“I know nothing of personal injury law,” she said.
“Of course you do. You’ve seen a thousand ads on television, all those hucksters begging for cases. They’re not the sharpest tools in the shed, so you gotta figure there can’t be much to PI work.”
“Thanks.”
Todd added, “And it only takes a couple of really good car wrecks to make some money, Zola. I met a lawyer in the Old Red Cat who was starving until he slipped on some ice and fell. When he was laid up in the hospital, they rolled in another guy who got banged up in a motorcycle collision. A year later the lawyer settled the motorcycle accident case for almost a million and raked off one-third.”
“Just like that,” she said.
“Yes, and there will always be injured people and they always take ’em to the hospital. That’s where you’ll be waiting.”
“It’ll work, Zola, because we’ll make it work,” Mark said. “Just the three us, all for one, one for all. Equal partners to the very end.”
“And what’s the end, guys? What is your endgame?”
“Survival,” Todd said. “We’ll survive by hiding and pretending to be other people. We’ll hustle the streets because there’s no turning back.”
“And if we get caught?”
Mark and Todd took a sip and thought about an answer. Finally, Mark said, “If we get caught, we simply walk away again. Vanish.”
“A life on the run,” she said.
“We’re running now,” Todd said. “You might not want to admit it, but that’s what we’re doing. We’re living a life that’s not sustainable, so we have no choice but to run.”
Mark cracked his knuckles and said, “Here’s the deal, Zola. We’re in this together, thick as thieves and loyal to the end. We have to agree, right now, up front, that if it becomes necessary, we leave together.”
“And go where?”
“We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“What about your families?” she asked. “Have you told them?”
They hesitated, and the pause conveyed the answer. Mark said, “No, I have not told my mother, because she has enough problems right now. She thinks I’m in class and looking forward to graduation with a nice job all lined up. I suppose I’ll wait a couple of months, then lie and tell her I’m taking a semester off. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“And you?” she asked Todd.
“Same here,” he said. “Right now I don’t have the balls to tell my parents. I’m not sure which version of the truth sounds worse. On the one hand, I’m $200,000 in debt and have no job. On the other hand, I’ve dropped out and decided to make a buck hustling DUIs for cash with a new identity. I’ll wait, like Mark, and think of something later.”
“And if the scheme blows up and you get into trouble?”
“It won’t happen, Zola,” Mark said.
“I’d like to believe you but I’m not convinced you know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re not convinced either,” Todd said. “But we’ve made our decision and there’s no turning back. The question is whether or not you’re with us.”
“You’re asking a lot. You expect me to walk away from three years of law school.”
“Come on, Zola,” Mark said. “What has law school done for you? Nothing, except ruin your life. We’re offering a way out. It may not be the cleanest exit, but right now it’s all we’ve got.”
She crunched on a nacho and looked around the bar. It was packed with young men in their thirties and forties, all drinking and watching basketball and hockey on the big screens. There were a few women, but not many, and almost no students.
She asked, “And both of you guys work here?”
Todd said, “Yep. It’s a lot more fun than sitting in class and studying for the bar exam.”
“And what are the terms of the partnership?”
Mark said, “We’re pooling our expense money for this semester. Ten thousand each. That covers the launch: new computers, new phones, some office equipment, new identities, some nicer clothes.”
“Are you in?” Todd asked.
“Let me think about it, okay? I still think you’re crazy.”
“We won’t argue that.”
16
Some thirty months earlier, when Mark Frazier signed his name on the last federal loan form and jumped headlong into the quagmire of student debt, the Department of Education assigned him a loan servicer, a woman by the name of Morgana Nash. She worked for NowAssist, a private company in New Jersey hired by the DOE to service student loans, and her selection had been at random. Mark had never met her and had no reason to. As the borrower, he was allowed to establish the lines of communication and had chosen to keep the chatter to a minimum, like most students. He and Ms. Nash corresponded by e-mail only. She had once asked for his cell phone number, but since he was not required to divulge it, she didn’t get it. NowAssist was one of several loan service companies, and all were supposedly monitored closely by DOE. Those with subpar performances were either given less business or terminated altogether. According to its website, DOE ranked NowAssist in the middle of the pack. Other than the suffocating debt itself, Mark had no complaints with Ms. Nash and her efforts so far. After thirty months of listening to the bitching of a bunch of law students, he knew that there were some bad service companies.
Her latest e-mail, one received on his old account, read,
Hello, Mark Frazier: I trust your holidays went well and you’ve buckled down for your final semester of law school. Congrats on making it this far and best of luck in these final months. When we last communicated, in November, you were excited about your position at Ness Skelton but still uncertain as to your starting salary. An update on this issue would be appreciated. Based on your salary, I would like to begin the process of structuring a repayment plan. As you know, the law requires a repayment plan to be signed at graduation, with your first payment due exactly six months after that. I know you’re busy but please check in at your convenience.
Most recent installment Jan. 13, 2014 = $32,500. Total due, principal and interest: $266,000.
Best Regards, Morgana Nash, Public Sector Representative
Mark waited two days and on Saturday morning replied,
Dear Ms. Nash: Thank you for your note, so good to hear from you. Hope you are well. Things are sort of up in the air over at Ness Skelton these days. The firm merged with some British outfit and everything seems to be in flux. In fact, I can’t find anyone there who’s willing to talk about my position. I even get the impression that the job offer might have vanished in the merger. It’s very unsettling. And add the fact that my best friend jumped off the Arlington Memorial Bridge and into the Potomac (see link) last week, and, well, I haven’t thought much about law school. Give me some time and I’ll put myself back together. The last thing I want to talk about is repayment. Thanks for your patience. Your friend, Mark.