Aid
Angela bopped her way into the lobby of the Nomadic Arms Apartments.
"Hey, Angie!" It was the apartment manager.
She'd told him not to call her that. But after her meeting with Miguel she was in too good a mood to give him any crap over it.
"What?"
"Message for you."
Was it...?
"Mr. Truman."
It was! Jason Truman, her very own legal eagle, her procedural knight in shining armor. And the man who was currently covering most of her expenses until her housing woes were sorted out.
The girl bounded over to the counter; the manager raised an eyebrow. "Here."
Just his name and number.
Did he have good news?
Angela ran back to her apartment to find out.
"Well, I have good news and bad news." Delivered in Jason Truman, Esq.'s trademark hurry-up-and-relax style.
"Okay..."
"Bad news first." Truman wasn't the kind of man who gave you a choice. "You're not the only one with a claim on your mother's assets."
The news hit Angela like a bomb. She was the last of the Barrett clan. "I don't understand."
"You have an aunt? Constance March?"
"Constance. Y-yeah..." Angela struggled to string the relationship together. "My mom's brother's wife. Ex-wife," she amended.
Constance was her late uncle's way ex wife. They'd divorced when Angela was very young, and it hadn't been pretty. Angela's mom used to call her the "wicked witch of the East" -- when she mentioned her at all, which had been maybe like five times, ever. To Angela, Constance was just a cloudy bit of ancient Barrett family history. Frankly, Angela had completely forgotten the woman.
Truman continued. "She says she's entitled to part of the house. You should have told me about her, it would have made things a lot easier. Now it looks like we're trying to hide something."
Angela was testy. "I'm not hiding anything. I haven't seen her since I was... like, five years old. I barely even remember her. What does she have to do with the house?"
"She says she helped your mom and dad buy it. Says she has a contract, gives her 25% of the house in exchange for the down payment she gave them."
Angela felt ill. Was there any truth to this? She struggled to remember everything anyone had ever said about Constance. Her mom said Constance had married Uncle Arthur on his 18th birthday, and left him ten years later for a younger man. She'd moved back East and was never heard from again. Not even at Uncle Arthur's funeral back in January -- she didn't show, and the eulogy didn't mention her. That was about it. In all the times her uncle had come to visit, he'd never spoken of his marriage, except once when he'd slipped and referred to it as his "deal with the devil come due." Angela thought the description particularly appropriate now.
"Hello? You still with me?"
"Yeah. I'm just having a hard time with it." Angela was surprised at the strength of her reaction to this development -- the Xanax mostly nuked everything else, why couldn't it give Constance the smackdown? Angela took a sharp breath and then let out a great sigh; it staved off the shakiness that had threatened her voice. "What does it mean?"
"The short answer? It's going to take longer. The judge will look at a lot of things a lot more closely."
"Oh." Angela couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice.
"Hey, don't get down. I told you this could take a while. It's a messy business."
"I'm sorry... I feel bad, causing you all this trouble and work for nothing."
"Hush now. I told you, a little pro bono work is good for the soul. Your case just happens to be *really* good for the soul. So you ready for the good news?"
"I guess." No news could be good enough to pull her out of the funk the news of her aunt had put her in.
"I got you new digs. A one-bedroom at The Willows. I just faxed the lease back up there a few minutes ago."
The Willows! That sounded nice! Of course, Angela thought as her eye wandered about the dilapidated by-the-week studio apartment, anything was nicer than this.
"When can I move in?"
"This afternoon, if you like. I'm afraid I can't get anyone to help you until tomorrow, but-"
"That's okay! I can handle it myself, I don't have much."
"Ohp, that's my other line, hang on a second. [click] Hello, Britney?"
"No, it's still me."
"Shoot. Sorry, Angela. Hold on."
Angela heard the click and silent hum of being on hold.
A few minutes later, Truman was back.
"Angela?"
"Yeah, that's me!"
"Huh... I swear, I'll never figure out this new phone system. So, where were we?"
"You were telling me who Britney is. Is it *that* Britney?"
Truman chuckled. "You know I can't tell you that, any more than I can tell the princess of pop who *you* are."
Angela panicked a beat -- but Truman didn't know that Angela Barrett was also Sapphire, superheroine extraordinaire.
Still, she was in heady company...
"So that's it. Get in touch with Bob over at the new place before 5. And keep your chin up on the job hunt, okay? I'm sure a smart girl like you will find something in no time."
"I hope you're right, Mr. Truman."
"I'm always right." The man had an ego -- and the stuff to back it up. "I'll call you when I have news." The phone clicked abruptly.
Angela's disappointment and frustration were tempered by relief and excitement. She was so lucky to have the great Jason Truman, Esq. in her corner! If it weren't for him, she would be up to her neck in legal mumbo-jumbo, just ripe for someone to take advantage. In fact, she remembered, someone had tried just that. Using her naivete against her, that weasel at the insurance company had almost convinced her to... oooh, it made her mad just thinking about it!
But Truman, a man she learned later was a famous Southern California attorney specializing in real estate and family law, just happened to overhear her plight. The gods had certainly been smiling on her that day . . .
< < Friday. The store was totally dead, but the manager still had two girls scheduled to work. Truth be told, it'd been dead all week. And it had never been all that lively since Angela'd started working there. She was surprised a place so slow would stay open.
But she was glad for the hours, especially with the big bill she had hanging over her head. Mr. Aquino said it was okay, and just to pay him what she could, but she remembered the look on his face when he first saw the receipts... Heck, replacing a whole wardrobe adds up fast, even getting just the bare necessities.
Well, mostly just the bare necessities, Angela thought as she looked at the cute ankle boots on her feet. And maybe not so many skirts. (But Twenty-One had that Buy One Get One Half Off sale!) Then there was the lingerie... technically she could have saved some money getting plain cotton underwear, but who wanted to dress like a little girl? (Or an old woman?)
Angela calculated the number of hours it would take to pay him back, and it just depressed her.
Then there was the house. What a nightmare! All those forms, that mean woman down at the county offices... she had to wait for probate, and who knew how long that would take? Months, the way it was going. Just two days ago, she'd spent two whole hours waiting in the lobby of the judge's office, only to find out the initial hearing was scheduled for October 9th, not September 10th! How was she supposed to know the clerk who wrote it down for her was from Europe? Why did they have to write their dates backwards anyway? And if someone like that was gonna work in a job like that, she should write things in American. Angela had half a mind to call the judge and complain...
"Hey." The voice interrupted Angela's stormy musings belonged to Jenny, the other girl working today, and the only other one on the payroll under thirty. "I need a break from counting. I'm gonna go get a smoothie. Come with?"
"Somebody has to watch the store."
"There's nobody here. We can watch it from next door. Come on."
"Excuse me, is the fabric store open?"
Jenny gave Angela an I'll-handle-it look. "Yes, ma'am." She trotted off.
Jenny must have ordered the world's most complicated smoothie, because the stubble-faced guy behind the counter had been carrying the blender mug back and forth for over five minutes now, picking over ingredients, occasionally tossing one into the mug, wearing an ultra-serious look on his face. Angela wondered if maybe this was some kind of "special" smoothie, a secret arrangement between Jenny and Smoothie Guy.
A bored Angela turned to look out over the mostly-empty parking lot. There was a stretch limo parked across several spaces in the middle of the lot. A man in a black suit was struggling to get the spare tire out of the trunk.
"Look, the house is condemned. Where's she supposed to live? How's she supposed to live?"
The stern voice came from a man in a suit -- a very expensive suit -- sitting on a stool in the corner. He seemed to be splitting his time between his cell phone conversation and running through a series of exasperated looks and gestures directed aimed at the hapless limo driver.
"Yeah, yeah, the court blames the adjuster, the adjuster blames the court. In the meantime this poor woman and her son are living in a God-damned Pinto!" His voice boomed at the peak of a tightly-controlled crescendo. His diction matched his attire in its sharpness. As he listened to what must have been feeble explanations on the other end, he took a moment to flash a big white-toothed smile at Angela; she smiled politely in return.
"When did the judge say he'd issue his decision? [pause] That's not good enough! Fucking bastard... [pause] Okay, Tim, look, I promised Mrs. Ramirez I'd take care of her, and I'm a man of my word. Send the car over to pick her up after work, and put her up at the Ramada. [pause] What do you mean, who's going to pay for it? I'm gonna pay for it..."
Jenny's smoothie was now on the counter; Smoothie Guy turned to the simpler task of grinding out Angela's Blueberry Orange VitaBomb.
Angela got a tap on her shoulder from her co-worker. "Hey, I finished inventory, so I'm outta here. And you gotta call." Jenny jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the fabric store.
"Who from?"
"Some guy from some insurance company. Says it's important. He's on hold."
Angela left her smoothie-in-progress to take the call.
"Hello?"
"Angela Barrett please."
"This is her."
"This is Marty Harrison in Claims Auditing over at Acquisitional Advantage Mutual -- your mom had a policy on her home with us?"
"Yes..."
"I know the property is entering Probate. Technically I shouldn't even be calling you, but I thought you should know."
"Know what?"
"Well, your mom was three months late on the premium. According to the policy terms and conditions, it should have been automatically cancelled the week before the incident, but there was some kind of glitch and the notice never got printed. It came across my desk in an audit this morning."
Angela felt the room spinning; she leaned against the counter to steady herself.
The voice on the other end of the phone continued. "I'm supposed to track through all the problem payments to see if they match up, and if nothing matches, I'm required to terminate the policy."
"I see." Angela swallowed hard.
"Well, I read about you in the paper. I feel awful, just *awful*. I mean, you've already been through so much, and now this... I have to say, it sucks to have to be the one to tell you like this, but..." He let the word hang out there, prompting the unspoken question, But What? "...but I was thinking, I'm supposed to look for stray payments. If one were to show up this afternoon, who's to say how it got here, or when? Who can prove it came from a beautiful young woman who dropped by my office to curry a little favor? Who's to say it wasn't misplaced by a clerk and just now turned up?"
He continued. "But I have to have the check today. And it can't bounce -- I'm really sticking my neck out for you here. I've got something else I'd like to stick out for you too. So, you think you can... *handle* it?"
Angela covered her face with her free hand. She couldn't believe this was happening. This man was blackmailing her for... her whole body shuddered at the thought. It was Josh all over again.
Someone entered the store, talking loudly. Angela looked up -- the rich guy from next door, the one with the broken limo. He had something in his hand. A smoothie.
"You forgot this," he said, putting the drink on the counter before resuming his conversation. "Yeah, I know, I ran late and there was a problem with the limo, but he should have the spare put on in a couple of minutes and we should just make the last flight out tonight."
Angela just stood there, in shock. She was vaguely aware of a tear sliding down her cheek.
The man in the expensive suit noticed her crying. "Hold on a sec," he said to the phone. To Angela: "You okay? What's wrong?" Angela's lip was quivering; the last thing she needed was the whole world hearing about this.
The insurance auditor on the other end of her phone prodded her. "You still there?"
Angela turned around, lowering her voice. "Yes, I'm still here. I don't have the money right now; isn't there some kind of grace period? [pause] I-I might be able to get the money tomorrow, can you just please give me until tomorrow? [pause] B-but if you cancel the policy, I won't... I mean, I can't afford to... [crying] but that was my house! Where am I going to live? You can't do this to me, please. Just give me a little more time... [pause] please... [pause] Isn't there anything you can do? Please, I'm begging you... [pause] please... [sniffle] Okay. I'm sorry. I can't... yes, I understand. Yes, thank you." Angela looked crushed, collapsing to the floor in sobs.
"Hey, hey..." The man rushed around the counter to console her. He kneeled next to her, taking her hand and bidding her to get up off the floor. "Whatever it is I'm sure it'll work out," he said with confidence.
"No it won't," Angela sobbed. "The man said if I didn't get the money by closing today they have to cancel the policy an' then everything's gone and I don't know what I'm gonna do..."
"Maybe I can help."
"What can you do, mister? I have to come up with 2600 dollars that I don't have!"
"My, that's a lot of money. Is there anyone who can lend it to you?"
"No..."
"How about your parents? Any other family? Friends maybe?"
"Even if I could, I only have an hour to get it there and it's all the way across town. And then he said he'd only take it if I... If I would... do something for him. Ohmygod I'm gonna lose the house! Oh mom... why didn't you tell me we were in trouble?"
The man seemed to miss the prurient part of the insurance auditor's demands. "They can't take your house just because you're behind on the insurance; you can always get another policy."
"You don't understand; the house got blown up; if they cancel then it won't get rebuilt..."
"Yes it will; that man is lying to you. They can't cancel you like that, not retroactively."
"But he said..."
"Trust me, I know a little bit about this. You're not going to lose your house. Er, I mean, the value of your house. Blown up did you say?"
"[sniffle] Yeah..."
"Oh dear... I heard about you. Your mom was killed in a drug turf war, and they blew up your house, right?" At that, Angela began crying again. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... that is... I'm sorry." His hands gently held her upper arms, willing her to calm down. "Anyway, that man is trying to take advantage of you. I've seen it before. It's truly a red-letter day for scum, isn't it? Well, I'm not going to lose two in one day. Which insurance company?"
In a flash, he was on the phone. "Oak Valley. Acquisitional Advantage Mutual." He waited for the connection. "Yes, I'd like to speak to..." He looked down at Angela, moving the phone slightly away from his mouth to ask her, "Did you get his name? Oh don't worry, that's all right..." He spoke back into the phone. "I'd like to speak to the adjustor handling the..." He paused again; he didn't know her name. "(What's your name?)"
"Angela."
"(No, dear, your last name.)"
"Barrett."
Back to the phone. "...handling the Barrett case... No, I don't have the case number... This is her attorney." Dramatic pause. "Truman. Jason Truman."
He mouthed "Watch This" and winked at Angela.
"Yes, with whom am I speaking? Mr. Harrison, this is Jason Truman. I just got a very disturbing phone call from my client... Miss Angela Barrett. She tells me that you threatened to cancel her policy and refuse her claim if she didn't bring you a substantial sum of money by the end of the day. [pause] Are you calling my client a liar? Are you calling *me* a liar? [pause] Twenty-six hundred dollars... [pause] Are you aware that it's against the law in California to retroactively cancel a policy in light of a claim, even if the policy is unpaid? Of course you are; so why did you threaten my client with exactly that? [pause] I see, a misunderstanding. Yes, well, perhaps we'll understand each other better in court."
He raised his eyebrows at Angela. Apparently the insurance man was backing off. "Well then, what do you propose? [pause] And you think this is reasonable, considering that it's already 1:26pm, and this young woman has no car, and your offices are twenty miles away... [pause] Yes, I do. You will have the outstanding balance by tomorrow noon-" Truman brushed off Angela's wide-eyed worry, "and Miss Barrett's claim will receive priority attention to be resolved as quickly as possible. And I will convince Miss Barrett that it is not in her best interest to sue your company for extortion. And you will get to keep your job."
Truman paused for dramatic effect.
"Yes, I think Miss Barrett can personally deliver..." Truman looked Angela up and down, then his expression turned cross. Now he understood the other half of the bargain, and he wasn't having any of it. "No, on second thought, Miss Barrett will not be available; the payment will arrive by courier. [pause] Good day, sir. And I look forward to working with you." Click.
Truman's smile could not be dislodged by Angela's panicked look.
"Where am I going to get that kind of money?" she pleaded.
"I thought you said you had a friend who could loan it to you."
"Well, my boyfriend's dad, but I don't think he can. And even so, it might take him a couple of days. You shouldn't have told him tomorrow at noon. What am I gonna do?"
"Relax; even if you can't come up with the money, all they can do is cancel the policy, and depending upon how it's written reduce the settlement by the outstanding amount. And if I recall, there isn't much left on the lot worth protecting, is there? The point is, now he knows he can't walk all over you. He's not going to try any funny business."
Angela breathed a little easier. If she'd known that about how the policy worked earlier, Truman's victorious attitude would have made more sense.
Truman continued. "Although, realistically, once they find out they're not getting the back premium, they'll probably drag their feet on the settlement just for spite. Still, they should clear it within three months, and since your mom surely had the house in both your names, you won't have to wait for probate court to get started on rebuilding."
Angela's heart sank. It always came back to that.
Truman raised an eyebrow. "You *do* have your name on the property, don't you?"
Angela just gave him a helpless look. The tears were welling up again...
"Oh, dear. You really do need my help. Lucky for you my limo driver's worthless when it comes to changing a tire. I swear, they'll let anybody get behind the wheel of a limo these days. Anyway, here's my card. Call me tomorrow and we'll work something out."
Jason Truman's left hand executed a series of lightning-quick moves that took less than a second -- extracting a slim gold case from his suit jacket pocket, spinning it around, flipping it open with his thumb, sliding a card across the top to grip it between two fingertips, snapping the case back shut with his other two fingers, and extending his hand, palm down, hiding the case, motioning for her to take it. Once the card was in her tentative grip, his hand blurred the case back into its pocket.
Angela turned the card over and around between her fingers. Sharp-edged white paper with an embossed border, nothing but his name in ornate script on the front, and a litany of contact information on the back. A card this rich-feeling had to come with an hourly rate to match.
"I- I really appreciate what you did, Mr. um, Truman, but I don't think I can afford..."
"Nonsense," Truman dismissed. "When it comes to dealing with probate, you can't afford NOT to have me in your corner."
"Mr. Truman, I work in a fabric store."
The lawyer looked around, suddenly a little disoriented. "Yes, well..." his face softened. "Here." He took the card back; Angela felt awkward at the brusque motion, until he handed it back with the office number scratched out and another number written in pen above it. "That's my private number. If Tim finds out I've taken another 'charity case' I'll never hear the end of it. You call me tomorrow at 6pm; by that time I should have all the background on your case. Just let me handle everything, and when it's all done, we'll arrange for you to pay me back for expenses. How's that?"
"Um, expenses?" She was already in so far over her head; it sounded... expensive.
"Well, the $2,600 I'll be sending to the insurance company tomorrow to keep the wheels greased, and anything else you need. Do you have a place to stay?"
Angela was taken by surprise -- he meant *her* expenses. "Um, yeah."
"And clothes. You have enough clothes?"
"I work in a fabric store."
"Yes, right. Still, there must be something else you need."
"No, I'm okay. But... thanks."
"Don't mention it. And I mean, really, don't mention it."
"You mean it's a secret?"
"No... just from Tim, my assistant. He hates when I do this. He never could see the forest for the trees."
"Oh." Angela looked at the card again. She looked up at the nattily-dressed lawyer, then down at her own suddenly-underdressed outfit. "Why *are* you doing this?" she asked.
"Because I hate to see a pretty girl cry."
"Jason Truman?" Noel Aquino was flabbergasted.
Angela didn't understand his reaction. "Yeah, why, you know him?"
"He was the legal eagle that brokered the Convention Center deal. His firm consults on some of the bigger commercial real estate transactions up and down the coast."
"I didn't know you knew about real estate stuff."
"I don't. But he also helped out one of our parish when the bank tried to foreclose on her house."
"He told me not to call his office number. Sounded kind of fishy."
"Did he give you his card?"
"Yeah. Here."
Noel studied the card for a moment, and then flipped it over. "Just like the card Ms. Fernandes had. Right down to the secret number on the back." He handed it back. "So how'd you manage to get his attention?"
"He found me. His limo had a flat on the way to the airport, his driver pulled into the shopping center parking lot to fix it, an' I guess he wanted a smoothie while he was waiting. He overheard me talking to the insurance company, and next thing I know he's telling them off and giving me his card."
"See, Angela? If you have faith, good things will happen."