56. Millions and Millions
Roman
I whistled.
“Yeah,” Summer said. “That’s what I thought.”
“How much did he still owe?” I asked. “It was seventy million in taxes and fines, something like that, but you already paid some of it, selling those houses and all.”
“You looked it up,” she said. “I didn’t tell you that.”
“I did. So how much?”
“What he still owes? Forty-six million, two hundred sixty-three thousand. That’s accumulated some interest, too. Which leaves eighty-one million, eight hundred fourteen … oh, the heck with it. Eighty-two million dollars. But of course, even once the Crown takes the money he owes, that won’t reduce his sentence. I can’t believe I married somebody so stupid,” she burst out. “I’ve accepted everything else. That he wasn’t a grown-up. That he was scared of the future. That he was so gifted on the field and so flawed off it. But how could he be so stupid?”
“It’s a mystery,” I said, feeling so much lighter. When I’d seen her face today … “And this has brought your world crashing down around you because …”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” she said. “I think I may know the answer. I could cry again, so be warned.”
I held up the roll of toilet paper I brought in from the loo. “I’m ready.”
She smiled, so that was better. “It’s that …” She took a breath. “That he was willing to put me through that when he could have avoided it for both of us. That he didn’t even care about me enough to keep me out of prison. OK, I’m not going to cry. I guess I’ve faced that one. And I don’t know for sure, but I think I’ve figured out why he didn’t just pay up, too.”
“I’m fascinated to hear.” I was sorry the bastard wasn’t here where I could get at him, but I was probably glad, too, because I’d be the one in prison then.
“I think,” she said, “that, first, he was sure he’d get off. He was almost … jaunty about it. He really thought he was that special, that nothing that bad could happen to him. That, and he had this sort of … pit of need that he couldn’t face. If he admitted what he’d done, it would pierce the bubble. That’s a lot of metaphors. He needed to think he’d get away with it. Also, there’s something he said at the end.”
“What?” I asked.
“He said, when I was figuring out the bankruptcy and all that, when he was already in prison, that he couldn’t have played much longer anyway. He was almost thirty, and he’d peaked a few years back. He’d started not being quite such a star, which, coincidentally, was also when the fraud got much worse. See, that’s pretty late to peak, but people peak at different ages. Because it happened so late for him, though, he somehow thought it wouldn’t happen. He was terrified of soccer being over, I think—he could still have done modeling, I guess, and still been a celebrity, but that didn’t really count—and he didn’t want to think about it and definitely didn’t want to talk about it, but on some level, he knew it. I guess this was his Plan B. His really stupid Plan B.”
“His Plan B was tax fraud? That’s one hell of a Plan B.”
Somehow, she was smiling. Summer, bouncing back. “Right? Of course, he spent everything else he made, somehow or other, so you could think of it as a savings plan. He couldn’t take the money out, but nobody else could, either.”
“Did this man have an accountant?” I asked. My own accountant would’ve made short work of that lame idea. And fired me as a client.
“Excellent question,” Summer said. “That’s why they thought I must’ve been part of it—because he couldn’t have figured it all out on his own. Yes, he had an accountant. I heard he was facing disciplinary action, but I didn’t really follow it. I didn’t care.”
“So even though he’d done it deliberately,” Roman said, “and been found out, he kept lying. Makes no sense.”
“It does if you know Felipe,” she said. “He hadn’t thought he’d go to prison for it, of course, and even when it looked like he would, he thought the sentence would be short. He told me that when he got out, we could go live in some tropical paradise, or go back to Argentina, where he’d always be a star, or both. As if I’d go for that. I’m a rule follower! How could he still not have known that about me? But then, he was surprised when I filed for divorce, too.”
“They’d still have been looking for the money, though,” I said. “‘For jealousy is cruel as the grave, and the coals thereof are coals of fire.’ That’s the Bible, and it’s nothing compared to the tax authorities. Jealous for their money, eh.”
“Yes,” Summer said, “but you see—even if they found it, most countries outside of Europe and the States and so forth don’t extradite unless it’s for something really bad. Murder, kidnapping, things like that, so he probably could have gone back to Argentina with the money, or to … to Costa Rica or wherever, some Spanish-speaking tropical place, and been just fine.”
“Crime does pay, then,” I said.
“If he’d been quicker to take the money and run,” she said. “If he’d realized they’d find out. I’m sure there’s a Bible quote about that, too. The love of money is the root of all evil, right?”
“‘But they that will be rich,’” I said, “‘fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition.’”
“I concede to the quotation master,” she said. “Makes you think twice about the swimming pool and the pizza oven, maybe.”
“Nah,” I said. “I don’t need the Catlins place. I like it, but I don’t need it. That’s not my snare.”
“I like this place,” she said. “I didn’t really look at it before, but … it’s nice.”
“Cozy,” I said. “Comfortable. First house I ever bought. Two bedrooms, one of them an attic without much head room, one bath, tiny kitchen, and a million-dollar view. We done talking about Moyano, then? Good.”
“Oh,” she said. “OK. I guess …”
“Summer. Wait.” I grabbed her hand and held it. “If there’s more to say, go on and say it. He thought you’d go with him. I think that’s where we were.”
“Oh. Yes. Maybe he was lying about that, but he probably would have wanted me to, because I was his security blanket that also made his life run smoothly, and none of those other girls were. Though I’m under no illusions that he’d have given them up. Again—why would I go for this? And I’m sorry,” she of course had to add, “if I’ve made you feel like you’re that for me, coming to you today. That’s nobody’s job, to be somebody else’s emotional support animal, to spend their life propping somebody else up.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “That’s the last thing in the world I’d accuse you of. Have you never happened to notice that you drive me mad when you won’t let me help?”
“Oh.” She looked confused. “Well, good. But I’ve cried on you twice now.”
“You have,” I agreed. “And you’ve gone to meet my whanau with me, and brought Delilah to New Zealand with you because you couldn’t bear to think of her being alone, and taken my mum away and looked after her when she was being a nuisance, and tried to clean the whole bloody house when some random girl got sick all over it. The rental house. You’re a caretaker. A nurse, not a patient. But go on and tell me the rest of it. Moyano didn’t imagine his brilliant self would actually end up in prison, and he had those debts and all, tens of millions worth of them, so he reckoned he’d wipe the slate clean with a bankruptcy, then disappear and pop up again with his …”
“One hundred twenty-eight million, seventy-seven thousand, nine hundred fifty-six pounds,” she finished. “And ninety-one pence. Which would buy a lot of beach time. But now he’ll get out in four years or whatever it is with the eighty-one million, et cetera, and not have to go hide in some other country. He won’t have to settle for a white and silver condo after all. Well, if he doesn’t blow the money again.”
“So he put you both through all this for nothing,” I said. “Or for his own selfish reasons. The bankruptcy. The disgrace. I reckon that could make a person cry to discover. But—wait. The divorce lawyer. What’s the story there?”
“Ah,” she said. “OK, this is what I can’t figure out. Why this has thrown me for such a loop. He said we could petition to reopen the divorce, since it was filed with false information. Deliberately misleading information. That I could definitely sue for half the money, and there was even a case to be made for me getting all the money. He explained some legal reason for that, but I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“Half of the eighty-one million, et cetera,” I said. “Or all of it.”
“Yes. Because Felipe earned it after we were married. But here’s the thing. Warning—I could get tied up in this one.”
“I’ll do my best to help untangle you. Go.”
She sat up straighter and dropped the blanket from around her shoulders. Fine and strong as tempered steel. “I never felt like that money was mine,” she said. “I should feel like it was mine, because the law says it’s matrimonial property and heaven knows all the debts were mine, and because Felipe didn’t think it was mine. I think that’s part of the reason he hid it, honestly. He didn’t think it was the government’s, either. That’s the other reason he hid it. He really thought it wasn’t fair, the tax rate on that much money and the idea that I’d have any claim on it. He earned almost five hundred million dollars while we were married, and he thought he was treated unfairly. It’s mind-boggling.”
“It wasn’t yours, but he still wanted you to go with him and be his support animal,” I said.
“I told you it was confusing,” she said. “But—yes. And even though I know that’s unfair and wrong, it isn’t my money, not to me. I didn’t earn it, and I don’t want it. It wrecked Felipe, and I have no desire to live in a Snow Queen silver-and-white house, or to own a Lamborghini or fly on private jets or drink Champagne that costs thousands of pounds a bottle or waste my money any other way, either. And I don’t want to be tied to Felipe’s life anymore. That’s the main thing. But …”
“But you didn’t deserve to go bankrupt,” I said. “You didn’t earn that.”
“Exactly.” She beat her fist on her leg. She was in my dressing gown, which was streets too big for her, her face was blotchy and swollen, her hair was a mess, and I couldn’t have walked away from her if I’d tried. Her light was that strong. “Exactly. I was held responsible for his debts, because that’s the law, too, and I deserve to be compensated for losing my home. For losing all my clothes, all my jewelry—well, the few pieces I actually liked—and all my stupid pots and pans that I bought! I deserve to be compensated for having to go to trial and for paying solicitors and barristers and losing my job and my career and being disgraced with everyone I knew. For still being disgraced. For being so … so ashamed. I tried my best to add it up, and …” She took a breath and clearly steeled herself. “I think, five hundred thousand pounds. I think that’s fair.”
“Thought the engagement ring was worth almost that much by itself, though,” I said.
“It was. But I told you, I hated that stupid ring. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend—it’s been hard to think about anything else—and I’ve gone around and around and around, everything from thinking, go on and ask for everything and then donate it, so that I should walk away from the whole deal, and this is where I end up. I deserve something, I deserve to be made whole, but I don’t want everything. I don’t even want half, and I definitely don’t want to go back to court or spend years wrangling over it. I want a quick settlement, and then I want to start over. To keep starting over. But with slightly better clothes and college tuition for Delilah,” she said, trying to laugh.
“Then,” I said, “why not? Sorry, but I don’t get what’s so … so tragic here. What’s making you cry. He was an arsehole. He was worse than that. He made your life hell and only thought of himself, and now you’re shot of him and standing on your own feet and starting over. I’m rapt you came to me, of course, but …” I was mucking this up, I knew. “I’m trying not to be insensitive,” I went on, “but I don’t get it. You don’t want me to fix things for you, but you don’t need me to fix this. You want somebody’s permission to ask for five hundred thousand? You’ve got it. It’s your life, and it”s your choice. I’d probably do the same, to tell you the truth. Well, I‘d probably ask for a million. Two, possibly. Two million pounds makes a pretty good launching pad. You could buy a good house with that and still send Delilah to university. You may want to think about asking for enough to open your own firm. You can’t tell me you don’t have ideas for one.”
“You did do the same thing yourself, though,” she said. “You don’t want Hemi Te Mana’s money, as an investment or any other way. You can’t stand the idea.”
“True,” I said. “Not the same in my view, but OK. What am I missing?”
“The thing is,” she said, “there’s something else that keeps getting in the way, that I’m running up against every time I try to think about this. And I need to tell you about that, too. The thing that made me numb for so long, besides Felipe and the trial and the bankruptcy and my mom dying. I didn’t even realize it until this weekend, when all this sort of … boiled up. It’s hard, though, because I’ve never told anyone. I’m not asking you to be my support animal, it’s just …”
“That when you love somebody,” I said, “you share the hard stuff. Because you need to, and because they want to help you carry it.”
“Yes,” she said, her face completely sober. Looking into my eyes the way she had that day on my bed. Wide open. “I think that’s why. I know you thought I was a coward, that day I left. You were right. But I don’t have to be a coward anymore. If I want to be free, I can’t be like Felipe, shying away from that pit of need and pain inside me. It’s time to face it. It’s time to stop running.”