Prick Van WinkleChapter 11
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The next day, when Betty dropped Bob off at Gus' office, they took Sally along. She and Betty were going to go what they called "quilting" while Gus and Bob did their thing. After the women left, Bob got in Gus' car, a ten year old Buick. It was about three different colors, but ran well. Amalgamated had a parking garage in the basement of the headquarters building and the attendant was recalcitrant initially. Gus had foreseen this possibility and handed the attendant a piece of paper with an internal company phone number on it.
"Call that number." he said calmly. "Tell them Mr. Gunderson and his client are here."
This was a different Gus Gunderson than Bob had ever seen before. Not only did he have a fresh haircut, he was wearing a clean, pressed suit. It wasn't expensive, but it certainly wasn't a Hawaiian shirt either. Bob had decided to appear as he now dressed routinely. He wore something called a Guayabera shirt, which he liked because it had a multitude of pockets on it. Loose tan slacks and sandals completed his outfit. He'd examined what he called "Keds" with a detailed fascination but wouldn't buy any. He said they looked like monster feet, with their garish colors and clear impact absorbing heel sections, to say nothing of the ones with lights on them. He joked that it took a size twelve shoe to fit a size ten foot, what with all the added things that had happened to "Keds". So he wore sandals instead. The cut on his face from hitting the hospital door had healed to a scabby line. He still looked like he'd been beaten half to death.
Gus' appearance wasn't all that was new. His whole attitude seemed to have undergone some kind of metamorphosis, from a nervous, panicky loser to a calm, suave businessman. Bob liked the sunglasses Gus was wearing because they made him look mysterious. For the first time, Bob felt a little better about his choice of attorneys.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Gus led Bob out of the building into the parking garage with his hand on his elbow. It was needed, because Bob could hardly walk. Bob kept saying "But ... but ... but..." and Gus kept saying "Walk Bob, act normal Bob ... just walk ... there you go ... good."
Gus Gunderson had indeed been waiting his whole life for this case, and he had practiced arguing it so many times that he could do it in his sleep. He'd never known what the details would be, but he phrased his argument in broad terms. "The damage you've done my client is inestimable!" he'd barked. "My client's life has been catastrophically ruined!" He'd bored in while the opposing lawyers had hemmed and hawed. "You saw the news yesterday about what happened at the hospital ... don't tell me you didn't. You saw what the media is doing to my client, and all he did was go in for a simple checkup to see if the physical damage you people did to him was healing. Just look at him. He's a broken man, who woke up in a strange world and tried to do the right thing!" Gus stood up. "And what did it get him? A faceful of mace, almost blind for life and wrenched shoulders that may never heal properly!"
"It was pepper spray, not mace." mumbled one of the opposing team.
"Well, whatever it was, it was totally unprovoked and it got my client into the public eye in such a way that his whole family is hounded by the media daily, and has been ever since you assaulted him!"
A small man with slicked back hair had been sitting at the end of the table since the "conference" started. He had not been introduced. He suddenly raised his hand and spoke. The Amalgamated lawyers went silent and looked at him as one.
"We'll offer him a hundred thousand dollars. He drops all charges and signs a waiver for future interest."
Gus smiled, a thin smile and sat back down.
"Mr. Henderson, I believe?" he addressed the man, who blinked at being recognized. Gus turned to Bob. "This is Riley Henderson, CEO of Amalgamated Indemnity of America."
"CEO?" hazarded Bob.
"Chief Executive Officer," said Gus. "He's the boss."
"Oh," said Bob. "How do you do." he said automatically.
Gus put a hand on Bob's elbow and took a deep breath.
"Mr. Henderson, I appreciate that you have a responsibility to your stockholders. I even appreciate that you took the time to attend this meeting. I'm sorry to find that your time was wasted, though. I can see that our time was wasted as well. We'll see you in court - both criminal and civil. Come on Bob, we're leaving."
Gus stood up and Bob looked up at him.
Henderson raised his hand again.
"How much?" he said, his face calm.
Gus sat back down as if the only reason he'd stood up was to stretch, or smooth his pants. "Well, let's see. Amalgamated made a profit of thirteen point four billion dollars last year. Your stock price is up fifty cents after dropping thirty cents the day after Bob was assaulted in your building. I personally think that was a result of speculators who thought that Bob's fame would bring value to your stock. On the other hand, when word gets out that we have filed a hundred million dollar suit against this fine company, those speculators might just want to dump their stock in what stock traders call a "precipitous manner."
Bob almost leapt out of his chair and Gus' hand on his elbow clenched hard, keeping him in his seat. He went on like nothing had happened.
"Now you know, and I know that a measly hundred million is pocket change for a company like this. You probably have twice that much in your various petty cash accounts. I also personally take umbrage at your previous offer. I thought that with you here, we were at least speaking frankly. I see I was wrong.
Gus stopped talking. Bob looked around. His mind was still reeling. A hundred million dollars? What in the world was Gus thinking? Then he remembered Gus saying something about billions in profits. Bob's mind went numb as he remembered how, in High School math class, the teacher had tried to help the students understand how much a million was. He still remembered her nasal twang as she said "If you had a million dollars, and you bought a brand new Chevrolet Fleetmaster coupe every day, at eight hundred and forty-five dollars, it would take you three and a quarter years to spend that million dollars." The whole class had gasped. The teacher smiled. "And, if you put it in the bank and drew interest on it, you could buy a new Fleetmaster convertible every week, and never... never run out of money before you died."
In Bob's mind... that was how much a million dollars was. And Gus had asked for a hundred times that much.
Bob heard a voice and tried to concentrate. Henderson was talking again.
"Mr. Gunderson, I appreciate your zeal to protect the interests of your client. But no jury in the world is going to award you a hundred million for a face full of pepper spray and I think you know that. I think you're grandstanding, mister Gunderson, and I'm going to call your bluff. We have the assets to drag this out in court for as long as we want to." He waited, but Gus didn't say anything at all. He just sat there. Finally Henderson went on. "Now I realize that our first offer was, perhaps, a little disingenuous of me. I apologize for that. I have certain doubts as to the veracity of mister Winkle's status over the last fifty years in the first place, but that's another issue. Perhaps I let those doubts influence my judgment. Mister Winkle, regardless of who he really is, and what has happened, was still involved in an unfortunate incident on our property. Let's just cut to the chase, what do you say? Ten million. Take it or leave it," he sneered. "You should be happy with thirty percent of ten million ... mister Gunderson."
Bob's breath stuck in his chest. It was just as if another door had slammed him in the solar plexus. He felt Gus' hand squeezing his elbow again, but it didn't matter. He couldn't have said anything anyway. Gus said "I'll need a few minutes with my client alone. That's considerably less than what I think a jury would award in a case like this. But Bob is the injured party here."
The other men had filed out and Gus had looked at Bob. "I can get at least triple that in court." he said.
"You're insane!" gasped Bob.
"I got you an offer of ten million dollars," said Gus calmly. "And that doesn't even include the fraud somebody perpertrated against you by shorting you three hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Does that sound insane to you?"
"Yes!" said Bob. His mouth was suddenly dry.
"I told you Bob, you're a famous man. You're worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and that's just for movie and book rights. This thing that happened to you here could hurt this company and they know it. They're short changing you because they think you're a country bumpkin. Me too, for that matter. But if you want me to, I'll go all the way and we'll crush them.
Bob thought about it. Then he thought a little longer. There was a discreet tap at the door that Gus told him to ignore and didn't answer himself. Finally he looked at Gus.
"If we take the ten million, will you still be my lawyer for other things?"
Gus smiled. "You bet your sweet ass I will mister Winkle, but let me assure you, we're going to get more than ten million."
Then it hit Bob that, if he said so, he would walk out of this room a millionaire ten times over. He felt his heart pounding inside his chest, and his knees went weak. He felt faint.
"I don't feel very good." he gasped, trying to get control of himself.
Gus had opened the conference room door and walked out with Bob then and there. Bob's knees were genuinely weak, and Gus played on that.
"He's having a relapse, so we need to go. I'll have to get back to you on your offer. I need to get him to the doctor."
By the time they got to the elevator, the offer had doubled, with the proviso that it had to be accepted within twenty-four hours or it would be withdrawn. Gus just waved and grumbled that the elevator was too slow.
Thus it was that Gus had to help Bob out of the building and into the parking garage. Bob could almost walk normally by then, though his head was spinning.
"Did I just hear that man say twenty million?" asked Bob.
"You did indeed," said Gus, steering him to the car. "I might be able to buy me a new car." he said.
His reference to trying to spend millions on cars brought back the teacher's example again and Bob started laughing, almost hysterically.
Gus jerked him. "Don't laugh here. We're probably on tape. They think you've suffered a relapse, so act like it."
Bob giggled under his breath, and was finally able to say "I am suffering some kind of relapse, and it was them who made me this way. Twenty ... million ... dollars! And then he giggled some more.
Back at the office, Margie was on pins and needles. She loved her husband, but she'd never actually seen him in action. She saw him there in the office, and he talked to people in a reasonably professional way. Whenever he was in court she had to watch the office, though. And he'd never had a conference with the kind of sharks she knew just had to populate that insurance company. She had visions of him coming back a broken man, and her having to take two jobs again to take care of him in a nursing home while he constantly popped some high priced drug for slobbering basket cases.
She was surprised, therefore, when he and Bob came into the office with a bottle of wine.
She looked at him.
"It went fine." he said calmly. "We thought we'd celebrate."
He handed her the wine.
"They negotiated?" she asked breathlessly.
"Not very much," said Bob. "They were pretty adamant about ... what did you call it Gus? ... ripping me off?"
"Yeah, they tried to slam him all over again. I thought I was going to have to call 911 or something," said Gus, sitting down in his chair and leaning back.
"But you said it went fine," said Margie. Her hands were shaking.
"Well, we settled for a lot less than we could have gotten in court, or I should say we will settle for a lot less in..." He looked at his watch. "about eighteen hours from now."
"What do you mean?" begged Margie. "Why eighteen hours?"
"They gave us twenty four hours to give them our answer." he said. "I kind of want to wait until the last minute, just in case they decide to raise the ante."
"How much?" screeched Margie.
"Only twenty million," said Bob, trying to be off hand about it. He was still shaking too.
"Twenty..." Margie's eyes rolled up in her head and a thirty dollar bottle of wine crashed onto the floor as she fainted. Both men jumped to help her as the wine soaked into her pants and blouse.
"I'm going to have to put this on my expense account Bob," said Gus. "You should have let me tell her. I'd have known to tell her to put the bottle down first."
"Buy her two new outfits," said Bob, grinning.
"I was talking about the wine," said Gus, laughing.
Bob decided to wait to tell Betty about the settlement. He wanted to be able to tell all the women about it at the same time. So, when she and Sally showed up at Gus' office to pick him up, and asked how things went, he just said "Fine. I think it's all going to work out." Margie would have given it away, had she been there, but once she'd regained consciousness from her faint and settled down after almost attacking Gus with kisses and hugs, she'd scurried off to go home and change clothes.
Gus played along with Bob.
"Yeah, it could have gone better, but it was just a first time meeting. I'm pretty confident that it will turn out in our favor."
Betty might have realized something was up by how almost fanatical Bob was about making love to her that night in the cabin. He was practically insatiable, taking her three times in the space of two hours, but she was so happy with her own feelings that she just savored them, bucking up against her father as his prick spewed deep inside her again and again. Finally she pushed at him.
"We'll never be able to get up in the morning if you keep this up." she sighed.
"So ... who needs to get up in the morning?" he responded, tweaking one of her nipples gently.
They did sleep late, and were roused by a knock on the door. Betty lifted her head off her father's shoulder and looked blearily at the door. The layout of the cabin was pretty much one room, except for the bathroom and some storage spaces. Then her eyes widened and she rolled frantically out of the bed, shaking Bob and telling him in a hushed whisper to get up and lie down on the couch. When he did she threw a sheet over him and pulled on a dressing gown before going to the door.
"Who is it?" she called.
"It's June." called her sister.
Betty threw open the door in surprise.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.
"You've been up here alone with Daddy for almost a week," said June, barging into the cabin. "All by yourselves." she added with a dark look. "I'm here so you can go home and mow your lawn."
Betty grinned. "My lawn doesn't need mowing." she said, closing the door.
"Yeah, well, you've been getting your ashes hauled up here in the mountains for a week, and I mowed my lawn, so I think it's time we switched." she blurted. Her cheeks darkened a little.
But Betty just laughed. "Okay, okay, I get it." She leaned in close. "He was an animal last night. He might not have anything left."
Bob had sat up when he heard June's voice and the sheet had fallen to his lap.
"What's he doing on the couch?" asked June, a note of disbelief in her voice.
"We thought you might be one of the neighbors," said Betty. "There's a positively delightful young woman named Sally who's been coming over here. And you won't believe who she's related to! Remember Denny? That nice boy who searched us at the hospital?"
"You're kidding!" squealed June. "Which one? The tall one or the short one?"
"The tall one," said Betty.
Then they were chattering like sisters always chatter when they get together and haven't seen each other for a while. June said that Martha was having trouble with Sunny after Val had gone out with "that nice detective". Sunny had suddenly become very conservative in her views on sexuality and was convinced that the older man had taken advantage of her daughter. Then the details were discussed of why Sunny was so convinced. Bob stared as he heard the way Val walked the next day mentioned, and her bouncy happy attitude. The kicker was when June said "You know what it was like when one of us had been with Daddy. We could always tell, even if we weren't in the house when it happened." Unlike Sunny, however, both great aunts approved heartily of the alleged union between Zack and Val, despite the difference in their ages. Their past might have accounted for that, since they had had an "older lover" all their lives. Martha, said June, was also happy about it, figuring it was high time that some great grandchildren came along - Martha's, not Bob's.
Bob just sat and listened as the social byplay of the late 20th century was displayed for him in ways most people wouldn't have thought was odd at all. But listening to these older women calmly discuss the sexual activities of their younger relatives was something that would never have happened like that when Bob went to sleep. That Sunny seemed to display more conservatism about all this just jarred him more. And the thought of Val, beautiful, slim Val, being made love to by Zack, reminded Bob of what it had been like to make love to Becca.
In short, their chatter turned him on and made him stiff.
He had to go to the bathroom, and since these two women had seen him this way innumerable times before anyway, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, his stiff cock like some kind of leash, leading the way.
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