She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,149

I dialed, and a computerized voice asked me to deposit seventy-five cents. I fished the change from my pocket, making a mental note of the few remaining coins.

“Law offices of Matteo, Santillan, Veney, and Carmichael. How may I direct your call?”

Who the hell was Carmichael?

“Tess?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jack Thatch.”

She went quiet for a moment, and I pictured her lost among the clutter of her desk, clutter that no doubt grew in the past four years. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, nearly a whisper. “My God, Jack. Where have you been?”

I cleared my throat and spat on the sidewalk. I had brushed my teeth for nearly ten minutes, and the mint only masked the stale alcohol coating my throat and mouth, like putting a fresh layer of paint over rust. “Is he there?”

I didn’t have to say his name. She knew who I meant.

“He’s finishing up a call. Hang on a second.”

Music filled the line as she put me on hold, but she came back a moment later to add: “It’s good to hear your voice, Jack.”

“You too,” I said, but Bob Seger was already back singing about night moves.

It took nearly six more minutes for Matteo to pick up, and I had to deposit another thirty-five cents. I had sixty-three left in my pocket, maybe a little more in the bottom of my backpack somewhere.

“Jack? Where the fuck have you been?”

I hadn’t spoken to Matteo in over four years, not since leaving Penn State. Willy neither. I frankly had no desire to speak to either one. I didn’t know what color coat hung in each of their respective closets. I was better off on my own.

“What happened with the bank, Dewitt? I just tried to withdraw my allowance, and the machine ate my card.” I had never called him by his first name before, and it felt weird to say it, like calling one of your parents by their first name, I suppose. He needed to know who was in charge, though. I wasn’t a kid anymore. He was screwing with my money.

“You need to come in, Jack.”

“Why?”

“We thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then where are you?”

“Traveling. Seeing the world. Finding myself. Why do you give a shit?”

Matteo cleared his throat. “Four years, Jack. Willy said you went out drinking, scared the crap out of some girl, then vanished. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve had out looking for you?”

What color coats were they wearing?

“I’m very much alive, and I want what’s mine.”

“The trust clearly details your obligations to collect. You dropped the ball when you skipped out on college.”

I had a copy of the trust and read it numerous times. “The trust requires you to provide me with a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars, plus the cost of my rents and utilities. There is no expiration date on the allowance, and I’m not required to graduate from Penn State within an allocated time. You are able to withhold the balance until I do graduate, but you are not allowed to withhold the allowance stipulated in the trust. In fact, by doing so, I have every right to file a compliant with the Pennsylvania Bar.”

A recording broke in, then, “If you wish to continue, please deposit an additional thirty-five cents.”

I dug the change from my pocket and dropped it into the slot.

“Where are you, Jack?” Matteo said as the coins clicked through.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You need to come in.”

“Release my funds.”

Matteo sighed. “Article 5923.216 of the Pennsylvania Trust statute allows me to suspend payments on the trust if I have reason to believe you are deceased, and I’m invoking that right.”

“You’re talking to me. I may not be at my best, but I can guarantee I’m not deceased.”

“I need to see you in person before I can reinstate your monthly payments.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You’re not giving me a choice, Jack.”

“Who are the people in white coats, Dewitt?”

“Who?”

Even as I spoke, I watched patrons coming and going from the library, the people in the park. Nobody seemed to notice me, though, and that was good. Just another homeless guy on the phone.

“I’ll be there in three days.”

I hung up before he could respond.

Because of the cost of parking in New York City, I had left my Jeep in the lot of a Walmart Superstore in Trenton, New Jersey. It took me the better part of a day and a half to thumb my way back, but there wasn’t much choice in the matter. The Jeep started right