Chapter 79: The Last Risk Of Freeze

May 14, 1997, Chicago, Illinois

“Start talking!” Melanie demanded when I sat down in her office about an hour later.

“There isn’t much to say. Katya found the information for me when I asked her to look into several things about Brandon Littleton, Kevin Lomax, and John Milton.”

“Do you know more about him?”

“A LOT more. I don’t think you want to know.”

“Probably not, but I’m your criminal defense attorney, and even though San Antonio doesn’t have you involved in this, you know the CPD and FBI would very much LOVE to get you on something.”

“Fuck ‘em!” I grinned.

“One day that attitude is going to burn you, Mr. Adams.”

“I pay you a hefty hourly rate to make sure that doesn’t happen, Counselor!”

“So?”

“He’s Carla Rizzi’s uncle, and his father was good friends with Don Joseph Grossi.”

“No way! Does Joyce know about this?”

“Of course. It was a family business.”

“Joyce is Outfit? Seriously? And you knew this back in High School? Are you insane?”

“No, she’s not. She never was. Yes, she knew her grandfather was Mafia, but she was never involved. She inherited 100% of his legitimate business interests, including NIKA. And Don Joseph never once made any demands of NIKA. That’s why he put Joyce in the Chair, and why she inherited his shares.”

“And the OTHER stuff went to...”

I shook my head, “Don’t go there, please.”

“If there is one person who needs to know about this, it’s me. That’s especially true given you know this Peter Scuderi and it’s clear that’s the name the San Antonio cops were looking for.”

“Connie and Anthony. But they’re basically out now. They got muscled out of the business.”

“Why do I think there’s more to this?”

“Because you’re a smart woman, Counselor. But none of this comes back to me, or to Joyce, or to Connie and Anthony.”

“And just how can you be sure about that?”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“I’ve heard quite a few stories from obviously guilty defendants. I’m pretty good at finding the truth.”

“Littleton coming after me, all those times, was part of Connie’s revenge for taking ALL her cherries and then not being willing to marry her.”

“Anyone else telling me that story, I’d say ‘yeah, right’, but I know you!”

“In the Biblical sense,” I grinned. “I got one of yours!”

“You’re a smug bastard, Steve Adams.”

“You aren’t the first one to say that.”

“How deep did you get?”

“Very!” I smirked.

“I meant with the Outfit, you idiot!”

“Don Joseph refused to allow me to get involved in the muscle side of the business. That’s all I’m going to say. If I ever need your help in this area, I’ll tell you the FULL story. And if anything ever happens to me, call Katya and ask her for her copy of Fighting Sailor. For now, I’ve probably said a bit too much.”

“Fighting Sailor?”

“A code name, obviously. It’s from RED OCTOBER. The fictional book Jack Ryan wrote about Halsey, about which Ramius says ‘Halsey acted stupidly‘, which is accurate.”

“You and your spy novels! Do you think Scuderi killed Littleton?”

“The smart money has been on that since day one.”

“But why use a gun which matches the ballistics from other unsolved murders which look like Outfit hits?”

“You’re smart, Counselor. You work it out.”

“He’s signing his name because he doesn’t think anyone can touch him! Another hood who thinks he’s smarter than the government.”

“That’s my theory. But pretty much everyone is smarter than the government. The government just has more resources and they are relentless.”

“And Scuderi is why you and Eve carry guns.”

“Mainly, yes.”

“How much does she know?”

“Enough.”

“Dangerous.”

“Right, because any lover of mine, past or present, is going to roll over on me! Well, maybe if they want to be on top, but not to the cops.”

“Very funny. Jamie will kill you!”

“Jamie doesn’t know and never will. Deborah handles nearly everything now. And she got a complete list.”

“Complete? As in every girl?”

“Any girl who works for NIKA or has anything to do with NIKA.”

“So she knows about you and me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure I like that.”

“She’s my attorney, for Pete’s sake!” I grinned.

“Leave him out of this!”

“Sorry, it was a bad attempt at humor. But she needs to know.”

“How many girls who work for you HAVE you been with?”

“Well, Elyse, for one,” I grinned.

“Obviously,” she said dryly.

“More than one other. Let’s leave it at that, please. Again, there is no reason to talk about it with you.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it?”

“Connie?”

“Remember my ‘What if?’ rule? At the time it seemed like the right thing to do and I enjoyed doing it. My only regret is how it negatively affected my relationship with Joyce. It was before I married, by the way.”

“As if THAT put an end to your antics!”

“OK, Miss Opportunity,” I replied.

“I suppose I don’t have any room to talk, do I?”

“It’s very easy, in hindsight, to see our mistakes. But if we spend all our time dwelling on them, we’ll never move forward.”

“So, was I a mistake?”

“No, of course not. Was I?”

“No.”

“I have no regrets, Melanie.”

“Nor do I. Did you talk to Samantha?”

“She doesn’t have any details about the plea agreement, either. She only found out when I called her. I guess they’re playing it close to the vest right now.”

“Probably waiting on the judge to sign-off,” Melanie replied. “The judge doesn’t have to follow the agreed sentence, but the prosecution wants to know beforehand, because otherwise it’s a total mess.”

“Wouldn’t there be multiple judges?” I asked. “State and Federal?”

“True. And that complicates it even more. I only know for sure they reached a plea deal on the Federal charges, but I’d have to guess they have a State deal as well, given how long it took, and given how obviously guilty they are.”

I nodded, “It’s hard to plead innocent to breaking out of prison when they arrest you overseas!”

“Very true, but you could make them prove it.”

“And then they throw the book at you because you made them work too hard for a slam dunk! Anything else?”

“Just a kiss before you go,” she grinned.

We exchanged a deep, sexy French kiss, she winked at me, and then I headed back to the NIKA offices.

May 16, 1997, Chicago, Illinois

On Friday afternoon, I went home with Deborah, and while we were on the L, I received a call from Ben van Hoek. I promised to call him back once I was somewhere private, and slipped my phone back into my pocket. A few minutes later we got off the L and walked a few blocks to the townhouse Deborah and Krissy shared. Deborah let me use her room to return the call.

The conversation was relatively short. Ben, Jocelyn, and one junior associate were considering leaving the firm and starting their own. He asked about my offer to line up capital for him and I gave him Samantha’s number. After we hung up, I called Samantha and explained what I needed and asked her to give him the best deal she could that was guaranteed to pass muster with the IRS and the Ohio Bar Association.

That had turned out to be the one sticky wicket, something I’d discovered when discussing the issue with Deborah. Bar Associations did not, generally, permit outside investors in law firms, and as such, any financing had to be carefully structured to ensure Samantha had no interest in the firm, and no claim on anything beyond repayment of the loan according to the terms.

“Everything OK?” Deborah asked.

I nodded, “Ben van Hoek is going to form his own firm.”

“That was pretty much a given, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Samantha is going to arrange the capital, according to the parameters you gave me.”

“Cool. The Chinese food will be delivered in about fifteen minutes. I called before we left the office. Krissy will be here in about ten minutes. Do you want a drink?”

“Bourbon, if you have it.”

“Woodford Reserve OK?”

“Never tried that one. I’ve seen it on the shelf at the liquor store.”

“My dad suggested it. It was just introduced last year. I have Blanton’s if you prefer.”

“I’ll try the new one, but Blanton’s is top shelf! Not ‘Pappy van Winkle top shelf’, but top shelf.”

“You need Samantha’s money to even have a prayer at getting ‘Pappy’, according to my dad.”

“The only place I’ve ever had it is the LA Athletic Club, and they haven’t had any in years.”

“Is it as good as they say?”

“There’s bourbon, and then there’s ‘Pappy’. You might as well call it bottled ‘unobtanium’ because they only make a few thousand bottles a year.”

“Is that like the material used to create Marvin the Martian’s weapon?”

“The ‘Eludium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator’?” I said with my best ‘Marvin’ impression. “But I wonder if it would blow up something made from duranium or tritanium?”

“I thought neutronium was indestructible.”

“In TOS? I think so. Now, if I had sufficient gold-pressed latinum, I could probably actually get some ‘Pappy’!”

Deborah poured some bourbon for me, and some iced vodka for herself.

“You know, I never tried stroking your ears!” Deborah teased as she handed me the glass.

“But I do follow some of the Rules of Acquisition!”

Deborah nodded, “And I know which one is the key - ‘Opportunity plus instinct equals profit‘.”

“How did I not know you were a Star Trek fan?”

“You never asked! And you usually don’t quote Trek.”

“But I communicate by Darmok,” I grinned. “And I think you live by at least one, too! ‘It never hurts to suck up to the boss‘!”

“Or suck the boss,” she teased.

“Cute. I like Rule 108 - ‘A woman wearing clothes is like a man without any profits‘.”

“And here I thought you’d prefer Rule 113! ‘Always have sex with the boss‘!”

“I don’t recall that one,” I replied. “But I like it!”

“It’s in a book I have - The Ferengi Rules of Acquisition - that was published a couple of years ago.”

“I like this book! Is that why you did it?”

Deborah shook her head, “No.”

“It was some kind of experiment, wasn’t it?”

“It’s probably better to call it the conclusion of an experiment from my teen years.”

“And?”

“I believe, after extensive experimentation, I could have regular sex with a guy. I strongly prefer girls, mind you.”

“That’s what this was about?” I asked.

“Does that bother you?”

I shook my head, “No. It doesn’t diminish the bond we created, and it’s not as if we were going to have a life-long physical relationship. It is, and was, up to you what happens in the future.”

“You don’t care one way or the other?”

“I care about YOU, and that means understanding your needs and doing my best to fulfill them. That’s true whether we’re sleeping together or not.”

“So what is it that you want from me?”

“Good legal advice and a close, intimate confidante. My definition of ‘intimate’, not society’s. What is it you need from me?”

“What you have given me - a chance to be a real lawyer straight out of law school. None of my friends from law school have even come close to doing the things I’ve done.”

“And long term?”

“I think that remains to be seen. We talked about that when I applied - that this would potentially be a stepping stone to something else, but at least five years down the road.”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be this interesting all the time; in fact, I hope it isn’t!”

“I have a sneaking suspicion you’re wrong about that.”

“Sadly, so do I,” I said ruefully.

We heard a key in the door, it opened, and Krissy came in. She and Deborah greeted each other with a kiss, and Krissy gave me a light hug. She went to put her purse and bag in the bedroom and just as she came out, the bell rang, signifying that our food had arrived. Deborah answered the door, paid the deliveryman, and shut the door. She brought the food to the dining room table and we sat down to eat.

“How was your day?” Deborah asked Krissy.

“The usual - dumb jocks who think they can ‘tough it out’ instead of following a prescribed course of rest or rehab. And it’s not just the guys. I’m working with a female basketball player who thinks simply wrapping her ankle lets her play on a bad sprain. Athletes seem to think they’re indestructible.”

“It’s not just athletes,” I replied. “I struggled with the restrictions when I was recovering from a concussion, and I have a constant battle with myself about my restrictions on sparring and on being able to fully participate in karate training. I’ve done some things which I think are properly calculated risks, but my physicians disagree.”

“Shocking,” Krissy said dryly.

“Don’t you think there are times when other considerations have to override medical judgment?”

“End-of-life decisions? Sure. But risking your health and perhaps permanent injury?”

“But don’t we do that just by getting out of bed? Or staying in bed? In fact, isn’t every single second of our life a potential health risk?”

“Philosophically? Sure. But you can engage in mental masturbation all you want, and it doesn’t change the facts. Yes, of course, you can be hurt or die just going about your normal business, which is far different from doing something you know will put you at serious risk and for which it’s not worth suffering permanent injury or even death.”

“But who makes that decision?” I asked.

“You do, of course, but my argument is not that you don’t have the right to make that decision, but that you can’t use philosophical or rhetorical tricks to magically make the risk go away.”

“Mental masturbation?”

“Something one of my chemistry teachers once said about philosophy. I think he has a point. You mentally stroke yourself to feel good about what you’re doing, even when you know you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“But do I know that?”

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t make the kind of arguments you’re making!”

“I’m the only one qualified to decide if a risk is worth taking.”

“Very true. But if you’re as smart as you think you are, or maybe ‘wise’ is a better word, then you’ll know to listen to advice about a course of treatment or action.”

“Don’t you think there are times when you have to give up too much?”

“Excluding end-of-life decisions?”

“Sure.”

“I suppose, if your quality of life is so low that it’s not worth living with the restrictions, but that’s an awfully high bar, don’t you think? Is being what amounts to an invalid and not being able to work or care for your family worth the risk of play fighting? Especially when you can participate enough to be promoted to Senior Instructor status? Let me ask, which is more important now? Your abilities and skills, or your ability to teach others?”

“This is usually where I say ‘I hate you’ to someone, and that’s usually a female someone.”

“You’re a logical person, Steve. But don’t use that logic to deceive yourself. It’s FAR too easy to engage in sophistry or start believing your own pseudo-Socratic bullshit!”

“It sounds like you’ve had this discussion before.”

“My mentor, who has worked with NFL players, had a degree in philosophy which he discovered didn’t help pay the bills. He decided to get trained as a physical therapist, and used his rhetorical skills to push back against the kind of bullshit arguments you’re making. He taught me. Use your philosophical and rhetorical skills to challenge other people’s thinking, not to justify moronic behavior.”

“So tell me how you REALLY feel,” I grinned.

“Just eat!” Krissy said with a soft laugh.

We enjoyed sharing three different dishes, though I had to pass on the jasmine rice, which Deborah and Krissy both said was wonderful. When we finished eating, we cleaned up the empty boxes and plates, then went to sit in the living room with drink - bourbon for me, and vodka with cranberry juice for the girls.

“Jennifer had some VERY interesting stories to tell,” Krissy said.

“Jennifer ALWAYS has stories to tell. Which ones did she share?”

“Mostly the three of us talked about our struggles with our sexuality, though I think my situation is closer to Josie’s than it is to Jennifer’s. But all four of us struggled with our sexuality and trying to figure it out.”

“And I think my experience is closer to Katy’s,” Deborah said. “Of all the people we talked to, only Amy never struggled with her sexuality. She knew she was lesbian and didn’t fight it, and her parents didn’t lose their minds over it the way Katy’s did. Or, to some extent, Josie’s.”

“Did you reach any conclusions?” I asked.

Deborah nodded, “Three. The first is, we want to be a couple, and not have to deal with a three-way relationship. After talking to your wives, that just doesn’t seem like something we want to get into. Second, we’d want the guy to live close, but not with us, similar to how things work with you, Jennifer, and Josie. We’d take primary responsibility for parenting.”

“That’s more or less what I expected.”

“The problem, of course,” Krissy said, “is how we go about finding the guy. You and Jennifer sort of had a head start, if you will, because you dated in High School and stayed close. Neither of us particularly want to date to find the guy, because it would be confusing and complicated. And it’s not like we can run an ad in the paper which says ‘man wanted’.”