Dead Ringer

“Well, I am positively caliente today. Check me out.” Sam swiveled his skinny shoulders. “Hugo jacket, Versace shirt, Ralph pants. Now that I’m out of the closet, I’m fierce. I’m flaming. I’m Bankruptcy Queen.”

Bennie smiled. “I remember when you had to hide your love away.”

“The dark ages. I couldn’t believe they fell for my straight act. I thought only the army had that kind of denial. Or Liza Minnelli.”

They both laughed, and Bennie felt her tension ebb away. The only good thing about getting older was that you got to have old friends.

“Now, what’s going on, honey?” Sam inched forward on his chair. “What’s the matter?”

“Alice is in town.”

“The bitch is back?” Sam’s tiny eyes blinked behind his tiny glasses, and Bennie began the story, telling about the missing wallet, the double packages, and the diamond earrings, while Sam grew more and more upset, reddening under his freckles. He barely waited for her to finish before he exploded. “Why the fuck is she doing this to you? You didn’t do anything to deserve this! All you ever did was help her! Why, for fuck’s sake?” Sam was never on a curse diet. “She came out of nowhere, charged with murder, and you proved she was innocent!”

“I agree, but God knows how she sees it, or me. She’s a mess. She’s a damaged person.”

“Damaged, what does she have to be damaged about?”

“Maybe being put up for adoption instead of me?” Bennie had wondered about it. Their mother, alone with limited emotional and financial resources, couldn’t handle raising both of the children she had borne, and had kept Bennie. It had to hurt. “Maybe she felt abandoned. After all, my mother chose me over her.”

“Don’t even tell me you feel guilty about that.”

“I do, a little. Sure.”

“What? Why? Let’s review. You got the family with the sick mom-God rest her soul, but she was very sick-and the father who splits at birth. You raised yourself, put yourself through college and law school, and managed to take care of your mother, too. On the other hand, Alice got the nuclear family in north Jersey, with the Eldorado.”

“I don’t know about the Eldorado.” Bennie couldn’t laugh, but it was partly true. Alice had told Bennie that her adoptive parents had been wonderful to her, but she just never felt that she belonged with them.

“Okay, I’ll betcha. Now, who got the good childhood?”

“I did. I knew my mother, and Alice didn’t,” Bennie answered, and Sam fell uncharacteristically silent. “She was a loving, wonderful mother before she became completely depressed. It was like watching the sun set on someone, and part of her depression had to be the pain of giving up Alice, and the guilt. Nobody gives up a child without losing something.” Bennie wished away the weight on her chest, even as she knew it wouldn’t leave. “Anyway, enough. I’ll deal with Alice. You tell me what to do about my business. Frankly, I’m going broke.”

“It’s about time you told me.”

“How did you know?”

“Please, I’m a bankruptcy lawyer, you think I don’t know?” Sam’s phone started ringing but he let his secretary pick up. “Small business is in big trouble in this economy. I read that Caveson and Maytel filed, and I knew they were your house clients. Also, you haven’t called for two months, so I know you’re in trouble. You’re the only friend who calls when she doesn’t need anything, and avoids me when she needs help.”

Bennie found a smile. “Well, here I am. I have to stay open for business, plus I have to ante up thirty grand to buy into a class action.”

“You doing class-action work?”

“I am now. Or I was. This representation will save my ass, if I can keep it. So I guess I need bankruptcy advice.”

“No, you need cash, and lots of it. Fast. That’s easy.” Sam reached inside his Hugo/Versace/Ralph jacket and extracted his checkbook. “I’ll give it to you.”

“No, put your money away.” Bennie had known he’d offer, but she wouldn’t mooch from her best friend. “I won’t take it.”

“Don’t be silly!” Sam leaned forward on his glass desk and started to scribble out a check. “How much do you need? Fifty grand will do it, to start. That will cover the thirty grand you need for the class action, plus your office rent and overhead for the next few months.”

“Try years, but it’s out of the question.”

“Tarnation, Bennie! I won’t miss it. The economy goes in the tank, and bankruptcy lawyers get flush.” Sam threw his hands up in the air. “I just bought the new 500S, the one with the all-wood package, and the second condo is paid off. I’m having one of the best years I’ve ever had, and I owe you. You stuck by me when I wasn’t sticking by myself. You got me back on the straight and narrow, remember? Well, the narrow anyway.”

Bennie remembered. “I didn’t do it for payback, and I won’t take your money. I won’t cash the check.”

“I’m not listening.” Sam was about to tear the completed check out when Bennie snatched the checkbook and chucked it across the room. It bounced off of Daffy Duck, knocked him into the furry lap of Foghorn Leghorn, and landed on the handmade Heriz rug.

“Oops! ‘Ah say, Ah say, Widow Brown,’” Bennie said, doing a lousy Foghorn Leghorn, and Sam shushed her.

“I don’t see why you don’t just take my money.” He was hurrying across the rug to the windowsill, where he righted Daffy and retrieved his checkbook from the rug. “You can pay it back if it makes you feel better.”

“No thanks. Now, are you gonna give me some free legal advice or do I have to find myself another bankruptcy duck?”

“You mean, treat you like a client?” Sam went to his desk, tossed his checkbook on the desk, and flopped into his black leather chair. “That’s why you came to me?”

“Yes. I have to stay in business until this class action settles. I have a house, an old Saab, and a golden retriever. I need only the golden.”

“God knows why.” Sam shuddered. “Dog sheds like a mother.”

“It’s part of his charm.”

“Before we begin, what did your accountant say about all this?” Sam slid out of his jacket, hung it around the back of his chair, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. A fashionably oversized watch looked like a weight on his wrist. “You hired an accountant, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t afford one. It’s a catch- 22.”

“You need an accountant. You can hardly add.”

“It’s all subtracting anyway.” Bennie edged forward on the chair. “So, be my lawyer. I’m going to my last resort. What do you think?”

Sam’s eyes flared in alarm. “Don’t be insane. There has to be money in the business.”

“There isn’t. And no bank will give me another business loan, with my payment record. I’ve gone from slow pay to crack addict.”

Sam frowned. “You know, you’re a great lawyer, but you don’t have a head for this. How much money do you need to get through the next month? How much do you pay in salary, legal and support staff? Are you current on your taxes? On withholding payments? Status on credit cards, business and personal? What are your accounts receivable?”

Bennie’s mind reeled.

“Have you gotten all the bills out you should have? Can you offer a discount for payment in seven days? Can you make commitments to work on fee arrangements which may not be attractive for the long term? Do you have a lender? Can we offer the lender a security interest in the fixtures of the office? The receivables? Well?” Sam took a breath. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

“I don’t know the answers off the top of my head.”

“You should. Grow up. Find out. Call your office.” Sam grabbed his desk phone by the receiver and pushed it at Bennie. “I need the paper. Tax returns, account statements, check registers. You should have that together already, it’s tax time. Get everything else sent over. Messenger it all here. We’ll work all night if we have to, but we won’t have to.”