Chapter Twenty-Six
Jake
At eight-twenty, Serenity sends me a text. He’s here, she says.
At the house, we’ve already had dinner. Though I wasn’t hungry, my stomach tied up in knots. The TV is on. Gramps and I are both wearing suits. He thought we’d be taken more seriously that way. Sat on the couch opposite me, I give him a nod and slide my phone back into my inside pocket.
‘So, remind me where it is you’re going tonight?’ Mom asks innocently, without taking her eyes off her property show.
‘Uh, it’s a hotel bar over on Main,’ I tell her. ‘I forget what it’s called exactly.’
‘And your father is not invited, why? He was an NFL player too.’
She already doesn’t like that I surprised her with a visit from Gramps yesterday, or that he’s not wanted to spend every second of his day with her today.
‘Figured I don’t wanna be seen like I’m bragging, you know?
’ I tell her. ‘Besides, the guys just wanna shake hands with the legend that is Art Mackabee. They can meet Dad anytime. Some of them have already.’
On the other couch, River puts her arms around my dad’s shoulders. ‘You’re still a legend to me, Daddy,’ she murmurs. ‘Even if you were never a quarterback.’
‘Everybody just loves a quarterback,’ Dad replies with a sigh of acceptance.
‘You snapped that ball with the best of ’em,’ River says, by way of consolation, rubbing his head. ‘It’s a shame nobody was paying attention.’
Dad rolls his eyes playfully at her.
River knows everything. She was desperate to accompany us, just so she could see the inside of a strip club. I managed to talk her down. She knows why we’re going, and why she can’t come along.
‘Shall we go then?’ Gramps says, getting to his feet, and I do the same. He then picks up a black zip-up binder – the contents of which I hope will be Serenity’s salvation and her ticket out of working for Kale McCoy.
‘Have fun you guys,’ River says, and checking Mom and Dad aren’t looking my way, holds up two crossed fingers toward me.
I offer her a nervous smile in return.
‘Yes, go enjoy yourselves,’ Mom says. ‘Daddy, don’t you be getting carried away now. I know what happens when younger players start offering to buy you a beer.’
‘I’ll be on my best behavior,’ Gramps mumbles as we head for the door.
At Surly’s, the music is loud and the lights are low. I follow Gramps inside the entrance, the both of us bathed in a glow the shade of neon pink.
‘You ever been to a strip club before?’ I ask him over the noise.
‘A few, back in the day,’ he responds to my surprise. ‘They just weren’t dressed up quite as nice as this one.’
We pay the entry fee. I’ve kept my cap on, as I know from Serenity that the CCTV is extensive. A waitress shows us to a table near the stage and she gives Gramps an odd look, as though he’s a senior citizen and looks a little too respectable for a joint such as this.
‘I’m here to speak to Jaxon,’ I tell her, and she gives me a nod. We order a couple of beers. The girl on stage is not Serenity. She’s raven-haired and dancing wearing only a thong and a pink feather boa. She seems popular with the guys surrounding the stage.
Gramps watches her.
‘You think we can do this?’ I ask him.
He drags his eyes from the stage and fixes my stare. ‘Depends on whether our friend Mr McCoy is prepared to play hardball.’
It’s a while before Jaxon makes his appearance. He wears jeans and a jacket, a logo on his T-shirt that’s snug around his belly.
‘You’re Jake, right?’
I stand and we shake hands. ‘Yes. This is Art Mackabee,’ I say, introducing my grandfather.
Jaxon seems a little nervous. ‘Mr McCoy’s in the office. I’m gonna tell him you’re here like we discussed. Wait here. Like I said to Serenity, I can’t promise nothing, okay?’
‘I appreciate you trying,’ I tell him.
From what Serenity has told me, Jaxon’s always had her back, and he knows her situation.
He disappears. It’s some minutes before he returns, and this time, there’s a guy with him, the size of a house.
‘Mr McCoy will see you,’ Jaxon says. ‘This is Hurley. You’ll be frisked. That’s standard. You got a problem with that, you can head on home.’
I nod in agreement. Gramps gets to his feet, holding his leather binder.
As we’re directed backstage, I glance left and right, searching for Serenity.
I glimpse her for the briefest of moments, and she grants me a hopeful smile, and I’m glad she knows that we’re here.
Seeing her makes my chest ache, and I know how much I want this meeting to succeed.
The pair of us don’t have time to exchange words as a split second later, the guy called Hurley is roughly frisking me, checking my pockets, then doing the same to Gramps.
When Jaxon opens the door to the office, my heart starts to thud.
I go in first. Gramps thought it would be best if I made the introductions, to lull Kale McCoy into thinking that my grandfather’s just a useless old man.
I remove my cap. I note that Jaxon doesn’t remain in the room.
‘Mr McCoy,’ I say, keeping things polite. Southerners like their hospitality. ‘Thank you for agreeing to speak to us. My name is Jake Walsh and this is Art Mackabee.’
We shake hands. Kale McCoy’s got a firm grip. He eyeballs me but pays little attention to Gramps. He then indicates that we should sit down, where two seats have been placed facing the desk. The guard, Hurley, remains with his back to the door.
‘What can I do for you, gentlemen?’ McCoy ventures.
I hold my ground. ‘We’re here to talk to you about Serenity Harper.’
At my words, his eyes slant just a fraction, as though that’s not what he was expecting me to say. ‘Serenity?’
He leans back in his chair. Goes back to eyeballing me. ‘That’s right,’ he says eventually. ‘I know you. You’re that guy. You were here. You’re the pro football player.’
‘Yes, sir, I am.’
He looks to my grandfather for an extended moment. ‘So, he’s here to beg me to let Serenity go. What does that make you?’
‘His lawyer,’ Gramps says. ‘I’m here to ensure nobody fucks around.’
McCoy leans his elbows on the surface of his desk.
‘Then this is gonna be a very short meeting, old man. Let me make this clear to you, gentlemen. Serenity belongs to me. I don’t care who her boyfriend is, so long as she shows up and keeps those dollar bills rolling in.
So, I suggest you get the fuck out of my club. ’
He says the word ‘boyfriend’ looking right at me. Neither me nor Gramps moves a muscle. So far, exactly as expected. ‘This is a very nice venue you have here, sir,’ I say. ‘But with no disrespect to you, you keeping Serenity here like a slave… it’s not gonna fly. Not anymore.’
McCoy lets out a derisive snort. ‘Slave. She’s hardly chained up in the basement.’
Gramps clears his throat. It’s overexaggerated. McCoy glares at him like the old man might have a heart attack right here on the floor of his office.
This time, Gramps is the one eyeballing McCoy. ‘Have you ever heard of debt bondage, Mr McCoy?’
‘Debt bondage?’
‘It’s a form of modern slavery. Compulsory labor.
Indentured servitude. It is banned in international law, in most domestic jurisdictions and in all fifty of our great United States.
People in debt bondage very often work for wages below that of the federally mandated minimum, often based on a verbal ‘at-will’ contract, with none of the required employment conditions, such as family leave, sick leave or mandatory breaks.
The agreement that was entered into by yourself and Ms Harper was consistently anchored in your favor.
You waited until she was of legal age before you took advantage of her and employed her on the basis that she would work for you to pay off her father’s financial debt.
US federal law considers the use of debt, or the threat of financial hostage-taking, as a form of coercion for forced labor.
You, sir, are therefore breaking the law. ’
Watching my Gramps tear shreds off this motherfucker, I’ve never been happier. I can see a muscle flexing in McCoy’s jaw, his face like thunder. When Gramps stops speaking, McCoy sits back in his chair, as though he’s just survived an onslaught.
In football, we call it a dog pile.
‘Furthermore,’ Gramps continues, and McCoy’s brow creeps up his forehead, ‘you and Ms Harper have both kept a ledger for the duration of her time in servitude. Not only did you withhold all her tips, you failed to adequately recompense her for her time served as a dancer at this establishment, and you refused her a salary to allow her to increase the amount of debt she was able to repay during every shift she worked. As her employer, you were legally obliged to pay her the federally mandated minimum wage, which you denied. Again, sir, you broke the law, on top of the several laws you had already broken.’
It’s hard to tell in this light, but McCoy looks like he’s turned a shade of beetroot.
Nothing’s holding Gramps back. ‘And so, to conclude. I have studied Ms Harper’s ledger in detail.
As she helpfully documented all the hours she worked in your establishment, since the day she turned eighteen, including most federal holidays, by my calculations, at the Texan minimum wage rate, she has fully repaid the debt owed to you by her father, minus thirty dollars and eighty-six cents.
You should consider that a good deal, because I know you pay your other girls a lot more. ’
McCoy brings both his clenched fists down hard on the surface of the desk. ‘Enough! Get the hell out of here, both of you! Hurley, escort these two out. Bar them for life.’
I glance back. The man mountain that is Hurley approaches. I look at Gramps and we both get to our feet. McCoy can’t even look us in the eye.
I hold out my hand. ‘Thank you for your time, sir.’
He slaps it away. ‘Fuck you! Get out!’
I straighten my suit jacket and allow Gramps to walk out in front of me. Hurley opens the door and neither one of us looks back.