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“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.” Be
“Okay, I’ll betcha. Now, who got the good childhood?”
“I did. I knew my mother, and Alice didn’t,” Be
“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.”
Be
“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.” Be
“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, Be
Be
“I’m not listening.” Sam was about to tear the completed check out when Be
“Oops! ‘Ah say, Ah say, Widow Brown,’” Be
“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 go
“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.” Be
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?”
Be
“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 Be
“Do you have time, now?”
“If I didn’t, what kind of girlfriend would I be?” Sam asked, and Be
An hour later, the glass surface of Sam’s desk was cluttered with all of Be
Be
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
Sam thought a minute.
“Told you.”
“You were right. You can’t get another cent out of this business. You have old receivables that total at most two hundred eighty-three dollars and thirty-four cents. You missed three quarterly tax payments, which you have to get current immediately, the interest and penalties will kill you. Your firm is overextended, heavily leveraged.” Sam was shaking his head, looking as forlorn as if it had been his own business. “Frankly, if you file, you can reorganize. Start over. Get back in business. Viable business.”
“You want me to file for bankruptcy?” Be
“Why?”
“It’s failing.”
“It is not!”
“Then it’s cheating.”
“It’s not that either.” Sam’s eyes softened, their corners tilting down. “Honey, your business was in trouble before Finalil stiffed you, and now you have nothing. The bankruptcy laws were enacted for people like you.”