After another long pause, Gordy said, “There’s no way out. We’ve been lied to, misled, scammed, and suckered into this miserable place. There’s no way out.”
Todd slowly got to his feet and stepped to the wall. He pointed to the center of it and asked, “What is Sorvann Lenders?”
Gordy snorted another fake laugh and said, “The rest of the story. Rackley, through another company, and this guy has more fronts than a low-rent strip mall, owns Sorvann, which is now the fourth-largest private student lender. If you can’t get enough cash from the government, then you go private, where, surprise, surprise, the interest rates are higher and the debt collectors make the Mafia look like Cub Scouts. Sorvann lends to undergrads as well and has about ninety million in its portfolio. It’s a growing company. Evidently, Rackley smells blood on the private side as well.”
Todd asked, “And what is Passant?”
Another pained laugh. Gordy slowly climbed to his feet and walked to the table, where he grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. He grimaced, swallowed hard, wiped his mouth with his forearm, and finally said, “Passant is Piss Ant, third-largest student loan collecting racket in the country. It’s under contract to the Department of Education to ‘service,’ as they like to say, student debt. There’s over a trillion dollars out there, owed by fools like us. Passant is a bunch of terrorists, been sued a number of times for abusive debt collection practices. Rackley owns a chunk of it. The man is pure evil.”
Gordy walked to the sofa and sat next to Zola. As he passed, Mark got a strong whiff of his body odor. Todd walked to the kitchenette, stepped around the debris on the floor, opened the fridge, and pulled out two cans of beer. He handed one to Mark and both popped the tops. Zola rubbed Gordy’s leg, oblivious to his odors.
Mark nodded at the wall and asked, “So how long have you been working on this?”
“That’s not important. There’s more to the story if you care to hear it.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Mark said. “For now anyway. How about we walk around the corner and get a pizza? Mario’s is still open.”
“Great idea,” Todd said, but no one moved.
Gordy finally said, “My parents are on the hook for ninety thousand of my debt, private stuff I carried over from college. Can you believe that? They were hesitant, and for good reason, but I pushed them hard. What an idiot! My dad makes fifty thousand a year selling farm equipment and owed nothing but a mortgage until I started borrowing. Mom works part-time at the school. I’ve lied to them, told them I have a great job all lined up and I could handle the repayments. I’ve lied to Brenda too. She thinks we’ll be living in the big city where I’ll hustle off to work each day in a nice suit, eager to claw my way to the top. I’m in a bit of a jam, guys, and I see no way out.”
“We’ll survive, Gordy,” Mark said, but without conviction.
“We’ll get through it,” Todd said, without specifying which “it” he was referring to. Law school? The debt? Unemployment? Or Gordy’s breakdown? There were so many challenges at the moment.
Another long, dreary pause. Mark and Todd quietly sipped their beers.
Gordy said, “How can we expose Rackley? I’ve thought about sitting down with a reporter, someone who covers the legal beat for the Post or maybe the Journal. I’ve even thought about a class action lawsuit against the crook. Think of the thousands of young idiots like us who are on the same sinking ship and would love to take a shot at the guy once the truth is out.”
Mark said, “I don’t see a lawsuit. I mean, sure, he’s put together a brilliant scheme but he hasn’t done anything that’s actionable. There’s no law against owning diploma mills, even though he’s trying his best to hide it. His law firms can hire whoever they want. Sleazy, unfair, deceitful, but not enough for a lawsuit.”
“Agreed,” Todd said. “But I love the idea of helping an investigative reporter hammer the guy.”
Zola asked, “Wasn’t there a case in California where a law student sued her law school because she couldn’t find a job?”
Mark replied, “Yes, there have been several, all dismissed but for the one in California. It went to trial and the jury found in favor of the law school.”
Gordy said, “I’m not giving up on the lawsuit. It’s the best way to expose Rackley. Can you imagine what discovery would be like?”
“All fun and games, but he’s not stupid,” Mark said. “Hell, he owns four law firms. Just think of the heavy artillery he’d throw at you. The plaintiffs would spend the next five years drowning in paperwork.”
“What do you know about lawsuits?” Gordy asked.
“Everything. I’ve been educated at Foggy Bottom.”
“I rest my case.”
The lame effort at humor passed and they stared at the floor. Finally, Todd said, “Come on, Gordy, let’s go get a pizza.”
“I’m not going anywhere but I think you guys should leave.”
“Then we’re not leaving either,” Mark said. “We’re staying here.”
“Why? I don’t need a babysitter. Get out.”
Todd, still standing, walked to the sofa and stared down at Gordy. “Let’s talk about you, Gordy, you and your condition. You’re not sleeping or eating, or bathing for that matter. Are you taking your meds?”
“What meds?”
“Come on, Gordy. We’re your friends and we’re here to help.”
“What meds?” he demanded.
“Come on, Gordy, we know what’s going on,” Mark said.
Gordy turned to Zola and growled, “What have you told them?”
Zola was about to respond when Todd said, “Nothing. She’s told us nothing, but we’re not blind, Gordy, we’re your best friends and you need some help.”
“I don’t need meds,” he snapped back, then bolted to his feet, brushed by Todd, and went to his bedroom. Seconds later he yelled, “Get out of here!” and slammed the door. They took a deep breath and stared at each other. Seconds later, the door opened and Gordy came out. He grabbed the bottle of tequila, said, “Leave! Now!” and disappeared again into his bedroom.
A minute passed without a sound. Zola stood and crossed the den. She put an ear to his door and listened. She stepped away and whispered, “I think he’s crying.”
“Great,” Mark whispered.
Another minute passed. Softly, Todd said, “We can’t leave him.”
“No way,” Mark said. “Let’s take turns. I’ll pull the first shift on the sofa.”
“I’m not leaving,” Zola said.
Mark looked around the den and finished his beer. Almost in a whisper he said, “Okay, you take the sofa and I’ll take the chair. Todd, you sleep on Zola’s sofa and we’ll swap in a few hours.”
Todd nodded and said, “Okay, I guess that will work.” He stepped to the fridge, got another beer, and left. Mark turned off the lights and settled into the battered leather chair. A few feet away, Zola curled up on the sofa. He whispered, “This could be a long night.”
“We shouldn’t talk,” she said. “The walls are thin and he might hear us.”