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“It’s not bullshit. A young man lost his life, and Vance Oil is responsible for his death.”
“Not according to an outside consulting company we hired to investigate Mrs. Houston’s baseless claims,” he remarked, pulling out a thick manila folder from his briefcase. He dropped it onto my desk with a loud thud. “Everything is fucking there. Also, here’s the video,” he said, throwing a thumb drive on top.
“You hired the best consulting firm in the business. That must’ve cost Vance Oil an arm and a leg,” I bemused, flipping open the folder.
“The nominal fee is an arm and a leg toyou. A fee like that would take your little backwoods practice under.”
I smirked as I skimmed through the highlights.
“I don’t know, Walter. I do all right.”
I was flushed with cash, especially after winning Anthony’s lawsuit against the negligent transportation company. I could retire if I wanted to, but I loved my job too much.
He snorted. “Doubt it. As you can see, Mr. Houston failed to properly abide by the lockout/tagout procedures when he failed to implement a zero-energy check, which ultimately led to Mr. Houston being electrocuted. Stop wasting our fucking time with this bullshit case.”
My eyes ticked to Kierra. She was visibly crushed, but I ensured my demeanor remained relaxed. I still believed we had the upper hand.
“You wouldn’t mind if we hired a consulting firm of our own, would you?”
“It’s your money to waste, but in good faith, Vance Oil is prepared to offer a minimal settlement of $50,000.00 so that we can finally put this to rest and move on.”
Mr. Burgess dropped a sealed envelope with Vance Oil’s logo in the top right corner and Kierra’s full name printed across the front onto the coffee table before her.
“No,” Kierra said firmly, sliding the envelope back to him.
He shot her a slick grin. “How does the saying go? Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face? Take the money and use it for something that’ll benefit you. You can pay off debts, use it to buy a house, or save it for your daughter’s education. I assure you; this is all you’ll be getting from Vance Oil.”
“You can take that check and shove it up your ass,” Kierra spat.
He laughed darkly and clapped his hands together. “I get it now,” he said, voice oozing with venom. “The two of you are fucking.”
“Walter!” I snapped.
“You have to be because you’re willing to put your blind faith in this man over a case he has no hope of winning,” he continued.
Kierra crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “Just because that’s how you get down doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”
“Walter, if there’s nothing else, then I suggest you leave,” I urged, starting to lose the last shred of patience I clung to.
“Gladly. Let me know how you wish to proceed after completing your external investigation.” He started for the door and walked back in Kierra’s direction. He reached inside his $10,000 suit and produced a business card. “Call me, Mrs. Houston, if you want to discuss the settlement further. I can take you somewhere you might be comfortable, like Applebee’s or Chili’s—don’t worry, it’s on me,” he laughed, exchanging the envelope for his card.
“Fuck you, you troll-looking motherfucker,” Kierra sneered.
“Troll or not, the offer is still on the table. See you around, Jon. Oh,” he said, pausing at the door. “Tell Eliza I said hello.”
I rolled my eyes as he left, laughing down the hall like some demented supervillain. He thought he would hurt me with that last comment.
The joke’s on him.
“Are you okay, Kierra?”
“I can’t stand that motherfucker,” she glowered.
“Yeah, most people can’t. I’m surprised no one has taken him out yet.”
“It’s not fair,” she cried. “Good people die every day and then…then we’re left with-with garbage to deal with.”
That’s a fair analogy.
