The Juke (Changes Book 2) Page 4

  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He winced at her arrogant sarcasm and her leering smile. She scratched her pen across a long white form with yellow copy underneath. She tore the yellow copy off and handed it to the clerk next to her. “Bond is set for five thousand dollars. The case will be referred to the district attorney. Mr. Joseph, when you bond out, be advised that you are responsible for appearing at subsequent hearings. I do highly advise you to consider hiring an attorney. A man of your means can certainly afford representation.”

  There was no clack of the gavel. The bailiff simply turned Frank by his chain and pointed him to another deputy who stood near a side exit. He moved toward him, and the deputy took his arm and moved him through the door. Beyond the door was a short hallway and then a glassed window. An officer appeared, and his shackles were removed. He was handed his clothes and personal items, which he signed for. He was pointed to another window, where he used a credit card in his wallet to charge his bond.

  “Has my friend Tony Santos come through this morning?” he asked.

  “Move along, sir,” the man behind the glass commanded and then returned to the magazine in front of him.

  He was glad to shed the orange jumpsuit, covered in his rough, dried blood. He didn’t immediately put on his clothes. He stood there in his white briefs, examining himself in a long, pitted mirror in the changing room. The frightful visage reflected in it shocked him. He stepped to it and touched his heavily swollen left eye with his right hand. He pushed on it gingerly, trying to see the white beneath the swelling. He managed to see dark red only, and pressing more was too painful. He gently curled up his smashed, swollen lip to see the split tissue on the inside. His front teeth still felt loose. He attempted to remove the elastic and gauze bandages on his left arm, but they were clipped tightly, and any pressure was too much to bear. He would need a cast, he knew.

  He stepped back from the mirror and examined the rest of his body. Besides his soft paunch and white skin, he had black and green bruises on his legs, arms, sides, and hips. They were long and slender, matching the baton that made them. He could feel each stroke as he viewed them in the mirror. He looked like someone who had crashed a motorcycle or fallen off a building. He carefully pulled on his clothing and winced often as those clothes slid over bruises, cuts, and swollen tissue. Pulling with his left hand was impossible, so he had to adjust with his right often. The Joe Montana home white jersey looked ridiculous on him now, and Red’s brownish dried blood stood out in thick blotches. He couldn’t slip on his jacket as his left hand wouldn’t fit through the sleeve, so he carried it out.

  Once dressed, he looked very much the same, minus the swollen eye and lip, and the heavily bandaged left arm. However, the image in the mirror was very much a new man. He was different now, and he knew it. He was not the same man who met Tony at the bar a half-day before. External and internal bruises and deep, rutted scarring. He was scarred in a way he wouldn’t fully comprehend for some time. He only knew that the face looking back at him was changed. He was as a man arising from the dead, unable to forget the Hell he was returned from. Once seen, Hell cannot be unseen.

  Outside the changing room he signed a few more forms, which directed his appearance at hearings. He was handed several copies of other forms and then was shown to the exit. He folded the forms with one hand, shoved them in his pocket, and stepped outside.

  The glare of the morning sun stung his good eye. He had no car waiting for him, and he was downtown. He watched the commuters go by for a few moments. He had no idea how he would get home and wondered if his wife knew where he was. He didn’t see a payphone.

  By the time Trenton Yamaguchi picked him up, it was almost noon.

  “Frank, oh my God.”

  “Hi, Trenton. Yeah, I’m in bad shape. Just drive.” He struggled with the seatbelt, but the leather seat felt smooth under him.

  The BMW moved out of the gas station and out into traffic.

  “Thanks for coming to get me. I didn’t know whom else to call. When I was finally able to speak with Shelly, she said they impounded my car, and I couldn’t walk to the impound lot. Probably couldn’t drive in this shape anyway.”

  “Of course, Frank. No problem.” He felt his friend’s eyes examining him.

  As they moved through the one-way streets toward the highway, Frank was glad to be leaving the downtown. He tried to unwrap his hand again, but it was still too painful. His fingers on this hand were black to the middle knuckles. He heard himself hiss with each frustrating effort. The throbbing was intensifying and it was hot from the swelling.

  “Frank, I have something I have to talk with you about. I hope you don’t mind. I know you have a lot to deal with already.”

  “What?” Frank turned in the passenger seat and regarded him. Trenton turned to look at him and smiled when their eyes met. He turned back to the road.

  “After you called me, I called Pastor Probst and told him about your arrest. He asked me to talk with you about it.”

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “Well, he’s worried what the congregation will think if they find out about what happened.”

  “Like I told you on the phone, it was self-defense in the bar, and then the cop just attacked me for no reason. I’m going to win this case and then sue the hell out of the sheriff’s department.” He gave up fumbling with his bandages and just left them.

  “I’m not judging, Frank. We all get put in bad situations sometimes. I’m just telling you what our pastor said. We’ve worked so hard to make First United Church something special. We don’t want to have people questioning one of our most senior deacons…”

  “I’m innocent, Trenton. Did you guys talk about that?”

  “Frank, please…don’t lash out at me. I’m just telling you what the pastor said.”

  “Go on, then.” Frank felt nauseated.

  “Well, he asked me to ask you if you wouldn’t mind staying clear of the church for a few weeks. We have that big fundraising push over these next two weeks and then The Bee is doing the story for the Sunday section. Maybe after that you could come back.” He turned his face to him and smiled as if it was already agreed.

  “Maybe?”

  “Well, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that if you wait until those things get behind us, it would be a better time…”

  “Trenton, no offense, but that’s absolute crap. I’m innocent, as I said. I have been with First United since we worked out of that warehouse on Watt Avenue. I helped build the church membership…”

  “Nobody is…”

  “Wait a damned minute, Trenton, you are…you very much are! Remember me? I helped design that giant black and gold building. I helped choose the illuminated cross. I tithe ten percent of my gross income upfront and you have always counted on me to provide extra. I’m in for over one hundred grand over the last five years alone, plus what I’ve done to get others to contribute…”

  “You’ve been at the vanguard since the beginning, Frank. That’s not what we mean…”

  “The hell it isn’t, Trenton. You’re embarrassed by this incident. You’re worried it’ll hurt donations. You’re worried I’m a liability. You haven’t thought twice about all the work I’ve done or all the money I’ve contributed. You’re worried about getting more money moving forward…”

  “You know this is a tough stretch for us, Frank. You know that…”

  “I do…I’ve been helping you plan for the last year. I’ve given everything to this church. My family has been in this church longer than you have…”

  “And everybody appreciates what you have done. Please calm down, Frank…”

  Voice raised. “Calm down? I’ve been a church leader from the start. I’ve donated a small fortune. I’ve brought hundreds of people to First United. Then I get falsely accused of a crime and you’re telling me to stay away? I might hurt your image?”

  “No, Frank…don’t put words into my mouth…”

  �
�What is it then?”

  “As I said, this is a tough patch for us…we just don’t need any negative publicity. It could hurt our fundraising and then we might not be able to pay for the landscaping project. You know how critical that is.”

  “Yeah, the landscaping project is important. But without me you wouldn’t even have that giant black and gold building. You wouldn’t have people driving by and seeing that amazing structure…seeing God’s church on the highway. Landscaping? You’d all be back in the warehouse if it wasn’t for me.”

  “And everybody knows that, Frank. We know you’ve been so critical to our rapid growth. And the new building. We just don’t want to see your good work go to waste. I’m sure all this will blow over, but in the meantime we just want you to lay low.” He wasn’t turning to look at Frank anymore, and Frank knew it was intentional. He could feel the scalding anger boiling inside him.

  “That’s it then. I need to hide out. Stay away from church.”

  “Just for the next few weeks.”

  “You know, Trent, when I sat in that disgusting cell last night, just before the deputy beat me bloody and broke my arm, all I could think about was getting back to the House of God. Singing hymns. Praying. Feeling the Spirit move through me. That’s all I thought about…even before my family.”

  “Frank, it’s just a couple of weeks…”

  “No, it’s not.” Frank saw that they were a block away from his home.

  “C’mon, Frank…”

  “It’s not a couple weeks.”

  “Seriously…just until after The Bee spread.”

  “No, it’s much more than that.” His voice was soft now, his gaze out the window.

  “I don’t understand you…”

  “Trenton, if Pastor Probst, you, and First United turn your back on me now, I’m done. Do you hear me?”

  “Frank, c’mon, man…don’t be childish…”

  “No, you c’mon. If you’re not going to support one of your most senior deacons in his time of need, then I have just realized this church is not about serving God’s will. Would Jesus turn his back on a man in his hour of need?”

  “Of course not, and neither are we. Hate the sin, love the sinner…” Trenton said, as he pulled up to the front of Frank’s large brick home. A dog barked nearby.

  “Well, I have a message for you and Pastor Probst.” Frank pushed his right hand forward, and his middle finger nearly touched Senior Deacon Yamaguchi’s nose. He blinked hard at it, but didn’t react, as much as Frank wanted him to. Frank regarded the eyes staring at his finger. Empty. Dispassionate. Dead. How he himself was feeling inside at that moment. The eyes reflect the soul, he thought. He also knew he was walking down a path from which he would not return. A singular, narrow path. Narrow is the gate. Though he had no idea how accurate that was, he was beginning to understand. The door was cracked open, and he could see what was ahead. Dark clouds. Detritus. Death. The scattered rubble of once-proud homes. Bones turning to ash.

  “Frank…”

  “No, fuck you, man. I guess you find out who your true friends are when you’re at your lowest.” He opened the door, stepped out, and closed it with a bit more force than he had intended. He didn’t look back as he walked up to his house. He heard the BMW drive away.

  As he neared the door, he stopped. He regarded the house.

  V

  Terry Lawrence motioned Frank to the chair in front of his large polished wood desk. He was turned sideways, finishing his phone call, one foot up on an opened bottom drawer. Fumbling at first with his cast, Frank pulled the door closed behind him, moved to a chair, and sat.

  “Yes, senator, we’ll be sure to contribute again. We’ve always got your back…”

  Frank looked around Terry’s office, casting his eyes to the plaques and mementos he had seen hundreds of times. They had worked together for years, but he knew this would be the last time they would be together in this room. He saw the folded Sacramento Bee on his desk. He had been mildly surprised they had used his mug shot in the paper. So much for privacy. Though it had been three weeks and his physical wounds were mostly healed, minus the cast on his arm, he had known the day would come when he would have to answer for the event.

  “Okay, senator. No problem. See you at the Capitol Ball next week. Give Carolyn my best.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to Frank. Terry was his friend, but he had no illusions about what this meeting was about. He knew what he would have done in his place.

  He was a bit surprised, though, when Terry got up and came around the other side of the desk. He pulled the other chair sideways and sat facing him. He was still flashing his million-dollar smile, emphasized by his tanning salon glow and cosmetic dentistry. Terry pulled on his cufflinks to adjust his monogramed shirt under his suit jacket. His guise was always on here in the office.

  “Hey Frank, thanks for coming in. How are you?” Eye contact, face tilted to show concern.

  “Well, mostly healed…just the arm…” and he held up the cast. His left sleeve was open around it.

  “Shelly and the kids doing well?” Working through the concern checklist.

  “Yeah, all things considered.” He hated this dance and just wanted to get it over with.

  “Yeah, I see what you mean.” Terry looked down at his shoes for a second.

  “Look, Terry, I know why you called me in. I understand. I saw the article. I get the position you’re in.”

  He saw relief all over Terry’s face. “Yeah, thanks, Frank. This isn’t easy. You and I have been friends a long time.”

  “Sure, we both climbed up out of middle management together. You and I took this place out of the mainframe age.”

  “We did, Frank. We certainly did.” Warm, reassuring smile.

  “Don’t worry, Terry…I understand what you have to do. I know you met with the board last night. I completely understand. I guess I just need to know the particulars.”

  “Particulars?”

  “Well, I’m hoping you’ll send me off with a reference. And, of course, there’s my severance package. I need to transition, and need some time, especially while I fight these charges.”

  “Yeah, see…that’s the issue…” Now he was staring at his expensive shoes.

  “What’s the issue? My severance package?”

  “Yeah. The board directed me to withhold any severance. I’m sorry…”

  “Why? It’s in my contract.”

  “Yes, I know…this is tough, Frank…” His eyes flicked up, met Frank’s, and then were right back down to his shoes.

  “Tough? Yeah, no shit. So how could they deny me a severance? You and I negotiated these contracts together…”

  “You see, it’s the officer clause in your contract. They said that since you are an officer of the company, your misconduct—their word, not mine—precluded the award of a severance.”

  “How is that even legal?”

  “Well, they’re serious about this, because they don’t want anybody to think you cashed out on the way out…they’re worried it would reflect on them…the optics in the community.”

  “But I have to find another job, Terry. We built in a one-year severance so we could transition. This is bullshit and you know it!” The math was beginning to become more challenging for him.

  “I totally understand your anger, Frank. I don’t like it either. But this is a board decision, and they’ve already conferred with the legal team. They think they’ll win, and it’s a lot of money.”

  “Goddamned right, it’s a lot of money, Terry….goddamned right…”

  Terry looked up. He had never seen Frank flushed, angry, and swearing.

  “So what am I supposed to use to pay my mortgage, Terry? How the hell do I feed my family?”

  “I’m sorry, Frank…there’s nothing I can do about it. Surely you’ve saved…”

  “I have, but I give a lot to my church, and much of it is in investment accounts…401ks and bond funds. I can’t just pull that out
. Plus, I have legal fees, pending the hearing. I need that money. This is unbelievable…”

  “I’m sorry, Frank. There is nothing I can do. I fought for you…I want you to know that. They were adamant and unanimous. No severance, and they want you out today.” He reached over and put his hand on Frank’s knee. They made eye contact. “I want you to know that I personally am so sorry. You’ve always been a true friend, and you’re a fantastic leader. It’ll be so hard to replace you.”

  “I guess you have it pretty tough, huh?” His snide tone wasn’t lost on Terry.

  “Frank, let’s not do this. I understand you’re hurt…”

  “No, Terry, you don’t understand. I figured I had a year to get things together. Now I’m walking out with nothing. Everything I have worked for is gone.”

  “I understand…”

  “The fuck if you do!” Frank bolted up, erect as a post, back of his knees pushing his chair back. He stood over his friend, looking down. What he saw surprised him. A flash of panic. As if he expected Frank to throw a punch at him. That told him everything he needed to know. And for a moment he liked the power. He liked that his friend feared him and perhaps felt him dangerous now. Respect of some kind, anyway…better than no respect at all. At that moment, it was enough. It would have to do.

  Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked to the door. He didn’t acknowledge Terry’s admin, instead walking with pace two doors down to his own office. On his desk was an empty box. Someone put that there while he was meeting with Terry.

  “Motherfuckers…” he hissed under his breath.

  He packed his pictures, diplomas, and a few files. He took the elevator down, left his keys and ID badges at the front desk, and then loaded the box in his trunk. He never set foot in that building again. He started the car and moved out of the parking lot. He was lost in a forest of thoughts, trying to find a path, but with no success. Instead, he now felt there was no path, and he felt desperate. He had never been lost before. He had always had a plan. Ever since he was a young man, he had always wanted to do exactly what he had been doing…up until that moment in his life. He had pictured himself successful. He had pictured himself well-dressed and professional. His self-image had been exactly what he had built, now cracked and threatening to fall to pieces.