Chapter 85: Compensation
"Ah! I remember now, you're Walter!" Frank exclaimed, slapping his thigh as he recalled who the person on the phone was.
Walter was a friend of the old "Frank," though not as close as the likes of Mikey or chubby Tommy. They had met during Frank's younger days at Northwestern University when Frank was still a model student, adept at piano, and not the disreputable figure he eventually became.
Walter was an exchange student, and they had shared a dorm room. Back then, they were good friends.
Later, Frank spiraled into disrepute, while Walter graduated successfully and became a renowned PhD, reportedly even considered for the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.
But all of that was years ago. Before graduating, their contact diminished, as Walter returned to his home institution after his exchange term ended.
Post-graduation, Frank lived in Illinois, while Walter was in New Mexico. The considerable distance further eroded their connection.
Once Frank hit rock bottom, he resorted to various means to get money, borrowing from anyone he could think of, including Walter. However, Walter, leading a modest life, couldn't lend Frank money.
Under normal circumstances, Frank would have resorted to relentless persuasion, extracting money from even the stingiest individuals. But Walter's distance made it impractical, and the matter was dropped. That was many years ago, and they hadn't communicated since.
Unexpectedly, Walter had reached out after all this time, clearly with something important.
"Walter, what's up? Why did you contact me?" Frank asked, puzzled.
"Uh, discussing this over the phone isn't ideal. Do you have a secure email?" Walter replied, somewhat secretively.
Frank did have an encrypted email, used for translation gigs, and he provided the address to Walter.
"I'll explain everything in an email," Walter said.
"Strange," Frank thought, but he soon dismissed it and dialed the second number on the note.
"Hello?" A woman's voice answered.
"This is Frank Gallagher," Frank said.
"Oh, old Frank, I've got good news for you," the voice replied, sounding familiar with Frank.
"Who is this?" Frank asked.
"It's me, Dekner. You don't recognize my voice? Anyway, your compensation agreement is ready. Come by, and we can discuss the details," the woman said hurriedly before hanging up.
"Dekner?" Frank pondered the name, finding it more familiar than Joseph or Walter.
"Ah! My lawyer!" Frank soon remembered who Dekner was—his lawyer.
Indeed, despite his disreputable state, the old "Frank" had a personal lawyer.
Frank finished his drink and left the bar, seeking out Dekner.
Her office, though modest, was a small room in a larger building, cluttered with furniture and towering stacks of files. It was clear that she wasn't among the top echelon of lawyers.
In fact, Dekner offered more than just legal services, including daycare for children and pets.
"Is anyone here?" Frank called out.
"Oh, it's tough to even take a bathroom break with this little monster on my back," a woman in her forties emerged, a baby strapped to her back.
"Just kidding, changing diapers is the real challenge. Old Frank, how's it going?" Dekner asked casually.
"Not bad," Frank replied.
"Let's cut to the chase. I'm on a tight schedule. The mall elevator compensation is still pending. This is about the train door incident that injured your ankle. The settlement is ready; I just need your and Monica's signatures to release the funds."
"Of course, as usual, I take a third of the settlement, plus additional expenses," Dekner explained.
The legal field is competitive, and smaller lawyers like Dekner must find unique ways to earn, such as assisting people like Frank.
Frank, in his quest for money, was willing to do almost anything except work, often resorting to "accidents" involving public entities, like getting trapped in a train door or an elevator.
But dealing with public entities isn't easy, and securing compensation requires a lawyer to negotiate.
Frank had met several lawyers this way. Dekner handled the negotiations and took a cut of the settlement, forming a symbiotic relationship.
In essence, one caused the "accident," and the other negotiated the settlement, a dubious partnership born of necessity.
Frank's disability certificate, preventing him from working, was also secured by Dekner, showcasing her skill in navigating legal gray areas.
"Monica," Frank muttered, considering Dekner's words.
"This is a copy of the document. To finalize the settlement, both you and Monica need to visit the city legal office in person," Dekner explained.
"Does it have to be both of us? Can't I go alone?" Frank asked, frowning.
(End of Chapter)