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Chapter 14 ~ Phone Call
The voice on the phone was curt, unfriendly, and familiar.
“Bob.”
“Uh, who’s this?” said Franck.
“Bob. We gotta talk.”
“Who is this?”
“You’re Bob, right?”
“No.”
“Bob McIver?”
“No, that’s my roommate. What do you want? What’s this about? Do want me to leave him a message?”
“You sound like Bob. You’re the guy with the black frizzy hair and the stupid hat. You play banjo. SUV in the driveway. This is Zeke. You remember me from the house. We gotta talk.”
“Umm, yeah, how’s it going, Zeke. Yeah, we should play some tunes some time.”
“Right, let’s do that, but here’s the thing. I’m onto you. You’re not the guy.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Franck. He didn’t know what Zeke was after, exactly, but he could feel the heat rising. It felt as though the other shoe had dropped.
“You’re not the owner. You are a fake. You signed the quit-claim. You forged it, my friend. My boss is not going to like this and he’s going to find out on Monday.”
Franck remained silent.
Zeke went on. “The bank knows it’s not the owner’s signature. They have the original signature on the loan. My manager showed me the paperwork, wants me to figure out the problem. That puts me between a rock and hard place, Bob.”
“I don’t get this at all. You said your boss won’t know until Monday but your manager told you about it.”
“Right. OK. At the bank I have a manager, but I also have a boss. Here’s the picture. I’ll explain it once, so listen carefully. Then you’re going to help out. Got it?”
Franck swallowed.
“We do a lot of foreclosures, Bob. They’re all the same. People can’t pay. They play games. They go away, stretch things out, like our friend McIver’s doing. Then maybe they come in and get a mod in a box or push it through the redemption, but they’re not going to pay anyway and the bank’s left holding the bag.”
“You lost me. Mod in a box? Redemption? Is this fast food or a church?”
“Funny guy. Wise ass. Mod in a box, loan modification, you know, pretend to fix things up and make payments and then don’t pay, and it all goes to foreclosure anyway. Or they wait and live free through redemption and then they don’t pay up, they don’t redeem the loan, and it goes to foreclosure anyway.”
“What’s this got to do with you or with me? What do you want?”
“I’m not done. Just listen, okay? My boss and I help everyone out. When I spot a bad mortgage, we help everybody cut to the chase. It’s where it’s going anyway but this way we cut it all short and everybody wins. My boss gets the property – that’s the paper you signed. He makes good on the loan. The bank is happy. He develops the place with bank loans. Makes the bank even happier. He sells and makes a lot of money, makes him happy. He pays back the original owner, like your McIver friend, which makes him happy. He pays me a cut which makes me happy. Everybody’s happy. No stretching the inevitable out for years and destroying everybody in the process.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Too fast for me. You’re saying everybody comes out ahead in the end. But you basically steal the place, don’t you?”
“No way. The owner signs off like you did, except you’re not the guy. I need the real guy. That’s where you come in. Where is he?”
“I’ve no idea, Zeke. But you didn’t answer me. You’re stealing the house.”
“No, the owner signs off, and makes out in the end. Look, I’ve seen this a thousand times. He’ll lose it one way or another. He doesn’t have the money, that’s why it’s in foreclosure. He’s not going to come up with the money. He’s toast. We’re just giving him a hand.”
“This is how your bank operates?”
“No, the bank doesn’t know anything about it. They follow the rules. My boss and I just help everyone around it all. Everybody wins, Bob. Except you, if you don’t do what you have to do.”
“Well do you work for the bank or don’t you? Were you lying to me at the house or lying right now?”
“Neither. Jesus, too many questions. Not good for your health, my friend. Look, my bank manager sent me to check on the property, turn off the water so the pipes don’t freeze, all that. They know the owner hasn’t been around for a while. But I’m always keeping an eye out to help my boss, the developer, my real job, you might say. So then you show up. The owner, you say. Perfect. Except you’re not the owner. The bank knows it, and my boss is about to find out. Not good. You have until Monday to find the real owner.”
“What? What are you talking about? I don’t know the guy.”
“Well not very long ago you not only knew the guy, you WERE the guy. Fun little trick. Now here’s your treat: find the real guy, and get him to sign the papers.”
“What the hell? I don’t know how to do this, and even if I did, how am I going to get him to sign something?”
“I just very patiently explained it all to you. How you do it is your problem. But if you don’t do it, just think for a second. If I don’t have the papers Monday you’re in for forgery and for fraud. That’s jail time, buddy. I’ve got the goods on you and the paperwork ready to go with a lawyer. You’re going in the clink on Tuesday if you don’t perform, Mr Wainwright.”
“How did you… what is this? How am I going to… I don’t even have the papers, whatever they are. And I’m not going to meet with you until I think this over.”
“The papers are in your car. On the driver’s seat. Go get ‘em, tiger. I’ll make sure my boss gives you a nice cut, for your trouble. We’re talking five figures, how’s that? You have until Monday or it’s jail time. Or worse.” Zeke hung up.
Chapter 15 ~ A Night Out
Franck stopped by the restaurant as Regina was finishing up. She saw him and smiled, waved hi, sauntered up to him, and whispered, “Franck, I haven’t had anything to eat yet, I was just about to grab something.”
“Me too, well, why don’t we go somewhere different? We can check out another place and get a bite to eat and then maybe go for a drink or movie or something.”
“Yeah, okay, well let me get out of my uniform, and I’ll be right back.”
She strode off hurriedly, but as Franck watched, she slowed down to a more sensuous strut, and peeked back at him as she turned into the ladies room.
He chatted with Sal, some small talk, and asked him if he could recommend a decent place to have dinner. “Right here’s the best!” he said.
“Yeah, not bad, but how about if I check out another place for you?” said Franck.
“Lots of good places in town. Don’t go to Luigi’s, though, you don’t want to know about their kitchen. Franck, I’ve made some changes. Come over to the desk.”
Sal told him he was finally getting the chance to wait tables on weekends. Franck was excited; he might get 50% more tips, maybe even double the tips. He’d been asking for this for months.
“We’ll start it off next week, Franck. Can you do that? Let’s see, this is Wednesday, so that means nothing this weekend because that’s still the old schedule. Then the new schedule kicks in, so you won’t do the usual shifts at the beginning of the week, and you come in next Thursday. Basically think of it as a week off.”
“Um, okay, great,” said Franck. No money for a week and then more money after that. “Thanks, that’s perfect, Sal.” Things were looking up.
Regina came out with a low neckline, cleavage-revealing top with a short skirt and high black boots.
Franck was so unused to her being nice to him that he was speechless for a moment.
“Let’s go, let's go out – to Luigi’s, what do you think?” Franck said.
“Yeah, okay,” said Regina, “Sal doesn’t like me going there, so just don’t tell him, okay?”
There was a wait at Luigi’s so they sat by the bar and had a beer. Even though there weren’t too many people in front of them, it seemed to take forever.
“This is like that Pineland Acres rerun,” exclaimed Regina, perched on a bar stool. “Did you ever see that? The guy waits for a table and – no hostess, no hostess, and he’s, like, making a funny face and starts showing people to tables?”
“Um, no, missed that one.”
“You know, the hostess is missing for a while and there are some empty tables so, he’s good, he walks around the desk, and puts on this face, you know, like all official and everything, and he’s like, can I help you? and takes them to a dirty table and hands them menus, well you know he grabbed them from the desk and it was funny, but I don’t like it much. He’s, like, you know, too much of a smart ass.”
“Right.”
“But Desperate Women, that one, did you see that one where she’s like all over him at a restaurant and tweaking him under the table and he like pulls out a book to read and she’s like hey what is this and she pulls out her cellphone and calls another guy?”
“Well actually, when I moved in with Bob a year, almost a year ago now, he warned me before I signed anything, that he had got rid of cable TV and didn’t want it, and I said fine.”
“Oh, so you don’t see too much. I don’t watch much either. But the best one was when she started making moves at, you know, the cute curly haired married guy next door that keeps making eyes at her and doing nothing about it, and she’s over there, I forget how she got there, but she’s like hey come on big guy and starts to make a move and he can’t believe his luck and he’s like wow, he’s like, let’s get it on and is all excited and then she stops and looks at her watch and she’s like, oh my husband’s almost home, see you later, and just leaves him and he’s like, ‘What?!’ and she’s walking out with a smirk on her face like she just gave him the biggest case of blue balls, it’s freakin hilarious.”
“No, I don’t really watch that, or anything, honest. When I was in college, I majored in Creativity and I can’t think of anything less creative than sitting in front of the boob tube. What else do you like to do?”
“What else? Well I like reality shows. Which one’s your favorite?”
“I don’t really…”
“That Wife Swingers is the weirdest, like I like it but I don’t like it, you know what I mean? It’s weird but you can’t stop watching it, I don’t know how that is sometimes. So you went to college and all?”
“Yes, in Ohio. Where did you go?”
“Well I was waitressing in high school and my parents made me go to Saragontic State part time for a while but well, you know, I was really thinking about it and, like, everyone is trying to get work, have a place to stay, have friends, have something to eat, and I have like a job and now a place, my own place with two roommates, and they’re cool if I bring someone home with me, at least they said they’d be cool about it if I did, so I’m like, what’s the thing? I have it all, I don’t need more teachers and homework and end up doing the same thing.”
Franck excused himself and headed to the men's room. As he walked in, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He rinsed his face with some water and looked at the mirror, then down at the faucets. “What the hell am I doing?” he whispered.
When he got back to the dining room, Regina caught his eye. The hostess had found them a table. For a moment, he felt pretty manly sitting down to dinner with her.
“So, like, if you were in a TV show, which one would it be?” asked Regina.
“Aren’t you going to look at the menu?”
“No, I always get the same thing.”
“Well, okay, a TV show. It would have to be Godfather or Sopranos or something. I have a guy breathing down my neck.”
“You do? Really? That is so cool.” Regina leaned over the table, and Franck could see fairly far down her shirt.
“Can I take your order?” the waitress said with what Franck felt was a sly smile as he looked up at her a bit too suddenly. They placed their orders quickly, and Regina returned to leaning over with an intense, expectant stare, her perfect eyebrows arched.
“So?” she said. “This guy?”
“Yeah. This guy is kind of trying to blackmail me. I signed something, just fooling around, and now he thinks he has something on me.”
“Wow. This is real?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story, really. I took a joyride and got into a little trouble.”
“Wow! Tell me! That is so cool.”
“Okay, so I’m sitting in a huge traffic jam, sitting in my SUV on the railroad tracks waiting for the cars to get moving, and this guy’s sitting on the tracks next to me going the other way, and he kind of grins out the window and says, ‘Hey bud, you’re sitting on the tracks, what are you going to do when the train comes through, wet your pants?’ And he’s laughing and just staring at me, so I look over at him and past his car, because you know I’m up in the SUV and he’s down below, so I see down the tracks at the horizon there’s a train coming, so I say, ‘Me? I’m going to race that freakin train to the next station. What are you going to do? Get squashed? Look behind you.’ So he looks and sees the train coming and his eyes start out of his head and he turns back to me and guess what? I’m already outta there, just rolling on down the tracks.”
“No! You’re joking. This is real? You did that?”
“That’s right. Rolling down the tracks in my car. And I look back and the guy is freaking out, eyes bugged out, I think he swallowed his cigarette.” Franck and Regina laughed.
“So, so did you race the train?”
“Yeah. Raced it. Beat it. No sweat. The engineer blared his train horn at me as he went past, and shook his fist at me. What a gas.”
“O. M. G. I cannot believe you are telling me this. This really happened? Like, you could do a reality show by yourself, that is really, I cannot really, O. M. G.”
But Franck wasn’t listening to her. He had a pit in his stomach. The sound of Zeke’s voice stuck in his ears, and he couldn’t shake free of seeing the image of the box lying open. He let Regina do the talking now, and said mostly Yes and Uh-huh, even when they got talking about their restaurant, about the manager and about tips.
As they finished eating, Franck said, “Regina, there's something I have to tell you.”
She quieted and looked up at him with her head tilted, a slight smile at the corners of her lips.
“I have to take you home,” he said.
She smiled. “What happened to the movie, big boy?” Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled, showing her white teeth.
Franck winced at the “big boy” but went on, “No look, I can't shake this situation. This guy. He's threatening me. I have to figure something out. I have to go home.”
Her expression became blank. “Sure, Franck. Let's go. Nice dinner. Just don't tell Sal we came here, will you?”
As he drove her home, she chatted while Franck kept picturing the box, the wagons, the ship, the tunnel, the house, the whisky bottle. They reached her place and he stopped the car, and all was quiet for a change. He wondered whether he should be chivalrous and see her to the door or just let her go. He sat for a moment and she sat quiet for a moment as well.
Suddenly she fidgeted, and said quickly, “I just have to tell you, I don’t do anything on the first date. Sorry to disappoint you, Franck! It was fun to go to a different restaurant wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, thanks for coming out, Regina.” Her face was fairly close. The eyeliner was a bit heavy. He found himself wondering if it was painful for her to pluck her eyebrow hairs. She bustled out of the car and up to her place.
He lifted his hands out of his lap as if they weighed fifty pounds each, set them on the steering wheel, drew a deep breath, and started the car.
Love the dialogue!