In The Plan - 21. Chapter 21

21

Actually, when he tried to be rational about it, Carleson realized the odds of him, Cowboy, and Brittany Savo all knowing each other weren't that bad. True, there were twenty million people in the New York metropolitan area, but there were only two million on Staten Island and in Nassau County combined. And when that number was narrowed to the legal profession, and considering how much the business operated through personal recommendations and word of mouth, it almost made it more of a question of "How could they not know each other?"

But it was a last-minute save, and Carleson knew to be appreciative. Still, as he, Cowboy, and Bill stood in the middle of the dark, dirt lot, shaking hands, Carleson had one unrelated question. Bill was still in awe of what had happened.

"What's with the bus, Cowboy?" Carleson asked. "If you don't mind my prying. Do you drive it in your spare time? For pick-up change?"

Cowboy was still shifting mental gears. He'd been readying for a fight, and now he was asked to be a tour guide. He could only laugh. "Nope, it's not for passengers, but yep, it's mine. I've been restoring it for years."

"Restoring?" Carleson asked.

"Yeah. C'mon in."

Cowboy took them inside the bus, and Carleson and Bill couldn't believe what they saw. The Stones or any high-end touring band would have been proud and extremely comfortable. The bus had every convenience, starting with a driver's seat upholstered in smooth black leather and embellished by an embroidered Hells Angels insignia. The steering wheel was wrapped with the same leather, and there were ten First Class-style seats in the front section of the bus. Behind the seats were cushioned couches on either side of the bus with lacquered wooden coffee tables in front of them. Plasma TVs hung from each side of the bus, and Carleson was sure there was a kick-ass sound system. In the rear of the bus was a nice-sized bedroom with another TV mounted on the wall. There was also a full bathroom, and Carleson was speechless, which Bill could have assured Cowboy was a rarity.

"God damn!" he finally said. "Can I move in?"

"You'd have to prove yourself on a bike," Cowboy answered, laughing. "And our standard's pretty high for cruddy lawyers."

"Another time," Carleson admitted. He had ridden a 'cycle in college and later. But he swapped for a bike and a car once he got married. And after he broke his arm, taking a fall.

Meanwhile, there was business to do. Carleson wanted to tell Cowboy that this trial would be different from the last, and he wanted to mean it. He wanted to say they were up against a different lawyer but couldn't even start with that. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the defense lawyer in a criminal case is different from the defendant's attorney in the related civil one - because insurance companies defending civil cases select their own attorneys. But this time, they'd chosen the same Stu Lee who'd kicked Cowboy's ass a year before.

Carleson couldn't lie to Cowboy. He couldn't completely promise things would be better. Though Lee had less experience in civil trials, he had years of practice trying difficult cases. He knew the ins and outs of the legal system. So Carleson was asking Cowboy to face the same cross-examination he had last time. Still, Carleson needed him to testify in the morning, and the first thing Cowboy would see would be Stuart Lee.

"We've got to talk," Carleson began.

"Nah, let's go see Brittany first. She works dinners and evenings, and she'll be tickled."

"You're sure? I need to talk with you, and it's gonna take some time. And I need you in court tomorrow. Are you already working?"

"I can prob'ly fix that with a call," Cowboy said, pulling out his phone.

"Let me tell you something first. We're up against the same lawyer."

"That asshole dick?"

Carleson grinned then shrugged. "I need to be slightly more respective of my esteemed colleagues."

Cowboy laughed and shoved his hand down his jeans. "Well, it seems my balls've grown back - so no real harm done. So I could prob'ly whip your esteemed asshole."

Then he held up his hand.

"But let me make a call first."

As he wandered over to a darker, though no less private part of his lot, Carleson and Bill were left alone.

"That was kind of a miracle," Bill admitted. It was the first time he'd had a chance to speak with his boss. "I'm still shaking my head."

"It's only the start of a miracle," Carleson cautioned. "We've still got a lot of work. And he can bail at any time. So let's play things as he wants."

"You don't think I'd pick a fight?"

And they laughed.

When Cowboy came back, they loaded into his pick-up and drove to Brittany's diner. "When's the last time you've seen her?" he asked Carleson.

Carleson had to think. "It has to be three years ago. I can't remember how old her daughter was. That's sometimes how I remember things."

"Marissa's ten now. I'm one of her godfathers."

"I'd heard there were a bunch of them. Did you all really pay for her operation? That was before I met Britt."

"You call her 'Britt,' too?"

"I'll bet everyone does."

"Yeah, everybody loves Britt."

In the diner, Cowboy walked in first, though Carleson immediately spotted Britt. He grinned, remembering her well-proportioned body. She wasn't wearing a floppy waitress uniform, either, but a tight-fitting T-shirt and even tighter jeans. That was Brittany Savo - as loudly dressed as her mouth. Still, she always knew how to handle clients while working at the law firm and seemed to be equally skilled with the diner crowd.

As she carried three plates on one arm and a coffee pot in her other hand, she saw and smiled at Cowboy while giving him a quizzical look. It seemed to say, "Why're you back so soon?"

Cowboy motioned her over. Britt nodded, but first served her customers, asked a couple of others if they needed anything else, then headed their way. As she neared, Cowboy stepped aside and let Brittany see Carleson. "Look what just crawled onto my property."

Britt's eyes shifted from Cowboy to Carleson and now her quizzical look turned into a huge grin. "Ben!" she shouted, which made other people in the diner turn to them. Her already wide grin got even wider, and she grabbed Carleson and hugged him. Cowboy just watched, also grinning broadly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. And before Carleson had a chance to answer, she added, "I'm so sorry. I keep meaning to stop by the office. I tell myself that every time I have an afternoon free. And then something comes up. Or something happens. Or something gets in the way."

Carleson was grinning now, too. "It's so good to see you," he said. "How are you? How's Marissa?"

Before Brittany answered that, she moved from Carleson and hugged Bill. "You're still there," she said.

"Where else would I go?" he asked. "Why would I leave?"

"I feel like nobody knows me anymore," Cowboy said, fake pouting. Carleson and Bill laughed, and Brittany hugged Cowboy, too. Then they sat at one of the tables in a booth and talked non-stop for an hour, with Brittany darting out occasionally to handle customers.

Carleson always had a great relationship with Britt. She was a hard and dedicated worker, he appreciated her efforts, and he did whatever he could to assist her progress. When they'd hugged, he'd almost laughed, remembering her perfume. It was the same scent he'd smelled during her five years in his office. Brittany was a Staten Island girl through and through. Tough on the outside but much softer on the inside, and she always took a great interest in Carleson's family, especially his kids. Britt would often chat with Edward, comparing parenting stories. Carleson did butt heads with her once in a while over office issues, but they always had mutual respect and admiration for each other. More than once, Britt commented how if things were different and Carleson wasn't married to "the best guy in the world,' they might have been something together. She was right about Edward, but Carleson wasn't sure that if he was still single - and straight - he could match Britt's energy.

After an hour's catch-up, Cowboy interrupted, saying, "I've heard a lot of people talk, but you two should get awards."

"It would be worse if his husband was here," Brittany joked, and everyone laughed at that. Then Brittany added, "It's a good thing you came at the end of dinner. It's slow. It gets busy again in a couple hours."

"We need to be getting back anyway," Carleson said, knowing he needed to ease away. "I've got to be in court in the morning, and we have business to discuss."

He looked at Cowboy, trying not to apply pressure.

"Guess I gotta go, too," Cowboy almost sighed. "Gotta think about trying not to let a really big asshole fuck me."

Brittany looked at him. She didn't seem to know what he was talking about.

"I didn't tell you the story 'cause it sucked," Cowboy quickly admitted. "But it's not gonna happen again. And the only reason I might be putting my butt out there is for you." He looked at Brittany.

At that point, Carleson smoothly promised Brittany, "We'll tell you about it when it's over. You and Marissa need to come for dinner. Edward'll be thrilled. He'll be happy to know I've seen you."

"Give him my love," Brittany said.

"I will."

"And pray for my butt," Cowboy added.

"You'll be fine," Carleson assured him. "I can't understand how you let a little guy like Lee get you the first time."

"He snuck up," Cowboy defended. "It won't happen again."

Carleson wasn't sure that meant Cowboy wouldn't testify. He hoped that wasn't true, and that's why they needed to prep. But it seemed they weren't getting out of the diner.

"You need to tell me what you're talking about," Brittany insisted. "You're not going away without that."

"Okay," Carleson allowed. "Short version. Three years ago, Cowboy was a witness to a terrible accident on Long Island. I'm representing the passenger who was seriously injured. The driver was an off-duty cop who conveniently can't remember if he was driving. The first lawyer lost the criminal trial, partly by letting Cowboy get humiliated. Now we're in the middle of a civil trial."

Brittany was a fast study and easily understood the implications.

"So this piece of shit lawyer is betting you won't get Cowboy in the box again?"

"The box" was slang for "witness stand."

"Exactly," Carleson confirmed. "I had some trouble reaching Cowboy because of what happened at the first trial. But now I'm here, and I'm hoping I can persuade him to testify tomorrow."

"Sounds like you guys need some coffee and dessert. It'll help you think. Stay."

She got up, but she wasn't letting the story get away. Carleson wanted to resist, but Cowboy seemed fine with it, so they stayed.

"Still apple pie with whip cream, Bill?" Brittany asked before she moved toward the kitchen.

"You betcha, Britts," replied Bill.

And they sat till midnight, working things out. Cowboy talked about everything from his time with Hells Angels to the night he nearly died in the collision. He emphasized the good work he'd done with the Angels, including charity events he ran for various children's organizations. And he repeatedly blamed "the asshole lawyer" in the criminal trial for not protecting him on the stand.

"Jenkins?" Carleson asked.

"Yeah, I couldn't remember that fucker's name."

"He's not a bad guy, really," Carleson carefully pointed out. He didn't want Cowboy to think all lawyers were fools.

"Well, he didn't protect me, and I was his own guy - his witness. At least the other asshole..."

"Lee..."

"Yeah - he had an excuse. It was his job to get his grubby little Bulldog teeth on my balls and not let go." He explained to Brittany. "He kept saying all Angels hated cops, and I was an Angel, so I wanted to kill all cops. And the asshole Jerkins sat there with his dick up his ass."

There seemed no point in Carleson's correcting Jenkins' name, but Brittany did. Cowboy smiled at her, shrugged his maybe purposeful mistake off, and carried on.

"Well, that guy could've done his job much better. He could've asked me questions about my friends who were cops. About how we've raised money for the same organizations they support, and how I work all the time with cops - I've even worked on their homes. They're some of my clients. Instead, he let me look like Dr. Death."

They all laughed at that, and Brittany poured Cowboy more coffee. She'd kept a pot on the table.

"Well, tomorrow," Cowboy said to Carleson, "if I do this, and Asshole starts asking again, you've got to make it clear I never knew the guy driving that car was a cop. That I'd never seen him before - not before the almost accident. And I never saw a picture of him on any TV or in some newspaper. But once I looked straight at him from the stand, I just saw those eyes and knew, 'Yeah,' this is the shithead who nearly smashed me to Hell.'"

"Calm down," Brittany told him quietly. "No one's gonna hurt you."

Cowboy looked at her, then took a moment to breathe.

"I think I'm over it," he admitted, "then I'm not. I'd just like to get in a fair fight with that dickhead."

"Which one?" Brittany joked. "Which lawyer?"

"Neither," Cowboy said, grinning. "The cop." He thought about that for a moment. "But you could bring on all three of 'em - tag team against me - and I'd wipe 'em out, one-by-one."

"Preferably not in the courtroom," Carleson inserted. And they all laughed.

"Nah, my rowdy days are over," Cowboy promised. "'Least I hope so."

Still, he seemed positive the civil trial would be just as bad as the criminal one, though Carleson assured and assured him, "I'll run interference for you. I'll have a far better offensive than Damon Jenkins even thought to - or tried." And Brittany assured Cowboy, "I've seen this guy in court. He's not gonna let you down." But Cowboy wasn't buying.

What could Carleson do? Beg? He wouldn't do that. He could only be very honest.

"My client needs you," he said. "Doug Hodges. Doug came far closer to being killed that night than you did - and I don't mean to soft-sell anything you went through. But Doug's still in pain - sometimes more than he can handle. And he still suffers memory loss - a bit. They'll always be with him. They're not going away. And this is his chance... not to get revenge... but to at least get someone to acknowledge what he went through."

"I understand all that," Cowboy said. "I really do. And ya got my sympathy." Then he hesitated, staring at Brittany. "But it's still my ass."

"But it's a really hot ass," Brittany cracked, something Carleson would never say, no matter what he thought. And even after the hours in the diner that night, Carleson left thinking Cowboy's chances of showing up the next day were 50-50.