The Rooster Bar by John Grisham Read Free Book Online

she said. They stared at each other in disbelief, then walked over to break the news to Mark. The three hurried down the stairs and along the first-floor hallway to the building’s rear door. There were a dozen cars in the parking lot but none of them belonged to Gordy. His little Mazda was gone, as they feared it would be. Zola called Gordy’s cell but of course there was no answer. They returned to the apartments, locked the doors, and walked three blocks to a diner where they huddled in a booth and tried to regroup over black coffee.
    “There’s no way to find him in this city,” Mark said.
    “He doesn’t want to be found,” Todd said.
    “Should we call the police?” Zola asked.
    “And tell them what? Our friend’s missing and might hurt himself? These cops are busy with last night’s murders and rapes.”
    Todd asked, “What about his parents? They probably have no idea what shape he’s in.”
    Mark was shaking his head. “No, Gordy would hate us forever. Besides, what can they do? Hurry over to the big city and start searching?”
    “I agree, but Gordy has a doctor somewhere, either here or back home. A doctor who knows him, who’s treated him, who’s prescribed the meds, someone who should know that he’s in bad shape. If we tell his parents, they can at least inform the doctor. Who cares if we piss off Gordy as long as he gets some help?”
    “That makes sense,” Zola said. “And the doctor is here. Gordy sees him once a month.”
    “Do you know his name?”
    “No. I’ve tried to find out, but no luck.”
    Mark said, “Okay, maybe later, but for now we gotta find Gordy.”
    They drank coffee and pondered the impossibility of finding him in the city. A waitress stopped by and asked about breakfast. They declined. No one had an appetite.
    “Any ideas?” Mark asked Zola.
    She shook her head. “Not really. In the past week he’s disappeared twice. The first time he took a train to New York and was gone for three days. When he got back he didn’t say much, just that he was on the trail of the Great Satan. I think he talked to some people up there. He hung around for a day or so; we were together most of the time. He was drinking and slept a lot. Then I came home from work and he was gone again. For two days, nothing. That was when he found the law professor who’d been fired from Foggy Bottom.”
    “Did you know what he was doing?” Todd asked.
    “No. Two days ago he locked himself in his apartment and wouldn’t see me. I think that was when he moved the furniture and went to work on the wall.”
    “How much do you know about his condition?” Mark asked.
    She took a deep breath and hesitated. “This is all confidential, guys, you understand? He swore me to secrecy.”
    “Come on, Zola, we’re all in this together,” Mark said. “Of course it’s confidential.”
    She glanced around as if others were listening. “Back in September, I found his pills, so we talked about it. He was diagnosed as bipolar when he was in college and didn’t tell anyone, not even Brenda. He told her sometime later, so she knows. Through therapy and meds he’s kept things together nicely.”
    “I never knew it,” Mark said.
    “Neither did I,” Todd said.
    Zola continued. “It’s not unusual for people who are bipolar to reach a point where they believe they no longer need the meds. They feel great and convince themselves they can live just fine without them. So they stop taking them, things soon begin to spiral down, and they often turn to self-medication. That’s what happened to Gordy, though he was also feeling a lot of other pressures. All this law school mess, couldn’t find a job, the loans, and to make it all worse he felt as though he was getting pushed into a wedding. He was in bad shape by Thanksgiving but worked hard to conceal it.”
    “Why didn’t you tell us?”
    “Because he would hate me. He was convinced he could man up and somehow survive. And, looking back, most of the time