DANCING WITH THE ICE LADY. Ken Salter
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abandoned their families and kids. Taxpayers have to pay the freight for raising the kids and they’re hopping mad about paying for the offspring of deadbeat dads and screaming in anyone’s ear who’ll listen. Judges and legislators listen because they have to face these angry folks to get elected. If a judge approved a private agreement between parties that let the father off the hook for child support, every shyster lawyer representing deadbeat clients would be drafting similar agreements. There’d be a taxpayers’ revolt worse than when they froze property tax increases.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Toni barked. “What you’re talking about is fraud. Male pricks taking advantage of women who don’t know any better.”
“You got that right, little sister!” Saundra added her grain of salt from her receptionist’s desk.Toni was working up a head of steam and Saundra was stoking her boilers. Marcie was still waiting to pick her moment to jump into the fray and badger me.
I rambled on. “In addition to the state’s interest to see that men support the kids they father, there’s also a requirement in the law that the biological father cannot be deprived of his parental rights which include visitation and often shared custody; it’s in the Civil Code.” I regretted my words the moment uttered them. But it was too late. Marcie saw her opening to pounce.
“That’s really the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” Marcie spit her words at me. “The whole damned Code reinforces the paternalistic order and power structure. The male can be a cheat, can be a wife-beater, rape his wife, his daughter and her friends, but he still retains his rights under the law, doesn’t he?” Marcie said in a hectoring voice.
I was primed to respond to the way Marcie twisted what I said. A mother could do drugs, beat her kids, sell her body with kids in the house, carve up her husband or boyfriend and act coarsely or lewdly in her kids’ presence and she, too, would not lose her presumptive custody rights in most cases under the Civil Code and precedent cases. Still, she was right about the paternalistic bias in the law and its enforcement. I wisely did not contest her conclusions.
“Fuckin’ right!” Toni Perkins screamed. “That’s what’s wrong with the whole stinking system. Nancy and me got no rights ‘cause we’re lesbians. The whole male patriarchy is against us. We make the kids and the male legislators and judges protect their power and interests by giving superior rights to the kids’ fathers.”
Toni huffed and puffed and was nearly out of breath when she paused in her diatribe. She had history on her side. The mostly male members of the California legislature had voted consistently not to allow gay couples to marry or adopt kids; this proscription caused all kinds of legal problems for them; in addition to the problems with marriage, kids and custody, they suffered legal inequality in matters of inheritance, medical insurance and taxes and a host of other concerns. I could have pointed out that Benny and his partner suffered the same discrimination vis-à-vis the law and public opinion, but what was the point? Better to let Toni and Marcie blow off steam.
Saundra’s head bobbed affirmatively to everything they said. Even though she was much more conservative in her views than the other woman, she was the granddaughter of slaves and could easily identify with racial discrimination and the excesses of paternalistic power. She let me know on my first day of work that she was no woman to mess with. She was real good at using her back-home ways to charm and put Nate’s “Berkeley Girls” (BG’s to us) at ease, but underneath that veneer lurked a hard-nosed woman with strong views, who brokered no nonsense from anyone and who knew exactly what she wanted.
Saundra has darker skin than me and speaks white folks’ talk just as well as or better than me. She’s in her early thirties and unmarried. She let me know in the first thirty minutes of my first day of work that she was strictly “off limits” to a no-account upstart like me, who’d completed his law degree but hadn’t got around to taking the state’s bar exam.
Saundra had a high, prominent derriere that many African-American men find exciting. She wears her form-fitting skirts so they accentuate the bounce of her buns. When she walks her walk, heads turn to notice. She looks as good coming as she does going. Saundra isn’t worried about the ticking of any biological clock. She’s set her sights on a man with money, brains, and a nineteenth-century belief that marriage is forever.
I knew Saundra would have it out with me, but not in front of others. She’d wait to get me alone and give me a piece of her mind in our own black patois which we don’t speak in the presence of whites. She was giving me the evil eye while I was trying to figure a way to get Toni Perkins off my back. Saundra must have been reading my mind.
“Toni, you can see that R.C. hasn’t got anything new on your case. I know that for a fact because Mister Green hasn’t received a response on our last offer yet from Benny’s lawyer. Why don’t I make an appointment with the boss for next week when he’s sure to have a reply to discuss with you. R.C. still has to see Marcie before he leaves.”
Saundra solved the problem of Toni nicely by undercutting my authority and locking me into a showdown with Marcie over the Gloria Simmons case; her deft move was accomplished with wicked smiles exchanged with Marcie. They were both tough cookies and meant to play hardball on the Simmons matter. Toni Perkins was just a warmup act.
Marcie crooked her finger and I followed her to her office. Her face reminded me of a bear trap I’d seen in a Gold Rush museum along Highway 49 in the Sierra Nevada. I could envision its huge metal teeth ready to snap shut on my arm or leg. Gotcha! She pointed to a seat in front of her desk and shut the door.
Marcie was in her late forties, twice divorced and often bitter about her predicament. Who wouldn’t be? She saw only the ugly side of men’s character day in and day out. Rumor had it that she was one of Nate’s BG’s years ago, before my time. She was very protective of Nate for reasons only they were privy to. She knew his tastes and quirks better than his wife who spent her mornings puttering in her garden until hitting the sauce in the early afternoon. It was also rumored she and Nate were getting it on every now and then when they could travel out of town together on a case or to a convention. Marcie was clever enough not to leave a trail of smoke and I didn’t care to look for a fire. If Nate and Marcie could find a way to get it on together, then “Praise the Lord,” as Dad would say.
Marcie was well-preserved for her age with a trim figure; she went to great lengths to dress to de-emphasize her ample bosom. Her dark, wavy hair fell to her shoulders; its natural grey highlights gave her an aura of maturity and authority. She always dressed in pant suits. I’d never seen her wear a dress.
“I’m going to tell you something important, R.C., and I want you to hear me out. I’ve been working here for sixteen years and I know Nate better than you or anyone else ever will. In this office, relationships have to be based on trust and mutual respect if we’re to get our jobs done. You need to get it through your thick head that Nate’s in trouble and that you, Saundra and I have to work together to get Nate out of it.”
“Marcie, I really don’t know what’s going on. I never heard of Gloria Simmons before today. As far as I know, it’s just a routine divorce case.”
“Come off it, R.C. Don’t give me that innocent, little boy shit. The Simmons woman’s case is no ordinary case and your pecker knows it. She’s a high-priced gold digger with a well-earned reputation for blowing her way to the top of the heap. She’s got shark’s teeth that bite deep and there’s a trail of blood and broken dicks everywhere she goes. She’s ruthless and extremely dangerous. Nate’s way over his head representing her. There’s no way he should be handling her case and you know it. If we don’t arrive at an understanding and cooperate to help him, he’s going to get hurt really bad. And if Nate gets hurt, I’ll see that you get hurt too.”
Marcie’s threats were very direct and troubling. I knew she meant to have me fired if I didn’t play her game. She was right, of course. Mrs. Simmons was no ordinary client and Nate was just as infatuated with her as I was. I also wondered why Nate was handling her case when he was clearly out of her league. Marcie had her own sources of information. She’d worked elections for many liberal Democratic candidates in Berkeley and Oakland and had developed