I want it on the record that I’m doing this under duress,” I said, giving Bella a squeeze that triggered a giggle. “I don’t know who this young woman is or what she thinks she’s doing here, but I’ll just have to go along with it. But any nonsense and I’ll be taking her straight to the authorities.”
I bent over and kissed the top of Bella’s head.
“Have you had breakfast? You hungry?” I asked her.
Bella nodded.
“Go grab some juice while I talk to Mom. Then we’ll make pancakes.”
Bella skipped off to the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” I asked Claire.
“One of the models has gone postal. Seems the photographer was screwing her and she just found out he’s also screwin
g her best friend. The hotel had to call security on her, and now we’re rushing to get a replacement and… do you really want to know all this?”
I shook my head with a smile. “No.”
“I’m going to have to stay there for three days, and Bella’s got school tomorrow. You okay with that?”
“Of course. Where’s Marty?”
Marty was Claire’s husband, and Bella’s step-dad. He seemed an okay guy. He was good with Bella and never seemed inclined to over-step his role. He and Bella got along but were not tight, and Marty left all the parenting decisions in their house to Claire. He was aloof toward me, and I felt he was a bit of a try-hard. But he did well for himself working for a big finance company that seemed to have a hand in everything from Hollywood movies to renewable energy. Call me cynical, but he seemed a bit dull for Claire, as though she’d opted for a safe harbor after her tumultuous experience with me.
“He’s away.”
“Let me guess. Golf?”
Marty appeared to do a lot of business on the golf course. During one brief conversation I had with him, he let it slip he played off a handicap of two and had considered going pro when he was younger.
“Pebble Beach. It’s his annual trip. Left yesterday and won’t be back for a week.”
“Okay. No worries.”
On paper, our custody arrangement was clear. I got Bella every second weekend. Claire was flexible, though, so I also got to take Bella on ski trips or up to Boise to visit my folks.
“Thanks, Brad. She’s excited.”
“Can’t see why.”
“Ha,” Claire smiled. “She loves every minute she spends with you,” she said and looked at her watch. “I gotta go.” Claire then turned back to me with a caring look and touched my arm. “You okay?”
She didn’t have to say that I looked rough.
“I’m fine. Just a bit hungover.”
“A few drinks with a Marine buddy, you say? Are you sure it wasn’t a big date with someone special?”
Claire couldn’t resist the temptation to tease me, and to pry a little at the same time. Everyone was on my case about “finding someone.” Even my ex-wife.
“Yes. His name’s Pete Chang and we’re very much in love.”
Claire laughed. “Whatever happened to Jessica?”
“She’s in DC. And she’s counsel for the President.”
“The President?”
“Yep, she’s spending a lot of time in the White House. And she’s now married to Senator Ryan Fielding.”
“The Republican from Florida?”
“That’s the one.”
“That’s a shame. I thought you really liked her.”
“I did. That’s why she left,” I joked.
Claire looked like she felt sorry for me. “You’ll meet someone. If you’ll only let them in. Hell, you’re one of the hottest forty-something men in LA. Don’t tell Marty I said that. Take care, Brad.”
Claire walked to the kitchen to kiss Bella goodbye before returning to the door.
“Good luck with the shoot,” I said.
I saw Claire out then went back to join Bella. “Okay,” I called out as I approached the kitchen. “Pancakes it is. Right, let’s get the ingredients.”
“I’m way ahead of you,” said Bella, stepping aside and waving her hand over the flour, sugar, baking powder, egg, milk, mixing bowl, utensils, and measuring cup that she’d set out on the bench.
“You go sit down, Dad. I can manage,” said Bella as she began scooping flour into the bowl. I watched her for a moment, marveling at my beautiful daughter.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked.
Bella didn’t look up from what she was doing. “Don’t know. I’m easy.”
We hung out down at Santa Monica. Went ice skating. Saw a movie. Walked down to the pier. Then had an early dinner.
It was a perfect date with the perfect girl.
Chapter 6
I was surprised to find Megan Schaffer busy at her desk when Bella and I arrived at the office on Monday. It was just after seven-thirty. Normally, she would not have appeared for another hour.
When I raised a “what are you doing here?” eyebrow, she folded her arms and returned my expression with playful exaggeration. “The Lindstrom case?” she posed in an effort to jog my memory. “You said I could leave early Friday so long as I got the brief ready first thing Monday. So here I am. And here it is. And my goodness, good morning gorgeous Bella. What a lovely surprise.”
Megan got to her feet, pushed the file into my stomach, and embraced Bella warmly. Megan and Bella were very fond of each other. I’d given Bella the option of us staying at my place or hanging at the office before school, and she choose the latter on account of Megan.
“Thank you,” I said to Megan. “You didn’t have to get here this early. How’d the move go?”
“Great,” Megan said. “I mean, a lot of packing and unpacking but I got it all done, and now it feels like home. My home.” She bounced a little and addressed Bella. “I just bought a condo. A very small condo. But it’s mine.”
This was a huge step for Megan. I valued her for many reasons, such as her intelligence, humor, and charm, but I was particularly grateful for the loyalty she’d shown me. When I decided to relocate from Downtown to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, the move added forty minutes to Megan’s commute. Now, as the proud owner of a one-bedder on Stanforth Street, she could get from door to door in less than twenty minutes.
“Glad to hear it, Megan. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Let’s not pretend I could have bought a condo without those bonuses you gave me.”
“Bonuses you earned,” I said. “And then saved, and then spent wisely.”
“How long are you staying with Dad?” Megan asked Bella.
“A few nights,” Bella beamed.
“Have you had breakfast?”
“No, Dad said we could get breakfast burritos.”
Megan turned to me. “Why don’t I take the lovely Bella with me to get us some food?”
“Great idea. I’ll have coffee and one of those burritos too.” I raised the Lindstrom file. “And thanks for this.”
As Megan and Bella left, I walked into my office with my nose buried in the file. Nina Lindstrom was a friend of Claire’s who was going through a bitter divorce. Claire recommended me not just for my abilities as a lawyer, she knew I’d be silly to turn down the potential money on offer. Nina and her soon-to-be-ex-husband Eric were at war with each other. I’d been trying to get the most basic terms of a settlement down but it was proving damn near impossible.
I walked into my office and sat at my desk. I liked my new office. It was close to home, close to Bella and close to the beach. In summer, I could get in an early surf and maybe one at lunch during winter, if the waves were inviting enough. Calling my own hours was one perk of practicing solo that I made full use of. I’d once entertained the idea of returning to a big law firm but that was never going to happen now.
My office was on the fifth floor of a ten-story building that housed a variety of small businesses and interests. I say interests because directly above me was the office of none other than Wesley Brenner, a Republican vying for election to the Californian State Senate. Brenner, a former pro wrestler, was used to drawing all sorts of attention to himself, and on several occasions I’d had to work my way through a media scrum to get into my building because he was holding court in the mall.
I wouldn’t say I was repulsed by Brenner’s politics. It was his boisterous, bullying persona that rubbed me the wrong way. He was a big, tall man with a bald head, silver goatee, and a diehard propensity to behave as if the cameras were always rolling. To avoid being caught with him in the elevator was the main reason I often took the stairs. In recent weeks he’d launched his own podcast, which he recorded in his office that sat directly above mine. I knew this not because I listened to his show but because I’d hear him sharing the subject of each e
pisode with anyone he managed to corner.
After I’d digested the Lindstrom file, I found myself wondering how the hell two people who had once walked down the aisle and professed undying love for each other could become such bitter enemies. It made me thankful that Claire and I were on good terms.
I heard my door open and saw Megan enter holding my coffee in one hand and my burrito in the other. She quickly closed the door with her foot and stared at me with a puzzled look.
“What is it, Megan?”
“You’ve got a walk in.”
“What?” I looked at my watch. “It’s five past eight. I don’t have time. I have to get Bella to school and I told Nina Lindstrom I’d be at her house by ten.”
“He looks desperate.”
“Where’s Bella?”
“She’s fine. She’s in the conference room.”
“Good,” I said. I pulled up the front desk security camera on my computer. I’d had my fair share of crazies barge into my office, or at least try to. The man was sitting on one of the waiting room chairs, switching his gaze from my door to the elevator. I didn’t recognize him at all.
“He’s not scary desperate, Mr. Madison. Just anxious, as far as I can tell. He practically begged me to let him see you immediately.”
I really didn’t have the time. “Megan, can you please just get this guy to make an appointment?”
“He said it was a matter of life and death.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Of course, it is. Did he give you a name?”
“Yes, he did. Chip Bowman.”
Chapter 7
I sprang to my feet and, after Megan had stepped aside, whipped the door open and walked out.
Upon seeing me, the visitor got to his feet, albeit with some difficulty. He placed his hands on his right thigh and winced as he rose. He was mild, inoffensive looking man in his mid-thirties. Beneath a black Orioles cap was a thin face that bore a worn-out expression. There were bags under his eyes, and his pallid skin had sprung a few days of light brown stubble. He looked like he kept himself very fit. The short-sleeved checked shirt he wore was tucked into beige chinos, and nothing hung over his woven leather belt.