Last Day in Vegas chapter six

On his twelfth birthday Johnnie decided it was time to spend some of his ill-gotten gain. He had waited for three years thinking that the authorities and/or the family of Richie Patterson would probably catch up to him. He realized they probably didn't know the value of the baseball cards and so were oblivious to their financial loss and he had counted on the fact that since Richie was not allowed to play with even toy guns he would probably not tell his mother that he had traded the cards for a broken pellet rifle.
Johnnie had hidden the money inside the wall behind the bathtub. He had double-bagged it and when he retrieved it he found it was still in good condition. He still hadn't come up with a plan of what to do with the money. He knew that if he started buying things his naturally suspicious father would wonder where he was getting the money and would probably assume that johnnie was shoplifting.
Johnnie decided what he needed was a lawyer. Someone who could invest the money for him, create an account for him, like a trust, and wouldn't tell his parents. He assumed that this would not be an easy thing to do for he sensed that most lawyers didn't have time for crazy kids and their ill-gotten booty. He needed someone who was slightly crooked themselves but not crooked enough to want to face the spectre of being known as the lawyer who had fleeced a twelve year old asian kid.
Johnnie got the yellow pages down from the shelf in the kitchen. He started thumbing through the pages and found the section on lawyers. Some of them had big ads. Johnnie knew his man would not have a big ad. He started reading the names that were listed with just an address and phone number. Most of the lawyers were located downtown, near the Capitol, or in the industrial park area. He was looking for someone in an out-of-the-way location.
He came upon a name. Richard Zellmer. 116 Farthing street.
"Farting street" Johnnie said aloud. "That's got to be my man."
Johnnie knew Farthing street was adjacent to the railroad tracks on what was known as the poor part of town. Johnnie tried not to ride his bike around down there because he had been chased and had rocks thrown at him by name-calling local kids.
They had called him gook-boy and chinaman. There weren't too many asians in Austin in those days and even though it was fairly liberal for Texas it was still redneck country.
Johnnie went back into his room and took the bagged money back to the bathroom and stowed it away again. Then he thought about it and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills. He packed up the rest and pushed it into the wall behind the tub. He put the money in his sock, re-tied his shoe, got his bike from the backyard and headed off into the hot Austin summer afternoon.

Zellmer's office was on the second floor of what looked like an old run-down condominium of the stucco variety. The r at the end of his name had fallen off or been pried off so the sign said Richard Zellme Attorney at Law.
'Buy and Zell me' Johnnie thought to himself.
When he got to the door it seemed more like an apartment than an office and Johnnie could hear a television from behind the door. He wasn't sure if he should just go in or ring the bell. He rang the doorbell.
He could hear someone moving around inside and then a voice.
"Hold on, I'll be right there."
More sounds of things being pushed around as if Zellmer was frantically cleaning up in expectation of a big client.
Finally the door opened and a man who looked like he had just woken up from a three day binge opened the door. His hair was greasy and pushed back. He needed a shave desperately. His shirt was wrinkled and had what looked like spaghetti sauce splattered on it. Johnnie thought for a second that it might be blood and then he realized if it was blood it would be probably be brown.
"What do you want?"
Zellmer's professionalism didn't seem to extend to a twelve year old asian kid wearing a Texas Longhorns baseball hat.
Johhnie was a bit taken aback. He was starting to rethink his plan. The new plan was to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.
"Well, what do you want? Ya little fuck."
Now Johnnie was pissed. He didn't give a crap for this low life but he realized he probably wouldn't find anyone more suitable for what he had in mind.
Johnnie bent down and pulled one of the hundred dollar bills from his sock.
"Are you Richard Zell-me, the lawyer?"
Zellmer looked irritated.
"Zellmer. Yes, I am a lawyer. What do you want?"
Johnnie waved the hundred dollar bill in front of Zellmer's bloodshot eyes.
"Want to make some cash?"
Zellmer's eyes widened. This was a first for him. Most of his clients were small-time divorce cases, petty criminal defense cases, or boring procedural trust issues.
"What's the deal?"
"May I come in?" Johnnie decided to play it cool. He wanted to handle himself like James Garner from the Rockford files.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on in." Zellmer opened the door.
Johnnie walked in and took a look around the room. Empty pizza boxes were strewn about haphazardly. The coffee table was covered with empty beer bottles and a spilled ashtray. There was a small mirror on the table with smudges on it. Around the room papers and boxes of more papers were strewn about as if someone had been rifling through them looking for something. The carpet was shit-green and most of the furniture looked like it had come from the Knights of Templar thrift store down the street. A large color TV was on with the sound down and Gene Rayburn was silently presiding over the Matchgame 74 crew. Charles Nelson Reilly looked like he was having a good time.
"Nice place you've got here." Johnnie remarked snidely.
"Ok wise-guy, what's the deal? Where did you get the C-note?"
Johnnie stopped and thought for a second.
"It's not important where I got it. I just want to know if I can hire you to do something for me."
"What's that? What is it you want done and let me tell you I don't do too much for a hundred bucks."
"I've got more. That's the problem. I came into some cash and I can't let my parents know about it. My father's got a gambling problem and I want to keep it away from him. I want you to set up an account for me so I can buy stocks and stuff. I'll pay you two thousand dollars to set it up. But I want it all done with receipts, notarized, the whole deal."
"Two thousand bucks. That's not bad. How much money do you have kid?"
"I want to invest ten thousand dollars."
Zellmer stood there and thought about it.
"Okay, let me do some research and I'll see what I can do. When can you get me the two thousand?"
"Here's a hundred bucks. I'll give you the rest when I see the papers and have made sure the account is for real."
Johhnie held out the the bill. Zellmer snatched it from his hand and held it up to the light.
"Okay kid. Come back on Wednesday and I'll let you know what I've come up with."
Johnnie left, got on his bike and rode home. Before he got home he took out the other hundred dollar bill and when he walked in the door he started yelling.
"Mom, mom! Look what I found! A hundred dollar bill! On my birthday!"
Johnnie's mother Su Han Yan Gow put down her copy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and stared with her mouth open at the hundred dollar bill.