It was almost poetic justice. Droplets rushed down the train window and the skyline was beckoning me, the Franklin Bridge specifically. That was my destination, my final one, I was on my way there to kill myself, and more importantly rid this city of a degenerate. I was scum, but I was honest scum for sure. I was finally at peace when the train rolled to a stop and the electricity was cut. I looked around and faces were more irritated than frantic. A tree landed in the electric lines in the storm and shattered the front car or something, I wasn’t listening. I instead looked to the window again. The rushing water warped the sight outside, almost beautifying it but I could see the truth. I could feel the truth. It was North Philly, it didn’t matter what the road signs tried to typify, Hell on Earth was here and I’m pretty sure the things I did, the people I worked with, did everything to make it worse. Maybe intentional, maybe not, didn’t matter. I turned the attention to my own reflection. It was groomed well, as if it was going into the office. A perfectly tailored, slick, navy blue Trussini suit, Dolcepunta tie, other Italian accessories that it never cared to learn the names of, all that mattered was the price tag. It had to be enough for my clients. It had to be enough for them to feel dominated. It had to be enough to strike discomfort or jealousy inside anyone I was dealing with.

I should be proud of the image, everyone who had ever known me had been. Twenty-six and clad in travel-wear that cost more than the wardrobe of every train passenger combined. Of course, I’m exaggerating but that was one of the most advantageous skills to have in my profession. Attorneys, business ones specifically, had to see through hyperbole and think in the simplest terms possible, while at the same time, lie like criminals seamlessly.

You know, I’m disgusted with myself, I really am. I used to have a code. That’s what makes a man. I used to have principle, I promise. I prided myself on honesty, work ethic, I didn’t drink, no drugs, I was pure American. I was naively moral. But put a man in a suit, an office, a Lincoln Continental, and tell him it’s his jobs to break that code for profit, what is he supposed to do? What was I supposed to do? I was a tragedy. Now that’s no excuse, but…well…that’s what I told myself.

I was fixated on my handsome reflection. It was the same one I saw five days a week on my panoramic window view. I’d spend hours absorbing the view from the fourteenth floor of the Roth & Hesch firm building. It had a view of downtown of course, that view drew my clients like flies. But I had barely seen those ugly grey, black buildings. I was drawn to the Green.

Fairmount Park, the oasis. I loved the variation. Rolling pastures of clean-cut grass in some parts, dense oaks clustering together in others. Sometimes sliced by ugly streets and sidewalks but I saw through them. The Green aroused something indescribable in my deteriorating psyche. Why did I love it? Green is the color that grants life, the trees breathe life into me, into everyone. Through the oxygen of course but the simple sight revitalized me. Each winter when the parks would hide under blankets of white, I’d lose hope. I’d weep, honestly. But luckily, Green always found its way to me in life. It was always a sign of hope.

It was always pure.

Just months after starting the job, when I realized what I was becoming, I would go down to the pubs nearby and I’d drink like a fish…I hate that line. That’s a lawyer line. Fish don’t drink, they need it to survive. I needed it that way. And some Friday nights I’d head near the park and blow a couple thousand on strong beverages. I’d then stumble my way into a nice little spot where the trees welcomed me. I’d love seeing the looks on the people I’d pass by, it was shock, why would a guy with everything going for him act this way? I was quiet and motivated when walking under daylight. I’d walk past anyone, eyes locked ahead and focused. But those nights, I’d greet everyone, embrace, smile, occasionally serenade. Anyways, I’d find that perfect spot in Fairmount and fall to the ground and hug Mother Earth. Clutching her petals. The beautiful palettes greens soaked in moonlight and city light would blend in my drunken vision. It’s the most beautiful sight in the city. Everything comes together. I tear up every time I think about it.
I coined the experience “Equilibrium”. Best attraction of the city. Those Friday night occasions became every night routine. And on the cab rides back when I looked into the rearview, I’d see such a different image. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair was tossed, but I’d prefer that look a million times over the image when I’d prepare in the morning. Obsessing on every blemish, perfecting everything for my bosses and clients.
Now I am…was a business attorney. How could that possibly be taxing on the mind and soul? I wasn’t trying to prove murderers, dope pushers, and rapists innocent. All I do is look at contracts blah, blah, blah. But I promise you, I’m the scum of the Earth.

Let me rattle off my case history. All wins of course. I’ve had about three cases where I’ve successfully run small businesses into the ground. I’m talking family-run businesses, decades old, loved by their neighborhoods, they put food on the table. After killing them off, I’d take the property to set up fronts for organized crime families, they’re nothing like in the movies I loved as a kid. One of my favorites was when I helped buy out a library in a prime location. I helped set up an upscale strip club. Isn’t that nice? But that’s not all, in the basement the owner, Mark Braddock, ran some seedy human trafficking market. But don’t worry, I was a witness on the trial, he got off. Later that month I was wired fifty thousand dollars by an “unknown donor”, I wouldn’t touch that money for a long time. Other works included procuring all sorts of permits for rich foreigners to run competition into the ground, drive families from their homes, lay off thousands of workers. Basically every job is just some sort of variation of these evils. That’s what happens when you make the big time.

But it’s okay, I’m just doing my job. I just do the best I can to help the people who require my services. I began to think back to one of my first breakthrough cases. Prince Ali Assad, the Dubai prince, got bored with his money so he journeyed to various American cities exploring prospect areas to develop. Places that could be bought cheap and built up, that could drown him in the unique American currency that he desperately needed in his collection.

He walked into my office ebbing energy in all directions. He barely glanced at me as he walked straight to the window. It wasn’t even my office yet, I hadn’t proven myself but the firm lent it to me for the meeting.

“Ah! There he is! There you are! The young bull haha! What a beautiful office!” His lawyers paraded in after him. I had not made a response but I instead examined him, his motions, what part of the view he focused to…downtown of course. He finally looked back to me smiling, but he saw me straight-faced and focused.

“What is wrong my boy?” His thick eyebrows quivered in puzzlement.

“Mr. Assad, if it’s all right with you I’d like to speak privately, I like doing my business mano y mano.” I shot a courteous smile to his lawyers as he turned to them.

“You see this? This man has a code! He has a way to define his business.” He turned to me and pointed a finger. “I admire that very, very much my boy.” He then turned back to his entourage.

“Leave! You maggots! You feast on this man’s hospitality. You all disgrace me!” Each of them bowed and rushed out of the room.
I sat with my hands clasped on my knee, smiling softly at him. I motioned for him to take a seat.

He bowed, shook my hand and sat. “Wow my friend. This is the dream no? The young American building himself from nothing to this! The suits! The champagne cocktails! I love!”
I bellowed a fake laugh and beamed a smile just as fraudulent.

“Oh yes, I’d say after astronauts and cowboys every boy dreams of being a yuppie one day.” God, what a stupid line, but he’d love, I knew he would.

“Hahaha, yuppie? I not have heard this word before. You already are teaching me the American ways, no?” He chuckled for a few more seconds. “Well, I do not want to waste your time, I would like you to…”

“Don’t worry about updating me Mr. Assad, I am entirely informed as to your interests and I am going to explain how we can get everything done so you and I walk away rich men.”

“You have my intentions wrong my son. I wish for no more fortune, I want to leave my mark on this city for generations to come!” He triumphantly raised his arms while he preached.

“Well of course you do Mr. Assad, we all do.” I pulled out a map of the city and pinpointed his area of interest.

“Now, I’m just going to recap the situation. You want to purchase houses, apartments, shops, etcetera uptown. You think it’s got prime location, prospects, profit opportunities, whatever, that has nothing to do with me. My job is to help you acquire the properties from the incumbents and get the permits and paperwork you need from the city to build whatever you want, and to keep the banks who are funding this whole thing happy. You with me so far?”

“I will clear the streets of the scum. I will push the n------ from the city!”

These are the people I empower.

“Now, now Mr. Assad we can’t put that in the paperwork. Now, there are problems you’ll face. The police works a containment method. They keep the crime condensed to these areas, makes the job easier. Also, we need to make sure that we get these properties as cheap as possible. No one can suspect that you’re about to make millions. For this we’ll set up front companies to buy the properties and then pour it all together when we’re done.”

“Yes!”

“And by the time we’re all finished up, you’ll have every street corner of North Philadelphia, we’ll have displaced thousands of low-income families from their homes and businesses, and we’ll have funneled millions of dollars into the drug, gun, and crime trades of the Metropolitan area.” I stared ahead at him smiling confidently, I knew he would mistake the sarcasm for some sort of moxie.

“You are a genius my friend! The city is ours!” He spoke like a poorly written supervillain, but I would make him rich, no doubt of that. “We are doing the work of God.”

Law bred atheists. Anything not calculable, not confirmed by a legal document or a signature was not legitimate and held no importance whatsoever in any form. But my relationship with God is pointless to explore, my path’s been revealed.

The first transaction was a test run. I was going to purchase the row house owned by a Miss Latoya King, mother of two boys, in nursing school, but mainly a secretary at some school district office. Her house was the epicenter of the prospect area. I had done my research and was genuinely impressed with her character. I had spoken to her on the phone and arranged a meeting to make the pitch personally on breezy spring Wednesday. Banter went back and forth in her humble but pristine dining room when she finally took her stand.

“I appreciate the offer and I’m flattered that you take time out of your day to discuss with me but…I will not sell this home, I was raised on this street, went to school on the next…this community has defined me and I won’t leave, whether it be cause of the crime or for an offer such as yours.” She had astounded me throughout the conversation. She was immensely articulate and equally as friendly and her conviction empowered me. Usually, at this point, I would start peddling the lies and the flamboyant sales pitch but through the course of the conversation I wasn’t sure if I was speaking out of stark admiration or drive to do my job. Perhaps it was a mix.

“Ms. King, I’d like to speak frankly with you, is that all right?”

She was surprised but certainly welcoming. “I’d very much appreciate that.” She warmed me with her smile.

“My mother used to always tell me you can’t buy class…She was wrong, you definitively can, no doubt. But what you can’t buy is respect Miss King. I’m repulsed by the people I work with, the people I work for. Yet here you are, living on the salary of a coffee runner at my office and you’ve demanded my upmost respect, you’ve astounded me. And I came here looking to buy your house for the benefit of my client. But through our talks, the only thing I want to do is grant security to you and your children. You don’t have to accept the offer. All I ask you to do, is to keep in contact with me and if you need anything, I beg you to let me help.” I stood, shook her hand, smiled, and walked out of the door, unsure of what I had just said, or what really drove me to say it.

I don’t think I ever would. The train was still frozen on the tracks and I looked past my reflection in search of the King house. The rain shattered my efforts but I could feel its presence, I could feel her strength.  I don’t know what I’m going to do when I make it to the final destination. And until I choose to open the door into my apartment and crawl into my silk sheets, or to clash my body with the waters of the River. I’ll spend the time up until in this same ambiguity. In purgatory. The dream…My dream, the American dream was going to conclude one way or another.