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Alcoholism, prison, and rehab?“It’s a long story,” I answered, like a red flag on steroids.
“Well, I should be going.” Maya walked to her car. “It was nice meeting you, TJ.”
Blue Streak smiled her regret. “Nice meeting you.”
Strawberry Blonde smirked. “Later, dude.”
•••
By the time I got back to the conference room, the meeting was over and the lawyers were leaving. I read Gabby’s expression, which was grim. I put a hand on her shoulder. “What happened? It was okay that I left, wasn’t it?”
“Sure, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I could have danced naked and it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“How so? You did a great job with the presentation.”
“Thanks.” Gabby leaned against the conference table.
“So what’d they say? What happened?”
“I can tell you whatdidn’thappen. Nobody offered any money.”
“Did you expect them to?”
“No, but I had hope. They have the money, they did wrong, and they should pay. It’s the right thing to do. Instead they’re going to delay, hoping I give up.”
“They don’t know my sister.” I started packing the trial bag.
“No, they don’t.” Gabby shouldered her purse, flashing a defiant smile. “I won’t give up.”
“Wewon’t give up.”
“Damn right.”
I picked up the bag and put an arm around her. “Say it with me, Gab. ‘We shall fight on the beaches.’ ”
“ ‘We shall fight on the landing grounds.’ ”
“ ‘We shall fight…’ ” We walked out of the room finishing Churchill’s speech, drummed into us verbatim. Gabby felt buoyed, but I knew better. The other side had money and might. All she had was me, and I wasn’t enough.
Strawberry Blonde knew that just by looking.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
That night at home, I sat in front of my laptop, wolfing down a cheese-and-pickle sandwich for dinner. I’d spent the day looking over my shoulder, wondering if I was being followed. I felt the presence of the bug underneath the couch and wondered who was listening in, and why. Mango lurked there in her lair, having had her shot and flaked tuna, which reeked. Whoever invented air freshener had a cat.
I couldn’t shake off my mood, discouraged after the lawyer meeting and Maya’s rejection in the parking lot. I needed a job other than being Gabby’s sidekick. I’d never applied for one before, and my only work experience was at Devlin & Devlin, after school and every summer.
I logged on to the website of the Pennsylvania Bar Association, figuring I could be a real paralegal. I clickedJob Seekers, plugged inparalegal, and clickedSearch. The screen filled with positions, and I clicked the first one:legal assistant for the City of Philadelphia. I skimmed the requirements and stopped at BA/BS/undergraduate. I clicked the next few positions. All required a college degree.
I changed the job title toexecutive assistant, then hitSearch. Everyone required a bachelor’s degree. I triedsecretaryand hitSearch. The jobs didn’t require a college degree, but a typing speed of ninety words per minute, which I didn’t have.
I went to Monster.com and plugged ininvestigator. A list piled onto the screen: field investigator, pharmaceutical technical investigator, investigator network services, research investigator, employee relations investigator, and fraud investigator. All required a bachelor’s degree or “equivalent.” There was no listing for sinecure.
I triedprivate investigator, which didn’t require a college degree, but a PI license. I navigated to find the requirements and found they were three years of experience as a law enforcement agent or an employee of a detective agency. Plus I was disqualified because of a criminal conviction.
What class?
I couldn’t forget Maya’s question. The obvious answer for me was to go back to school and get my degree, but it felt strange, at my age. I navigated to the Penn State website and clickedtuition. A grid came alive with campus locations and residency. I pickedBrandywine, thenPA resident, then got the bad news. The tuition was $15,476, and I didn’t have five grand, much less fifteen.
