Foreclosure: A Novel by S.D. Thames

to meet Frank.”
    “I know.” She stood and straightened out her khaki skirt. “And you’re fifteen minutes early.”
    “So what? I just wanted to say hi.”
    “How sweet,” she said. Whatever playful feelings she’d had for him at the Hilton had apparently worn off along with whatever pill she was popping. “You’re meeting upstairs in the main office.”
    She led him up a few flights of stairs, explaining along the way that she didn’t like to take the elevator unless she had to walk more than three flights. Grunting his way up the stairs, David noticed that she had the toned calves to prove it. David felt a hearty sweat breaking as the morning grew humid, just a foretaste of mean old summer around the corner. David had lived here long enough to realize he would never adjust to the year-round humidity of southwest Florida. Three flights of stairs in a wool suit didn’t help.
    A moment later, she showed him into Frank’s office. An oversized space facing the Gulf, it was furnished only with a black marble desk, three ergonomic chairs, an empty steel bookcase, and a twelve-foot stuffed marlin hanging on the wall. The floor was smooth polished concrete.
    “Is he still moving in?” David said.
    “This is how he likes it.”
    David stared at the marlin. “He likes to fish?”
    “ Like isn’t the right word. Oh, and just so you know, I put my money on you today.”
    “What’s the bet?”
    “Robbie was taking bets you’d screw the pooch, as he put it.”
    “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
    She grinned. “I like to gamble.” She closed the door, and the office somehow grew in size.
    David took a seat facing Frank’s desk and started skimming over the escrow agreement, related emails, receipts, and Robbie’s “research.” It felt like a waste, though, because he knew everything he needed to know. Plus he couldn’t keep his eyes off the trophy on the wall. He stood again and rubbed his fingers along the marlin’s spine, imagining it fighting for its life.
    “She’s a beauty.” Frank had entered without making a sound.
    David didn’t look away from the trophy. “A blue marlin?”
    “Caught it off Bimini in 2000. You fish?”
    David paused. He had to be careful here. He had been on a few commercial fishing outings but never actually caught a fish. “I like to when I can find the time.”
    “Sometimes you have to make the time.”
    David turned to Frank. “Hemingway wrote about this fish.”
    Frank shrugged. “I’d never waste time reading about catching a fish. I’d rather catch a real one.”
    “Hemingway didn’t just write about fishing. He fished too.”
    “Yes, but have you?” Frank checked his watch. “Are you ready?”
    David remembered all the news he had to tell Frank about his meeting with Justin and Meridian Bank and their plan to default him. “Yeah, but we need to talk first.”
    “About what?”
    “About your bank.”
    “What the hell does my bank have to do with this asshole Dr. Herington?”
    “Let’s just say I know you’ve got problems.”
    “No shit I’ve got problems. And the only one I’m worried about today, the only one you should be worried about, is sitting in my conference room demanding I pay him a hundred grand. You take care of that problem, maybe we’ll talk about the next one.”
    David followed Frank to the conference room. Frank nodded for David to enter first. David took a breath and opened the door. The room was stale and bare—white walls with no décor other than a few framed photos of game fish. The perfect counterpart to Frank’s office. Inside, Dr. Herington, a lanky, anxious man in his early sixties, sat across the conference table.
    His attorney, Bryce Cummings, a real estate attorney from Sarasota with a knack for attracting wealthy clients all along the Gulf Coast, stood and introduced himself to David. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    David handed Bryce his card and introduced himself. “And you know my client, Frank