Out on the West Side at night, it’s so flat and desolate you can sometimes find yourself in a kind of isolation therapy. Somewhere between Coalinga and Mendota, my brain had slipped into that elusive theta state where spurts of super learning, creativity, hallucination and problem solving are common occurrences. Tonight’s problem was the familiar but always perplexing, how the hell did I get here?
The day had started out good enough. It was Friday, my wife and I were looking forward to a nice dinner out followed by an evening alone together. All that stood in the way was about eight or nine little hours, most of them windshield time. It was an easy loop from Fresno down through Visalia, Porterville, Delano and Tulare and then back up 99 home.
I was just south of Porterville around 2:30 when my Nextel went off and I heard those four fatal words. ”Luke, where are you?” Maria, my supervisor/dispatcher was on the other end. I knew exactly what was about to happen.
Chirp ”I’m about 50 miles north of Bakersfield Maria. What’s up?”
Chirp ”Luke, I need you to get to the Kinko’s back in Visalia I’ve just emailed you six subpoenas that need to be served out on the west side by midnight-to-night.”
Chirp “Can’t you give those to Blake or Horacio?”
Chirp “I could but they wouldn’t get them all served.”
Chirp “We have plans tonight, who’s the client?”
Chirp “Who do you think?”
Chirp “‘I think he does this to me on purpose, Maria.”
Chirp “The way I heard the story, you deserve it. He is paying extra for the priority treatment though. That’s why you get the big bucks Luke.”
Cheap ass attorneys. Varoosh “Var” Donabedian, Esquire probably had the mailroom boy out trying to serve this stuff for the last three weeks to save himself some money. Undoubtedly a hearing was scheduled for next week and some witnesses still needed to be…informed. His firm was Pembroke Investigations’ biggest client and this was the best job I’d had in quite a while. It’s just that lately this seemed to happen when I had other plans. It was starting to cause some problems for me at home. Whatever extra he was paying for these rush jobs, it wasn’t enough.
Donabedian and I hadn’t hit it off very well the first time we’d met. It was at a golf awards banquet last year. The tournament was strictly a business affair, a marketing ploy designed to let litigation support vendors rub elbows with attorneys, claims adjusters and their assistants. I was no golfer, but there I was, along with a few other operatives and our boss, Jack Pembroke representing the company. Jennifer, my wife, had come along to help a couple of our clerks hand out Pembroke swag and Bud Light at the hole we had sponsored.
The tournament started at seven in the morning. By noon everybody was done golfing and had switched to properly disposing the left over beer. Even though it was a workday we all got to go home to rest and get cleaned up for the banquet. Jen had really enjoyed the day and we took full advantage of the rare afternoon alone together. Later, as I was watching her dress, I couldn’t help but notice how much she enjoyed putting on a flattering dark brown evening gown and her modest gold jewelry. She looked amazing.
“You like getting dressed up don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a reason to get dressed up.”
We all came back to the country club that evening for the banquet. I’d never seen so many drunk insurance adjusters all in one place. Jen thought maybe they had been bussed in collectively. I assured her they had all driven themselves. Even worse, they would be trying to drive back home a few hours and more than a few drinks later.
We were seated eight to a table, drinking and making small talk while a band played 80’s hits. Donabedian and his date were seated across from us. I didn’t like the guy right from the get go. I’ll freely admit that I married up, big time. I’m used to guys flirting with my wife, but most have the tact to let it go after a complement or a lame joke. Varoosh couldn’t leave it alone. He made a big point of saying her name with every question and it drove me nuts.
“Jennifer…didn’t I see you out on the seventh hole this morning?
“You like Tommy Tutone… Jennifer?”
”So…Jennifer, what’s it like being married to a private dick?”
She looked right at him, smiled and purred “Unnn-believable”.
That’s my girl! Everybody laughed. Var’s partner, the Tolbert in Tolbert, Renfroe and Donabedian clapped me on the shoulder and said “good man.” That must have been the signal for “Var” to shut the fuck up, because he did.
After dinner, we excused ourselves and walked over by the bar to talk with Blake and Jack and some paralegals. Nature called. When I came back Donabedian was leaning in behind Jen, whispering something to her. His right hand was on her hip and his left hand was protecting a bottle of beer on the bar. My boss looked worried.
Donabedian was a bit bigger than me but I was still relatively sober and had some training and practice in my favor. I walked up behind him, and peeled his paw off my wife’s hip with my left hand. I folded his wrist and pulled his arm back and up, Jen managed to slide out to our right.
“Where’s your date….Varoosh?” He didn’t appreciate the irony. Instead, he tried to swing around with the bottle in his left hand just like I was hoping he would. I drove the heel of my right palm up and through his nose.
As he crumpled, I relaxed the wristlock and sat him down. It was over before anyone could step in and break things up. I looked around for Jen, she was soaked with Var’s beer and spitting mad. Jack looked even more worried “You didn’t have to break his nose Luke, you need to get Jennifer home, she’s soaking wet.” He’s had some training too.
On the way home Jen started crying. As usual, it was all my fault, I’d over reacted, beat up a poor harmless drunk and ruined her big night out.
“You really enjoy that kind of shit Jen? Sitting around with drunks, playing grab ass with the high rollers? What was he whispering in you ear?”
“Don’t talk to me about grab ass you bastard”
She had me there. She always will.
For awhile we were all worried that Donabedian would file assault charges and a civil suit, or send his firm’s business to a competitor, but he didn’t. Later on, Jen and I actually ran into him at the Landmark Club. He walked right up to our booth and as I began to stand up, he smiled and held his hands up and said “Please, I’m here to apologize. I could blame it on the booze but really I’m just an asshole”
He turned out to be a gracious guy. He slid into our booth, maintained a respectful distance from Jen and managed to actually address me. We let him buy us a round of drinks but refused his offer to pay for a new dress. “The dress was Popeye’s fault” Jen said. I just let that one go by.
Deep Cover was right in the middle of a Sly Stone song and I didn’t want to spoil the mood.
You got to get it straight
how could I ever be late
when you’re the woman takin’ up my time?
Chirp ”Luke, are you still there?”
Chirp ”Oh yeah the big bucks…OK Maria, I’ll call my wife.”
Not just yet though. I didn’t want to deal with that right now, I needed more information. Better to just pull the truck around and start back north on Hwy. 65. In Visalia I was able to use Kinko’s Wi-Fi to access my email. The subpoenas were in high resolution .pdf format and I was able to print them out right from my laptop. As I stapled the six page bundles together, my heart sank as I read the locations. Avenal, Coalinga, Huron, San Joaquin, Mendota and Cantua Creek.
It was almost 4:00, time to make that call. Jen picked up on the second ring.
”Hello?” -god she has a great voice-
“Hi honey, Maria called…I have to work late tonight.”
“How late is late?” -still a bit playful-
“I wish I knew babe. I’m in Visalia now but I have six subpoenas to serve out on the west side, it has to get done tonight.”
“Goddammit Luke…Maria always pulls this shit!” -not playful at all-
“I know Jen but…”
“Yeah…butt’s right. But when are you going to grow some balls and tell her to go to hell.”
“I’m sorry babe.”
“You’re always sorry Luke, sorry doesn’t mean a thing babe. How late are you going to be?”
“I’m, headed out to Coalinga and working my way back, you know how it is, I’ll be lucky to be home by eleven.”
“OK , I’ll just grab a bite after I drop Mischa off at your parents’.”
“You’re still going to drop her off Jen.?”
“Damn right. And you’re taking me out to breakfast tomorrow asshole. You owe me.”
That was a part of tonight’s problem. I felt like asking her when I would ever get paid up, if it was even possible. But I didn’t, instead I conjured up my best Big Bopper and signed off with “ahhh baby thatsa what I like!”
