Chapter 8

"Good timing, Carrie. Tom called while you were out. He has a settlement offer from the insurance company. He'll be here..." Darrin glanced at his wristwatch and smiled. "... any minute." He took the grocery bags from her hands, and she bent into the trunk of the car and removed the other two.

"Cool. Did he say what the offer was?" she asked as they trudged up the stairs.

"No, and I asked. You're his client. He wouldn't discuss it with me." He helped her put away the groceries, and they sat at the kitchen table. He reached, pushed her hair to the side and caressed her cheek. "You don't need to hide the wound with your hair, sis."

"Around you, no, but I don't like little kids pointing at me at the grocery store."

"Actually, it's looking better every day. I think you're more conscious about the scar than anyone."

Chuckling, she said, "Probably."

The doorbell rang, and Darrin jumped up. "That'll be Tom. I'll let him in."

Carrie watched Tom Wilson walk up the stairs. A tall man, but very slim on the verge of being skinny, he wore an expensive dark-blue suit, a crisp, starched white shirt, gold cufflinks and a paisley tie. A fashion conscious man, Carrie thought. At the top of the stairs, he spied Carrie and gave her a bright smile, displaying perfect, very white teeth, which Carrie suspected were mostly caps. She did like his dimples, though, and returned his smile.

She jumped up, greeted him and extended her hand. He took it and gave it a shake. Soft hands, no calluses and a weak handshake, Carrie thought. He's not strong, not like Darrin. The men wanted a beer, and Carrie opened a cola for her. They gathered in the living room.

"Darrin tells me the insurance company made a settlement offer," Carrie said.

"Yes, but I don't think you should accept it. The offer includes medical expenses, loss of income from your work at the restaurant for a couple of weeks, and $5,000 for pain and suffering. This is their opening offer. I think we can do much better."

"Do the medical expenses include therapy?" Darrin asked. "Carrie keeps saying she doesn't need therapy, but she's been plagued with nightmares about the event."

"Yes, the medical expenses include the initial visit to the emergency room, plastic surgery and therapy. The insurance company will place limits on the surgery and therapy expenses, though."

Carrie grinned. "I see the problem. What's in it for you, Tom?"

He laughed. "The $5,000. The insurance company calculated the pain and suffering offer carefully. If you add up the total estimated medical expenses, your loss of income for a couple of weeks, plus the $5,000 for pain and suffering, and then multiply the sum by my firm's 35%, it comes almost to exactly $5,000, which means you'd get no cash, Carrie."

"But my medical bills would be taken care of."

"Yes, in a limited fashion."

"I lost my job," Carrie said. "Does that make a difference?"

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It happened recently. My boss took one look at me two nights ago when I went to work and sent me home. He didn't actually fire me, but he doesn't want me showing his customers to their tables until I'm completely healed. In the meantime, I have no doubt he'll replace me."

Tom grinned. "This puts a whole new wrinkle into the negotiations." He pulled out his cell phone. "Excuse me," he said as he dialed. "Yes, this is Tom Wilson. I'd like to speak to Aaron Levitz please." He turned to Carrie, and his smile widened. "We've got them now." Turning back to the phone, he said, "Aaron, my client refused your offer... Of course, I presented it. I'm with the client now. You have a new problem to deal with, Aaron. Her work requires a pretty face. She no longer has her job, she was fired because her pretty face isn't pretty anymore and may never be pretty again, certainly not as pretty as it was before the incident, so your two-week time frame for loss of income no longer applies. This is an eighteen-year-old gorgeous girl, Aaron, horribly disfigured in her youth." He winked at Carrie. "She'll suffer with that disfigurement for the rest of her life, say sixty or more years, and you offered only $5,000 for this suffering. Get real, Aaron. Unless you give her a reasonable offer, my firm is committed to taking this to a jury. You saw the photographs, Aaron. You don't have a prayer, and on top of everything, she can't do her job anymore... Hold a minute, Aaron. I'll ask her." He put his hand over the mouthpiece on the phone. "He wants a counter offer," Tom said.

"What would you suggest?" Carrie asked.

"Estimated medical expenses doubled. Six months loss of income, and $3,000 a year for fifty years for pain and suffering. He'll counter, but I think I can get unlimited actual medical expenses, three months loss of income, and $2,000 a year for pain and suffering."

"Do it," Carrie said.

Tom presented the counter offer and hung up. "You heard. I limited the time the counter would be open to twenty-four hours. We should settle this tomorrow. Do I have your permission to settle under the final terms I mentioned or better?"

"Yes." Carrie chuckled and a mischievous glint entered her eyes. "On another matter, Tom. I know I'm horribly disfigured, but I need an escort to Darrin's three-man show. Would you take pity on this daughter of Frankenstein and be my escort for the evening?"

Tom's eyes widened, and he glanced furtively toward Darrin, who nodded. The lawyer smiled. "Daughter of Frankenstein. Disfigured. Phooey! It would be my pleasure to attend Darrin's show with you, Carrie, and thank you for taking pity on this lowly ambulance chaser by asking me. When is it scheduled?" He took out his day timer.

"A week from tomorrow. Our parents will be in town for the show, so we're planning an early dinner, say six o'clock."

Tom jotted down the particulars in his book. "Great. Listen, I'll get back with you tomorrow about the settlement. If it goes through, let's celebrate. I'll take you out to dinner."

Carrie shook her head and smiled. "How about a rain check. I'm so busy preparing for the show I don't have an extra minute."

"You're involved with the show?" Tom asked somewhat surprised.

"Carrie set it up, Tom. She's my manager and agent," Darrin said.

Tom's soft blue eyes widened.

Carrie stood. "Tom, I really appreciate all you've done to help me with the insurance company. Call me as soon as you hear anything, good or bad."

She guided the lawyer down the stairs and said goodbye at the door. When she returned upstairs, she asked, "What did you mean by manager?"

"You handle money better than me. Besides, I hate bill paying and all the irritating details involved with money and taxes and all that stuff. I looked into manager fees. They run from five to ten percent. Let's start with five and move it to ten when you get good at it, which you will." He held out his arms. "You know all this division of fees is a bit much. What I have is yours, Carrie. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. We're partners for life, richer or poorer, etcetera."

Carrie rushed into his arms. "Oh, Darrin, you're the most wonderful man in the world. I love you so damned much!" She kissed him, and then grinned mischievously. "You're not after my money, are you?"

Darrin looked confused, and then suddenly realized what she meant. "No, of course..."

"Just kidding, fool. What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours, richer or poorer. Okay?"

He nodded. "I need a break. Care for some quality time?"

"Wanna fuck, huh?" she asked with a crooked grin.

"No, I want to make love."

"Even better."

"Carrie, your line has been busy for an hour," Tom said, obviously frustrated.

"Sorry, I was on the Internet, and we only have one phone line."

"Oh. You should get a cell phone. They're cheap nowadays, but even if they were expensive, I'm happy to say you can now afford one. I didn't do as well as I thought, but I'd still recommend you accept the offer."

"I'll follow your advice, Tom. What's the offer?"

"$10,000 for loss of income plus $50,000 for pain and suffering, which is half what I hoped to get for you. The medical expenses will still be limited, but I doubled the upside limitations. It's highly unlikely you'll be out of pocket for the plastic surgeon or therapist."

"As I said, I'll accept the offer, Tom, but I'm curious. Why $50,000 instead of $100,000?"

"The amount relates to court costs added to the insurance company's estimate of any potential award. You don't have a strong case, Carrie. The insurance company believes they can go to court and their expenses including any award would not exceed their offer. If we refuse the offer, they'll force us to litigate to get anything."

"I see. What I don't understand is why my case is weak."

"It wasn't Seven Eleven's fault you were pistol whipped, not completely. You were as culpable as the owner of the convenience store. You casually walked into a robbery in progress, but when Mr. Kim killed the thief in front of you, and the dead man fell on you and traumatized you, Kim became liable."

"I see. I never blamed Mr. Kim, so it's probably a good thing we don't need to take this to trial. I'd have made a poor witness. When will I receive the money and what's my share?"

"I'll call Aaron after we hang up, and they'll prepare the settlement documents. If they don't drag their feet, money should change hands Tuesday or Wednesday next week. The total settlement is estimated at $90,000. $30,000 of that number is for medical expenses, which will be escrowed and paid when invoiced by the hospital, doctors and therapist involved. As agreed, my firm took the case on contingency for 35% of the settlement, which equates to $31,500 and will come out of the $60,000 un-escrowed award. You'll receive $28,500 cash at the time of settlement, plus we'll immediately reimburse Darrin for his out-of-pocket expenses for the emergency room out of the $30,000 set aside for medical expenses. Your subsequent medical bills will be paid as they accrue."

A chill went down Carrie's back. She now had the money for her college education.

"Tom, you did an excellent job. Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't have time to go out and celebrate?"

Yes, I have time, but if I'm going to celebrate it will be with Darrin, not you, Tom Wilson.

"Sorry, I have an early appointment at the gallery tomorrow. Phil, that's the gallery owner, will be hanging Darrin's paintings for the show, and I need to make sure he's treated fairly. Call me when the papers are ready for me to sign and I can pick up my check. I'll see you next Friday, Tom, and once again, thank you."

Tom persisted, which irritated Carrie, and she cut him off as pleasantly as possible and disconnected the call. Thirty seconds later she threw herself into Darrin's arms.

"We're rich!" she squealed and mashed her mouth to his.

"Whoa! What do you mean?"

She explained.

"Carrie, $28,500 doesn't make you rich."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grinned. "Spoilsport. As far as this bumpkin from Milltown is concerned, I'm rich! I now have the money for my college education, bro."

Not quite, he thought. She'll need to pay taxes on 65% of the $90,000 settlement, which will wipe out a good chunk of the cash she's getting, but now isn't the time to take her down. After all she's been through, she deserves some moments of happiness.

"I think we should celebrate," he said. "I'll call in sick, and we'll go out on the town."

"Yes!"

"What would you like to do?"

"Dinner and dancing! Darrin, I've never been to a really fine restaurant. I feel like being pampered. I want my every whim satisfied while we dine. I want to taste fine food and sip fine wine and gaze at you with all the love I feel for you. So pick a place where no one will know us. And then, I want you to hold me in your arms while we sway to the soft sounds of music." She giggled. "I want to feel sexy and desirable, so while we dance I want you to get all hard and rub against me and touch me and kiss me and get me so hot I'll want you to take me right there on the dance floor. Do you realize tonight will be our first date, bro? I want to have so much fun I'll remember our first date for the rest of my life!"

The beat changed, and Darrin watched Carrie step back, close her eyes and let the beat take hold of her. She started with slow movements, undulating to the new beat, an insistent rhythm at first, which became more intense as the song progressed. She went with the sounds, and they became part of her.

Then he changed his mind. For him, it appeared as if she controlled the thuds and hums and echoes like a conductor guiding an orchestra, rather than moving to and reacting to the music. She tossed her head and her mahogany tresses flew, counterbalanced by the graceful movement of her arms and hands and the sway of her perky breasts, moving freely under the satiny bodice that tried to contain them, barely succeeding. She spun and her mini-skirt twirled up a little, and her hips swished to the syncopated beat, controlling it, forcing it to move faster and faster. She danced alone, feeling the music, using it like a lover, letting it caress her, moving against it and stepping coyly away.

He stood and watched her. Carrie appreciated sound and music while his world had always been visual, and he decided he'd never seen anything so beautiful as his sister making love with the reverberating beats.

And he wasn't alone. Other occupants of the dance floor stopped and watched her. She had become a symphony that demanded an audience, an aria to be appreciated and adored for its beauty and perfection. And Darrin adored her, felt so much joy and pride he wanted to let the world know the gorgeous creature unknowingly demanding adoration was his, wanted to shout up at the heavens that he loved her and she loved him!