Mango Bob (2 page)

No one is happy about this. Including me.

I'll be out of a job in two weeks. The wife knows this. Probably why she filed for divorce now. If she get's the divorce, she won't have to support me.

As I push open the door to the Poole law firm, a bell announces my arrival. A short balding man sticks his head out of the back room.

“You the one just called about getting served?”

“Yeah, that's me.”

He walks over to greet me, “Bobby Poole at your service.”

I ask, “So how does this work? What do you charge?”

Poole smiles, “First 20 minutes is free. After that, it's $200 an hour. Pay by credit card or cash.”

“So what's it going to cost total?”

“It depends on what we're dealing with. Could be less than five hundred dollars, could be a lot more. I'll have a better idea after I see the papers.”

He points to the folder in my hand, “Let's me see.”

Bobby flips through the papers, then says, "Good news. You haven't murdered anyone, aren't on America's most wanted list, and haven't sold crack to an undercover police officer.”

Apparently this is a relief to him. Maybe that's the kind of cases he normally deals with.

He continues, “Your wife is seeking a divorce. Let me make a call, get the details.”

He picks up the phone, punches in a few numbers. “Sally, this is Bobby Poole. Is Howard in? This is about the Walker divorce.”

Bobby smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

After a few seconds of silence, Bobby starts speaking, “Howard, you got a minute to go over the Walker divorce?”

“Kids? Alimony?

"Any property to divide up?

"Any debt?

"No kidding?

"She want anything else?

"Yeah, that's pretty sweet. I'll let you know.”

Bobby hangs up the phone, smiles big.

“OK, here's the deal. Your wife wants a divorce. She doesn't want alimony, she just wants out quickly."

“You don't have any kids, don't own a home, don't have any debt or any major assets to speak of. So it'll be an uncontested, no assets, no kids, kind of divorce. The best kind.”

“She keeps her car, her clothes, and everything in the house. You keep your truck, your clothes, all your personal belongings. You also get half the money in your bank account.

“According to her attorney, your share from the checking and savings accounts will be about $43,000. She gives up all claims to your current and future earnings, and you do the same for her.”

“It's pretty straight-forward.”

I nod.

Bobby continues, “You're getting out easy. Most divorces don't go this way. They drag on for months. The lawyers fight over every detail. Husband and wife fight continually.

"But not this one. Everything is simple. It's like a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yes, a gift. She's doing you a big favor. Making it easy. No demands. No alimony. No troubles. Wish my own ex-wife had done the same for me.”

“If it were me, I'd jump on this deal right away. Don't give her time to change her mind. ”

The way Bobby tells it you'd think I'd won the lottery.

I'm still thinking about this when he says, “Here's the deal. If you agree to the terms, I can take care of everything this afternoon. Your wife has already signed the agreement, all you need to do is counter sign.”

“After you sign, I'll file it with the court. And thirty days later, you're a free man. My fee to handle everything will be under five hundred dollars.”

He hesitates, then says “I don't want to pressure you, but the sooner you sign and file, the sooner you lock-in this sweetheart deal. Wait too long, and it could get messy. And expensive.”

He's in a hurry. But that's his job. Get deals done quickly and move on to another case.

“If you agree to this, I'll make a call and we can wrap this up today.”

Bobby waits for my reply.

I know you're supposed to think these things through. Take your time. See a marriage counselor. Try to reconcile.

But I know the marriage is over. We'd grown apart. She wanted out. It happens.

And I was OK with that. Just wish she'd told me herself instead of going through her lawyer.

5

There's really not much to think over.

If she wants out, there's no reason for me to stick around. Nothing to gain by that.

She's giving me a good deal if I take it now. And she knows I can't resist a good deal. I tell Bobby, “Let's do it. No need to drag this thing out.”

He smiles, “Good call. You'll be glad you did it this way. A clean break with no mess. We can get everything taken care of today.”

“But you'll need a mailing address we can use on the divorce papers. Can't use your current home address. We don't want any of our correspondence or legal documents accidentally mailed to her.”

“Do you have a P.O. box or some other address we can use that she doesn't know about?”

I shake my head, “No, all my mail goes to my home address.”

“OK, you'll need a new address. And you need it today. The easy solution is to go over to the Pack N' Ship store here in the Plaza. Get a private mail box.”

“Go on over there now, get a mail box and then come right back here. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes.”

“When you get back we'll get the forms knocked out and filed before the end of the day.”

I hesitate. Bobby points to the door. “Go do it now. Get a mailing address at Pack n Ship. Then come right back here.”

Bobby is apparently a take charge kind of guy. Telling me what to do and when to get it done. I guess he's used to having to do that with his other clients.

I don't mind. I'm paying for his legal advice. Following his instructions is part of the deal.

As I go out the door, Bobby's already on the phone, presumably letting wifey's attorney's know I'm taking the deal.

On the busted sidewalk outside Bobby's office, I check to see if my truck is still in the parking lot. In this neighborhood, you never know.

It's still there. Windows still intact. A good sign.

I look around to find the Pack 'N Ship. It's four doors down. No crime scene tape blocking the way. My lucky day.

A bell on the door rings as I walk in. An older lady behind the counter looks in my direction. “Yes?”

“I need a mail box.”

“No problem. For forty dollars we set you up with a street address and box number. Twelve dollars a month after that.

“You can check your mail any time during office hours. Eight in the morning till six at night. Closed on Sundays.”

“If you can't come by to check your mail, we can forward your mail to any address you supply. Extra charge for that.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Fill out this form and we'll get you set up.”

I fill out the form and pay the forty dollars. In return I get a computer printout with my new address and a mail box combination.

Time to head back to Bobby's office.

A bell rings as I push open his door. I see Bobby quickly reach under his desk. I'm thinking he has a gun under there. Just in case. Maybe that's the smart thing to do in this neighborhood. Keep a gun close by.

He sees it's me, relaxes his hand.

“You got the new address? Let me see it.”

Bobby takes the Pack N' Ship printout, turns on his copy machine and makes a copy.

His copier looks brand new. I guess he needs a good copier more than he needs nice furniture.

He hands me back the original, “Don't lose this. You'll need it later on.”

He points to a chair in front of his desk. I take this as an invitation to sit down.

“I can file everything this afternoon. While I'm preparing the paperwork, there are a few things you'll want to take care of.”

He doesn't wait for me to respond.

“First, you need to go to your bank and open a new checking account in your name only. Then transfer $43,000 from your wife's joint account into your new account.

“Use your Pack n Ship box number as your home address. Be sure to get some temporary checks for your new account, and get at least $500 cash for spending money.

“While at the bank, apply for new credit cards in your name only. Get those cards mailed to your Pack 'N Ship address, not your home address.

“If you have any existing credit cards shared jointly with your wife, call and cancel those.

“Then go to the Value Self Storage on Third street and rent a storage unit. Big enough for all your things.”

“Be back here before four o'clock this afternoon. Bring a check so you can pay me. I'll tell you the amount when you get here.

“Any questions?”

Bobby waits for my answer.

“I've got it. Bank, credit cards, storage building. Be back here by four.”

“Good. If you run into problems, call me. Otherwise, be back here by four.”

Outside of Bobby's office, I plan the rest of my day. First thing I need to do is to call the plant, let them know I'll be late getting back.

I call and Molly from Human Resources answers.

“Molly, this is Walker. Is there anything in the office I need to take care of this afternoon?”

“No, not that I know of. Things are pretty slow around here.”

“That's good. I've got some personal business I need to attend to. Might not be able to get back until late this afternoon.”

“No problem. Take the rest of the day off if you want.”

“OK. If I don't get back today, I'll see you tomorrow.”

I end the call.

Molly and I both knew no one from the plant really cares where I'll be. The plant is closing in two weeks, and most of those who worked there are already gone.

6

Following Bobby's instructions, the bank is my first stop. Go in and meet with an account manager. Explain what I need to do.

No problem. She's be able to handle it all.

Takes about twenty minutes to open a new account and transfer my share of funds from the old account into it.

With the new account, they issued a book of twenty temporary checks with a promise of real checks mailed to me within a week.

They offer to send me a new credit card in my name only tied to my new checking account. I agree. The new card will be sent to my new P.O. box within seven days.

I ask about canceling my old credit cards, and the bank manager says I need to call the number on the back of each card. I'll do that later.

Before leaving the bank, I use one of the temporary checks to withdraw $1,000 for spending money.

Back in my truck, I call the numbers on the back of each of my credit cards. I tell them I want to cancel. Send the final bill to my new address.

Takes a few minutes to convince them I don't want another card. Just cancel and send me a bill. They finally agree.

With the banking and credit cards taken care of, the next thing on the list is a storage unit.

Value Self Storage is about two miles from the bank. It takes me eight minutes to get there.

Surrounded by an eight foot tall, razor wire topped fence, the place looks like a prison. Except in this case, the prison walls keep the bad guys from breaking in.

There's a small concrete block building outside the gated entry. It's the office.

Inside, a young woman behind the counter is facing eight security monitors which show different views of the storage complex.

She looks up at me, smiles. “How can I help you today?”

I tell her I need a small storage unit.

“Great. We have several sizes available. How big a unit do you need?”

She hands me a chart showing the different size units and prices.

I don't have much to store. Just clothes, a laptop computer, a few boxes of photos and old documents. So I choose the smallest unit. Six foot by eight foot. About the size of a large walk-in closet.

“That'll be thirty six dollars a month. How do you want to pay?”

I reach for my credit card, then remember I've just canceled it. Have to pay in cash.

After I pay, I'm given a map showing the location of my unit and I'm issued a security code to get through the gate. Just enter the number into the keypad, and the gate opens automatically.

Cool.

I've taken care of the bank, the credit cards, and the storage unit. Everything on Bobby's list. It's three o'clock. An hour ahead of schedule.

Maybe Bobby won't mind if I get back early.

There are more cars in the Paradise Plaza parking lot this time – mostly down by the Lion's Den, a 'gentleman's entertainment' club.

I guess the afternoon crowd is starting to show up. Maybe they're there for the food. Which reminds me that I've skipped lunch.