unannounced. “Like I said, I’ve got to get to work.”
He gave her an oily smile. “This will only take a minute.” Then, with a nod at the sofa, he said, “Mind if I sit down?”
Jenny shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have-”
But Gordo ignored her. He plopped down and wiggled himself into the cushions, then patted the spot next to him. “Sit down, please.”
Jenny folded her arms across her chest. “I told you I’m on my way to work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
The fat man leaned back. “Ms. Porter, as I said, I represent a group of medical providers.”
“Which ones?”
“Mid-City Medical Center, Stafford Nursing Services, and Medico Equipment Rentals.” The names rolled off his tongue like a used-car salesman. “You owe them a total of forty-eight thousand dollars.”
“Are you some kind of collection agent?” She glanced at his business card in her hand. HIRAM L. GORDO, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
She had not known many lawyers, but the ones she had known looked a lot more… respectable. “You’re a lawyer?” she said.
“My firm specializes in the collection of bad debt.”
“Bad debt?”
He gave her a thin smile. “It’s a term we use for debts that are more than ninety days past due. I don’t mean to be offensive.”
“I’m not offended,” she said. “I don’t care what you call it, but I’m not paying them any more money.”
“Ms. Porter, my clients, in the spirit of cooperation and fairness, went to the trouble of working out a very reasonable payment plan for you, but you haven’t been making your payments.”
“Nine hundred dollars a month isn’t what I call reasonable.”
He ignored her. “My clients have sent you letters of delinquency by certified mail, they’ve called you, they’ve done everything possible before contacting my firm for collection. However, now that it’s been turned over to me, I intend to collect.”
“I put my mother in the hospital so they could help her. Instead, they killed her.”
“Ms. Porter, that’s a matter that you should take up with an attorney who specializes in malpractice. My only concern is the unpaid debt.”
“You think it’s fair what they did?” she asked. “They let my mother die, and they charged me seventy-five thousand dollars to do it.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here. It’s because those sons of bitches care more about collecting bills than they do about helping sick people.”
“I don’t think that’s fair or even accurate.”
“No, of course you don’t. You’re just here to collect the blood money.” Jenny felt her emotions starting to take control. “You’re worse than them.”
“Let’s get back to your problem,” Gordo said. “Normally, I give notice by certified mail. If after thirty days I haven’t received payment, then I file suit.”
She stared down at him. “You file whatever you want. I’m not paying them any more money for killing my mother.”
“The records show that you’ve already paid twenty-seven thousand dollars, but it’s been almost a year since your last payment. All I’m asking is that you resume making your payments.”
“I’m not paying your clients another fucking dime.”
“You’re not going to have a choice, Ms. Porter. When I sue you, I’ll get a judgment, and then I’ll file liens on your property, garnish your wages, whatever I have to do to serve my clients.”
“Go to hell…” She glanced at the card. “… Mr. Gordo.” Jenny pointed to the door. “And get out of my apartment.”
Hiram Gordo sprang to his feet, surprising her with his speed. She tried to step back, but the back of her legs bumped the coffee table and stopped her. The lawyer grabbed her arm.
Jenny tried to pull away, but his fat fist held her tight. “Maybe we can… work something out that’s mutually satisfying to both of us.”
She looked into Gordo’s swollen face, at the thin line of sweat beaded above his upper lip. “What do you mean?”
The putrid stench of his breath washed over her face as he pulled her closer to him with his right hand, while the fingers of his left hand stroked her arm. “I mean maybe we can do something for each other. Quid pro quo, as it were.”
She jerked her arm free and upended the coffee table as she backed away from him. “Get out!” she shouted, jabbing her finger at the door.
Gordo smiled again. “You don’t really want me to leave, do you?”
She exaggerated a glance at the closed door to her bedroom, trying to draw his attention to it. “I live with someone.”
The fat belly jiggled as Gordo laughed. “You live alone, Ms. Porter.”
Again she looked at the closed door and wished there really were someone in there to help her throw this pig out. She kept backing away, still trying to bluff. “If you don’t leave right now, my boyfriend is going to come out here and kick your ass.”
“My investigator has been watching you.”
“Watching me,” she said, suddenly sick to her stomach.
“I thought it would be a good idea to know more about you.” His face cracked into a smile. “I know you live alone, I know where you work, and I know what you do for a living.” He chuckled.
“You’re looking for a freebie?”
“Forty-eight thousand dollars, Ms. Porter, it’s a lot of money. I can help you.”
She backed toward the kitchen, thinking of things she could use as weapons-knives, forks, the steel pot sitting on the drain board.
Gordo followed her.
“Help me with what?” she asked. Keep him talking. It would give her time to think.
“I can get you an extension,” he said, stalking toward her. “Maybe work out easier payments.”
“And what do you want?”
Her back bumped into the wall between the den and kitchen. Gordo laughed, then reached out and caressed her cheek. “I think you know what I want.”
He grabbed her arms and pinned them against her sides. He leaned forward and kissed her. Jenny twisted her face away and ducked. She tried to slide under his arm, but he held her against the wall with his big belly.
With her back braced, Jenny drove her right knee up into the fat man’s balls. The lawyer grunted but didn’t let go of her. Near panic, she again slammed her knee into his crotch. Another grunt, but the fat man still wouldn’t let go.
She felt his hand on her shoulder, felt his thumb pressing into the hollow just behind her collarbone. He was trying to drive her to the floor.
“You can do it on your knees if you like,” he said.
Jenny twisted her neck and sank her teeth into his thumb. She tasted his blood in her mouth. Gordo screamed, a high-pitched wail, like a young girl. As he jerked his hand away from her shoulder, Jenny twisted under his arm and dashed into the kitchen. He stumbled after her. “You bitch!” he screamed.
She made it to the countertop next to the stove just as he grabbed a handful of her hair. Gordo yanked her head back, but Jenny’s hand closed on the handle of a steak knife, part of a set of six, the handles sticking out of a wooden block. He pulled her back and down, trying to drag her to the floor, but she kept her feet under her and didn’t fall. Instead she spun toward him and stabbed at his chest. He saw it coming and twisted away at the last second. The blade stabbed through his sleeve and dug into the flab of his upper arm.
He backhanded her across the face and jumped away, grabbing at the hole in his jacket. Jenny held the knife in both hands, the point up, aimed at his face. “Get out of my house.”
