Foreclosure: A Novel Read Online Free

off and laughed. “Isn’t it amazing how short people in Hollywood are? I heard that Tom Cruise is like four feet tall.”
    “Four feet?”
    She leaned forward carefully. “Don’t laugh too loud, or the scientologists will get you.” She paused, as if to prepare him for some grave truth. “I had a girlfriend up in Clearwater and you would not believe what they put her through.”
    “I guess I wouldn’t.”
    She glanced around the restaurant before continuing. “Do you believe in destiny?”
    “Destiny?”
    She nodded. “You know, like fate?”
    David started to try and distinguish his understanding of destiny from fate, but decided to save that discussion for another day. “Is this about the scientologists?”
    “I’m being honest with you. You don’t seem like most guys I know, always putting on a front. And I, well, I think it was destiny that you visited my office today.”
    “Maybe I had my reasons.”
    She shrugged. “I don’t beat around the bush. I like you. I might be a few years too old for you, but I can see myself liking you. But you’re hiding something.” She stared ahead for a moment, and David didn’t flinch. “So tell me about yourself.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Your happiest memory?”
    “Adult or childhood?”
    “Adult.”
    Too easy. “Finally having the money to buy a ’67 Stratocaster.”
    She reached across the table and took his left hand. He gripped the glass with his right. “You play?” She studied his fingers.
    “I’m impressed you know where to look for the callouses.”
    She smiled back. “I used to date a guitarist.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “What for?”
    “I know guitarists.”
    She nodded, enough said. “You still play much?”
    “Not anymore.”
    “What kind of music?”
    “Before, mainly the blues.”
    Her brow rose with surprise. “Really? You don’t seem like a bluesman.”
    He cleared his throat and belted out his best Buddy Guy: “Why can’t you see I got the blues, baby, why can’t you see what’s going on?”
    Her eyes bulged as she squeezed his hand. “Well, I never imagined that voice coming from the likes of you.”
    “Me neither,” he mumbled.
    She was almost in a trance now. “And as a child?”
    “What?”
    “Your happiest memory as a child?”
    As he carefully navigated those murky waters, another easy answer came to mind. “When I was about twelve, my dad took me into a bar in Newark where his band was playing. He couldn’t get a sitter—probably couldn’t afford one. A waitress set me up at a table all by myself, fed me Shirley Temples all night. And I watched them play a three-hour set, on a school night. And I knew that one day I wanted to be up there jamming out like that.”
    “So your dad’s a musician too?”
    “Was. He was a musician. And a damn good one. Better than I ever could be.” He took his hand back and returned it to his lap.
    “So what happened to you?”
    David smiled, shook his head, and pointed to his tie. “Life happened.”
    “Those are nice memories.” She stared into space, as if she were considering how she would have answered had someone asked her. Then she turned her gaze back to him. “Funny, I thought you’d say winning your first case.”
    “Well, given the fallout of winning my first jury trial, I don’t think I’ll put that one very high on the list.”
    She was still nodding, taking inventory of the progress she was making with her young prey. “So you’re a lawyer and a guitarist, and you just won your first jury trial. But you’re still hiding something.”
    He turned the nearly empty decanter upside down and captured the last pour of wine. “Aren’t we all? What else do you want to know?”
    “You can start by telling me why you walked into my office today.”
    “I thought it was fate. Or destiny?”
    “Maybe so. But you still had your reasons.”
    Here goes nothing. “Frank O’Reilly,” he said with the intonation of a question.
    “Oh my goodness.”