[2013] Consequential Damages Read online

  CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES

  JOSEPH HAYES

  DEDICATION

  To Susan, With All My Love

  DEFINITION

  Consequential Damages: Loss, harm or damage that, while not an immediate or direct result of a certain initial act, is a foreseeable consequence of such act.

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER 1

  “Hey, Jake! You in there?”

  Jake McShane lifted his bleary eyes from his Criminal Law book and glanced at his roommate, Tony Scarano. Tony was prone on his bed, a thick book lying open across his face, muffling the deep breathing of a restful sleep.

  “Come on, Jake. Open the goddamn door!” The door shook from the pounding of a huge fist on the other side.

  Jake looked at his watch. Realizing that the banging was not about to stop, he the trudged across the room and flung open the door. He found himself face-to-face with Mike Mitchell, also known as “Big Mike,” a mountain of a man who had been an All-American wrestler at Notre Dame as well as a Rhodes Scholar.

  Despite the urgent pounding and the authoritative tone, Mike had a relaxed and playful air about him. “Man, you look like shit,” he said.

  “Right back at you,” Jake replied, even though he knew it wasn’t true. For a first-year law student, Mike actually looked remarkably relaxed and well rested.

  “It’s dinnertime. Let’s grab a bite. The cafeteria’s closing in ten minutes.”

  “Sorry, Mike. Can’t break away right now. Thanks for asking.”

  “You gotta eat! A little break will do you good.”

  “I just had a protein bar. Probably better than whatever slop they’re serving in the cafeteria today.” Jake checked his watch again. “I’ve got to get back to it. See ya, Mike.” He closed the door in Mike’s face without waiting for a reply.

  For the next three hours, Jake didn’t stir. He sat transfixed at his desk, nothing moving but his eyes as he pored over his textbooks and his notes. Tony sat at the adjacent desk, also immersed in his books since his blissful nap had come to an abrupt halt as a result of Mike’s visit. Another knock interrupted the silence, this one a bit more tentative than Big Mike’s. Tony didn’t budge. Jake let out a deep breath, shook his head briskly as if to awaken himself, and then got up and opened the door. In the hallway was Kelly Conrad, a fellow law student who lived across the hall.

  “Hey handsome. How about buying me a beer?” the petite blond asked, posing suggestively, or at least attempting to.

  Jake just stared at her, at a complete loss for words.

  “I may even let you have your way with me,” she said in a sultry voice.

  Jake stared at her for another moment, looking utterly bewildered. Then they simultaneously burst into laughter. Kelly would be a catch for any guy – brilliant, ridiculously cute, fun, upbeat and perky. To Jake, however, she was just one of the guys. When the first year law students at Stanford met a few months ago, Kelly had made it clear that she was focused on her studies and had no intention of dating anyone, particularly another law student. She, Jake and the other third floor residents of Weston Hall, the law school dormitory, had become fast friends. The idea of her propositioning Jake struck him as utterly absurd.

  “Thanks for the offer, Kelly, but I’ll have to pass. I’ve got a date tonight with my Civil Procedure books.”

  Kelly put on an exaggerated pout face. “Ouch! That hurts! Come on! Just one beer. You need a break. You look like shit.”

  “Another time.”

  “I bet you wouldn’t say no if I was Rick, your man-crush,” she teased.

  “Bye, Kelly.” He closed the door before she could argue any further.

  Tony pushed his books away and put his feet up on his desk. He leaned back, put his hands behind his head and looked at Jake. “I think our classmates are getting concerned about you. They may have a point, you know. Maybe you should consider taking it down a notch. You don’t want to burn out before finals.”

  “I’m alright, Tony. Really.” Jake walked over to the window and stared out at the sprawling campus below. “In spite of how it may look at the moment, I’m in a good place. I love being here. I love Stanford. I love California. I even love studying law. I just want to be sure that I stay here and don’t blow it.”

  “You’re not going to blow it. You’re as capable as anyone here.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Look at our classmates. They’re from Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Berkeley, MIT. Look at you – double Harvard, undergrad and master’s degree! I’m just a guy from the South Side of Chicago with a very unremarkable pedigree. Let’s face it – the University of Illinois at Chicago isn’t exactly Ivy League. So, I’ve got to prove to myself and everyone else that I belong here. And I’m going to work as hard as I need to – whatever it takes – to make sure I do that. Even if it means passing up a proposition from our cute little blond friend across the hall! Besides, I’ve been getting all the relaxation I need from our basketball outings with Rick.”

  “Well maybe you can learn something else from Rick besides basketball. He’s more relaxed than any of us. You don’t see him breaking any study records.”

  “Agreed. But that’s not a fair comparison. Aside from being a basketball stud, he’s just off-the-charts brilliant. That’s obvious every time he opens his mouth in class. Anyway, we’re playing tomorrow afternoon, right? I’ll take a break then.”

  Jake remembered the excitement he had felt upon meeting Rick Black at the beginning of the semester. Like Jake, Rick was from Chicago, although he had lived on the other side of town. Jake knew of him because Rick was an all-state basketball player in high school, who then he went to Indiana University, where he was the starting point guard on the team that made it to the NCAA championship game last spring. To college basketball junkies, including Jake, Rick Black was a rock star. And now they were classmates at Stanford Law School. More than that, they had become good friends. Jake, Rick and Tony had developed a bond, partly based on their mutual love of basketball and partly as a result of the close connection that often forms when people are thrown together into a supremely challenging situation. In this case, that situation was being first year students together at Stanford Law School, perhaps the premier law school in the nation.

  From the time of his arrival in late August, Jake had become completely enamored of his new surroundings and his new life. Palo Alto, California seemed like a different universe to Jake, who had never lived anywhere other than the South Side of Chicago. The lush vegetation, the palm trees, the hills, and the constant sunshine contrasted sharply with the gritty grey flatness back home and filled him with a positive energy every moment he spent outdoors. Being just one hour south of San Francisco was an added bonus.

  As the semester began, Jake and the other first-year law students had quickly settled into their new routines. For nearly everyone, that meant finding a way to devote massive amounts of time to studying—without losing their sanity. Just doing the bare minimum to keep up was a strain. Trying to do more than that and truly master the material seemed an impossibility.

  Despite the crushing workload, Jake was determined to make time to enjoy the experience of life in California. He was enthralled by this place, and had no intention of spending all of his daylight hours under the fluorescent lights of the law library. He developed a routine that enabled him to spend time every afternoon enjoying the outdoor life California had to offer. He would awaken and be at the books by six o’clock. He would study hard until classes began, and would use every minute between classes as study time—until three o’clock rolled around. At that time, he would don his running shoes and take a leisurely jog around campus. That proved to be an excellent way to familiariz
e himself with the surrounding area and soak in the California scenery. He usually finished up at the gym and lifted weights for thirty minutes before casually strolling across campus back toward the dorm. Then he would shower, have dinner, and hustle back to the law library with a clear head for several more hours of study time. By nine thirty or ten o’clock, he would pack it in and wind down by quietly playing his guitar for a short while before bed.

  Most of the other first-year students had found their rhythm as well. Their routines varied, but the one constant was spending massive amounts of time studying. Rick Black was an anomaly. The prodigious work habits of his peers in no way rubbed off on him. To the contrary, he continually chided his classmates for being compulsive, workaholic bores. Despite his cavalier attitude, however, he was attentive and participative in class, and always performed exceedingly well when called upon.

  In late September, Jake had changed his afternoon exercise routine after Rick had approached him and Tony and announced that he was forming a basketball team to compete in the school’s intramural league. For Jake, the opportunity to play with the Big Ten superstar was a thrill. Although intramurals would not begin until second semester, Jake, Rick and Tony began playing every afternoon at three o’clock to sharpen their games.

  For the next several weeks, Jake, Tony and Rick had made afternoon basketball part of their daily routine. Following their games, they would casually stroll past the law school on their way back to the dorm, basketball in hand. They derived a sort of perverse pleasure from the bewildered looks they received from their classmates, who wondered how these guys could be so relaxed about their studies that they had time for basketball in the middle of the day.

  The afternoon following the mercy visits from Big Mike and Kelly, Jake and Tony joined Rick for their usual three o’clock basketball game. As they walked back towards the dorm under a brilliant October sky, Rick asked the others, “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Sorry, can't make it,” Jake replied. “I really need to start gearing up for finals. I’m not as far along as I should be.”

  “Finals? Come on, Jake, finals are six weeks away,” Rick said. “You're not turning into one of those compulsive grinds, are you?”

  “Hey, six weeks isn’t much time,” Jake replied. “Last night I looked over all the material we need to know, and the sheer volume is mind-boggling. I figure it’ll take me four weeks to prepare my outlines and then I'll need the final two weeks to do some serious cramming.”

  Tony agreed. “I went through the same drill. I've put together a timetable for outlining each of my classes, and realized that I need to get started—now. I think most people already have a pretty good jump on us.”

  “I get a knot in my stomach just thinking about it,” Jake added. “I'm not used to having my entire grade determined by the one exam, and these grades will really count when we’re interviewing for clerkships next year. The stakes are high!”

  Rick looked from one to the other, and his sarcastic demeanor abruptly transformed into one of determination. “Sounds like it’s time to get my game face on,” he said. “I’ve been coasting at a pretty easy pace, but I guess it’s time to shift into high gear. I need to do at least well enough to kick your butt, McShane. You and I will be the only ones here vying for the top jobs in Chicago, and I have no intention of getting aced out by the likes of you!” Although he said it with a smile on his face, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice indicated that he was absolutely serious.

  As November wore on, the intensity level steadily escalated. Jake still allowed himself an afternoon exercise break, but it was limited to a thirty minute run, and then he promptly returned to the books, usually without taking the time to shower. He found himself using his running time to mentally review the outlines he was developing.

  Everyone was in outlining mode. It was the universally applied method of preparing for law school finals. The basic concept was to take the massive amount of information covered during the semester and condense it down to its essential points in the form of an outline for each subject, which then became the primary study vehicle for the final exam. For many students, the outlines themselves turned out to be as long as a good-sized textbook.

  Jake approached the outlining process with his usual sense of organization and discipline. He developed a study plan that covered every day between early November and the beginning of finals. Sticking to his plan proved to be more difficult than he anticipated, however. He still had to keep up with all of his classes, in addition to preparing his outlines. Even after giving up most of his afternoon free time, he found himself falling behind, so he began starting his day at five a.m. rather than six.

  The atmosphere in the dorm was different now. Previously, it had always been pleasant and collegial, despite the workload and the self-imposed pressure. Now, it was tense, and the residents were often irritable and short-tempered.

  On Wednesday evening, the day before Thanksgiving, few students were left in the dorm. Jake, Tony and Rick were among the small crowd in the dining room because they were either too far from home, too broke to afford the trip, or just too intent on studying to tear themselves away for the long weekend. The combination of study overload and having a Thanksgiving with nowhere to go had the three of them in a bleak mood.

  “I need to get away from this place,” Rick grumbled.

  “Pressure getting to you, Rick?” asked Tony.

  “I'll tell you what's getting to me,” replied Rick. “It's that goddamn Elliott,” he said, referring to his roommate. “He's driving me crazy! Every night he's on the phone with his parents, griping about how he hates it here and wants to quit. I'm sick of listening to it! I keep telling him he should quit if the pressure is making him that miserable, but he wants Mommy and Daddy to tell him it's okay.”

  “The pressure is getting to a lot of folks around here, Rick. It's not just Elliott,” Jake pointed out.

  “Well, he’s losing it and he’s driving me mental in the process. I've got to get away from here. What would you guys say to a road trip? Lake Tahoe is less than four hours away. We could spend a night or two in the casinos and recharge our batteries.”

  “I can't take that much time,” Jake replied. “I'm too far behind as it is.”

  “Same here,” said Tony, sounding gloomy. Then his face brightened. “Hey, how about a shorter trip? We could head up the coast late in the morning, drive a couple of hours north of San Francisco, and still get back by early evening. I’ve heard that the coastal route there is spectacular.”

  “Fine with me,” said Rick. “I've just got to get a break, even if it's a short one. Jake?”

  Jake hesitated and looked troubled. This was a deviation from his study plans.

  “Come on,” urged Tony, starting to feel some enthusiasm. “A little break will do you good.”

  “Okay, I'm in,” said Jake. “We can get in a solid morning of studying and leave around noon. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Rick.

  “See you guys in the morning,” said Jake, as they all went their separate ways for an evening with their outlines.

  They met in front of the dorm at noon. “Nice ride!” said Tony, as he surveyed Rick's shiny black BMW convertible. “How the hell did you afford this?”

  “It was a graduation present from my old man,” explained Rick. “My basketball scholarship saved him some hefty college tuition bills, so this was payback.”

  “What a great dad,” said Jake.

  “Nah, he's a real schmuck,” said Rick. “Wouldn’t even talk to me all summer after we lost the NCAA championship. But at least he didn’t take the car back!”

  Traffic was light as they drove through San Francisco and then across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County. All three of them felt law school fading from their thoughts as they took in the spectacular scenery. A short time later, they had left the scenic marinas and hillside dwellings behind and found themselves driving north along the
Pacific Coast Highway. To their left, the Pacific Ocean spread out in its vastness. To their right were the steep and rugged coastal mountains. The narrow two-lane road twisted and turned as it cut through the jagged wall of pine-covered rock, hundreds of feet above the crashing surf. Jake and Tony stared in quiet amazement, their silence punctuated only by a recurring chorus of awe-inspired utterances such as, “Wow, look at that!” or “Unbelievable!” or “Holy Shit!” as each turn in the road revealed even more stunning vistas.

  Rick had been proceeding cautiously along the tortuous road, especially as he navigated the innumerable blind curves. Even at a modest pace, Tony and Jake could feel their fists clenching and their stomachs tensing as they beheld the precipitous cliffs just feet, if not inches, from their vehicle. Their right legs instinctively shot forward as if searching in vain for some imaginary brake pedal. Rick’s confidence in his driving and in his vehicle quickly mounted, and he began putting the BMW through its paces, accelerating aggressively between blind spots and leaning into sharp turns, his face inches from the steering wheel. The fear felt by his passengers rose in direct proportion to the aggressive enthusiasm of their driver.

  “Look how this baby handles, boys!” Rick shouted. “Nothing like a BMW!” He whooped and hollered with a gleeful yet maniacal look on his face as he gunned the engine and sped around hairpin turns, while Jake and Tony implored him to slow down. Eventually, the road descended to sea level, and they found a small cluster of buildings, one of which was a rustic looking café that happened to be open for business despite the slow traffic of Thanksgiving Day. As luck would have it, they were serving traditional Thanksgiving fare—sliced turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes—so the three classmates had the unexpected pleasure of a holiday dinner in the middle of the afternoon. They ordered a round of beer before their food arrived and Tony exclaimed, “Jeez, Rick, I didn't think I would live to see my next meal. You drive like a goddamn maniac.”