Title:The Associate
Author(s): John Grisham
Publisher(s): Del
Pages: 434
Year: 2009
Format: EPUB
Language: English
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After the fourth knock, the door was quietly opened with no effort because Baxter hadn$prime;t bothered to lock it. The two men, specialists in retrieving wayward family members with addiction problems, found Baxter on his bed, still dressed in last night$prime;s getup—white
linen shirt stained with some strain of liquor, black linen Zegna sport coat, bleached designer jeans, Bragano loafers, no socks over his very tanned ankles. He was comatose, breathing heavy but not snoring. Still alive but not for long, not at the rate he was going.
They quickly searched the bedroom and adjoining bathroom for weapons. Both men were armed, but their handguns were hidden under their jackets. Then they radioed to a waiting car, and another man entered the condo. He was Baxter$prime;s uncle, a man named Walter Tate. Uncle Wally, brother to Baxter$prime;s father, the only one of five siblings who had accomplished anything in life. The family banking fortune was now three generations old and declining at a steady, but not alarming, rate. The last time Walter had seen his nephew he was in a lawyer$prime;s office in Pittsburgh cleaning up after another drunk-driving episode.
Because his four siblings were unable to make even the most basic decisions in life, Walter had long since assumed the role of the family boss. He watched the investments, met with the lawyers, handled the press when necessary, and reluctantly intervened when one of his nieces or nephews flamed out. His own son had been killed hang gliding.
This was his second intervention with Baxter, and it would be the last. The first had been two years earlier, also in L.A., and they had shipped the boy off to a ranch in Montana where he sobered up, rode horses, made new friends, saw the light. Sobriety lasted all of two weeks after he returned to his worthless career in Hollywood. Walter$prime;s limit was two rehabs. After that, they could kill themselves for all he cared.
Baxter had been dead to the world for about nine hours when Uncle Wally shook his leg long enough and hard enough to rouse him from his drunkenness. The sight of three strange men standing by his bed startled him. He backed away from them, scrambling to the other end of the bed, then he recognized Uncle Wally. He$prime;d lost some hair,
put on a few pounds. How long had it been? The family never got together; in fact, the family strove mightily to avoid one another.
Baxter rubbed his eyes, then his temples. A skull-cracking headache arrived suddenly. He looked at Uncle Wally, then at the two strangers. «Well, well,» he said. «How$prime;s Aunt Rochelle?»
Rochelle had been the first of Walter$prime;s wives, but she was the only one Baxter ever remembered. She had terrified him as a child, and he would always despise her.