Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “So?” he prompted me as I took the stool next to him. “Did you sell all your dollies?”

  “Cut it out, Steve. You may be my partner, but that doesn’t give you the right to second-guess what I do. I think it’s pretty clear that my game plan is sound, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you know what you’re doing. I’d like to see you handle my end of the business. You’d find yourself in over your head.”

  “Okay, well, let’s not argue. It’s been a good day. Let me finish this beer I’ve ordered and let’s hit the road. I could go for a massage and some time in the sauna.”

  “What you ought to do is go home and get laid. You young guys, all of you. So worried about eating the wrong thing or cutting short your exercise. Hell, you all look like you got boils under your armpits as it is.”

  I had to chuckle at that, but Steve just didn’t get it. He chose a life of extremes. He didn’t do anything halfway, and excess was not a word in his dictionary. “Whatever you say. Drink up, let’s go.”

  I did a slow drive by past the new store a few times, taking some pictures of and jotting down notes of things I wanted changed. The neighborhood was very up-and-coming, very upscale. The local officials had been more than happy to give me every accommodation. They knew one of my stores would drive up the property values and I had to guess a lot of them made investments in commercial real estate as soon as they knew I was coming in. It always happened that way. I never bought any more buildings than what I needed. I wasn’t in the real estate business, I left that to people who had more money than sense.

  I drove around a little longer, widening the circle, block by block. It was a good way to get a feel for what would happen to the neighborhood as I expanded. I always felt I had a responsibility to people who had lived there all their lives. They weren’t just houses, void of people. They were families who shopped, worshiped, went to school and celebrated life together. Every one of my stores impacted the neighborhoods nearby. This one was a good choice.

  I sighed, satisfied that the choice had been a good one. There was one more area I want to check out before I dropped Steve off. This area was northwest of the city in a community named Lake Forest. It, too, was an upscale area, and I knew my store would fit in perfectly. We passed by a family bakery, Flemming’s, it was called. It sat on one of the more prominent corners where the stoplight would cause passersby to take notice and maybe even get a whiff or two before they drove through. There was easy in and out parking, as well as on the street. It was perfect. “You see that place there? Flemming’s?”

  Steve looked where I was pointing. “Yeah.”

  “I’d like to open my fiftieth store there.”

  “I don’t see any for-sale signs,” he muttered and looked away. I followed his glance and saw he was eyeballing another bar. I had to have a little talk with him about his drinking problem.

  “No, that’s the whole point. It’s doing well. Of course, I don’t want to own a Flemming’s Bakery. My guess is that it’s a family operation and nothing like what I’m looking for. I like the location, the neighborhood and there would be some built-in loyalty just out of habit.”

  “You want me to check into it?”

  “That’s why I’m telling you,” I said, using my isn’t that obvious voice.

  “You could’ve just asked me outright,” he answered me gruffly. “That’s another thing,” he began, turning his head to face me. “We are partners. You’re not my boss.”

  “I get it.” I said nothing further but made a mental note that I would have to check with my attorney about getting Steve out of the partnership for my remaining stores. I would hire someone directly. He was good at making the connections to buy the real estate and taking care of unions and permits; that sort of thing. When it came to the overall vision of what I was doing, he sucked and what was more, he was starting to get in my way. I wouldn’t tolerate that. I noticed a few times that he tended to walk over people when it was convenient. I didn’t want that around me.

  My cell with the unlisted number was buzzing in my pocket. I tapped the speaker in the car. “Hello?”

  “Chris? It’s me, Corey.”

  “Hey, big guy. Just to let you know I’ve got you on speaker and Steve’s with me here in the car.”

  Corey didn’t seem deterred by that fact, but immediately continued on. “You know what that bitch did now?”

  I sighed. “I never thought of Daphne in terms of being a bitch. As a matter of fact, I’ve always liked her.”

  “You just don’t know her like I do,” Corey insisted. “She’s tracking me.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean she’s tracking you?”

  “Twice in the past week, I told her I had to work late. She didn’t take my word for it. The first time I saw her car go by the office and she slowed down to make sure my car was in the lot. The next time, she was calling the office phone but had turned off the caller ID.”

  “Then how do you know what was her?”

  “I know. I just know.” Corey’s voice was filled with aggravation and I could tell he was looking for me to side with him. “What am I going to do?”

  “Well, hell, Corey, I’m no marriage counselor, but if it were me, the first thing I’d do is make damn sure there wasn’t any basis to her suspicions. The second thing I’d do, is to sit down and have a long talk about trust. Hell, I don’t know, this is not my thing. You’ll never see me get married.”

  “Well, right about now, I wish I wasn’t married either.”

  “Don’t say that. What about Marga?”

  “Marga? She’s fine. She’s just a kid and she has no idea what’s going on.”

  I shook my head. “Are you really so sure about that?”

  “Look, I didn’t call you for a lecture.”

  “Then, why did you call me?”

  “Good point. Talk to you later.”

  I disconnected the phone and pounded my fist on my steering wheel.

  “Hell, what are you so upset for?” Steve jumped into my thoughts. “It’s not your wife. You got the babes lined up at the door and there’s always one ready to jump in your bed. Your brother bought his mess.”

  “It’s not Corey I worry about. It’s that little girl, Marga. You know, Corey and I came from a broken family. My dad fooled around a lot and my mother finally couldn’t take it anymore. When it was all over, they were both happier, but Corey and I were pretty damaged.”

  Steve shook his head. “Wish that was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he muttered and looked out his window again. I could see he wasn’t going to expand on that and I really didn’t want any more hassles to think about, so I let it go. “I’ll look after the building,” he said, ending the conversation.

  I nodded and retreated into that place in my brain where I planned my tactical moves for the next store.

  Chapter 3

  Lillie

  We all have memories from our childhoods. Sometimes it’s learning to ride a bike and remembering how scary it was to roll over after a fall and see both knees covered with gravel and blood. Some of the happier ones included a special birthday party with all your friends or maybe a Christmas when your grandparents were still alive, and your grandma made her special baked beans from the recipe she wouldn’t give out as long as she was alive. As bitter and sweet as my memories were, nothing could have prepared me for the night that I stood between my parents and watched our lives burned to the ground.

  I’d gotten the call from old Mrs. Switzer who lived across the street. She’d heard about it from her sister-in-law, Betty, who had heard about it from her husband, Willie, as he drove past on his way to work. “Your mama and papa got out just fine, but I think Flemming’s Bakery is gone for good,” she told me, tears in her voice. I grabbed the jeans I’d thrown in the dirty clothes the night before and slid them on beneath my nightgown, stumbling in the dark for my keys and purse as I fell out the front door. My parents always went into work very
early; that was the nature of the bakery business. On the other hand, it was my job to run the front counter all day, so I wouldn’t show up until eight in the morning. I’d been working at the family business my whole life, with the exception of the years I took off while I went to college. I’d finished that and had been planning that my parents would retire eventually, and I would take over their business.

  I was in shock as I drove quickly toward the bakery, realizing that my life had just changed forever. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Papa to see his entire life disappear. I would always remember him in his white, starched apron, his mustache powdered with flour and his hands kneading the dough for the morning’s batch of bread. Mama… well, she wore a ruffled apron — my favorite was the embroidered one with little flowers. It seemed only appropriate that she wear flowers in a place that smelled so very good. I remembered as a child thinking how very lucky we were. The world seemed to be filled with lonely people who didn’t have enough to eat and there I was with two wonderful parents and an entire bakery. I knew how very lucky I was, and I wanted to be part of that family tradition going forward. I thought my business degree would help. Maybe some fresh ideas would pump a little excitement into things. At the very least, I would have a better idea of how to take over, so my parents could retire.

  The street was blocked with flashing lights and emergency vehicles. I pulled into a random parking lot, grabbed my purse and popped out the door at a dead run. I found Mama, sitting on the curb with her face in her hands.

  “Mama!” I cried out. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Ah, my Lillie. It’s all gone. Everything we worked so hard for.”

  “Where’s Papa? Is he safe?”

  She nodded her head and as the fresh tears surfaced, she put her face back into her hands. I wanted to make sure with my very own eyes that he was okay, and I found him standing next to the fire truck, the corner of his apron in his hand as he dabbed his eyes.

  “Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, Lillie, someone told you. It’s okay, my girl. No one was hurt and that’s the most important thing.” He said the words in an almost singsong voice, which told me that he too, was in shock and was mouthing the words that seemed appropriate, whether they were or not.

  “Oh, but Papa, we’ll rebuild. We have insurance, right?”

  He looked at me, his brown eyes huge and watery. He shook his head.

  “What? We don’t have insurance?” The blood drained from my brain and along with it, my optimism.

  He shook his head again, mournfully slow. “The customers, they don’t come in like they used to. We had to cut some corners. Mama wanted to use cheaper ingredients, but I told her no, that wasn’t right. So, I had to cut the corners where I could.”

  I gasped and turned to face the building, the gravity of what I was watching beginning to sink in. I knew my parents had a nest egg put away for their retirement and I wouldn’t let them touch that for any other reason, no matter what. I was young and now I had my degree. I could earn a living and even help to make their house payments. We would find a way. We were the Flemmings and heaven knows we’d been through times tougher than these before and survived. If there was one thing that was positive about the building burning down, it was that it couldn’t get much worse. They say that builds character. I would’ve settled for a Flemming’s creampuff, instead.

  When they came to tell us that it was time to leave, I took my parents home in my car. Theirs had been parked next to the building and was damaged, if not completely undriveable. We dragged into the house. Some of the neighbors had already come over to find out what happened. I asked each of them to leave us be, just for the day. “We need to figure out what to do,” I explained, and they left, nodding with understanding. I made a full pot of strong coffee and the three of us sat at the kitchen table, our heads balanced in the palms. It was my job to put a positive light on all of it. “At least we all got out safely.” It was weak, and I knew it, but it was all I could pull out of my hat at that moment.

  “Mama,” my father said. “There’s something I have to tell you. The bakery is gone. We could not keep up the payments on the insurance and I had to let it go.”

  She looked up at him, her mouth hanging open as the import of what he’d just said sank in. I saw her face go pale and when she tried to lift her cup of coffee, it sloshed from the mug. I had to do something, and quickly.

  “Oh, Papa, listen to you,” I said in my keep it light voice. You’re always looking on the gloomy side. We can rebuild. When the firemen are done, we can go through and see what’s left. I know the neighbors would help us. We have lots of friends. And then, we can clean up the mess and start again. We are Flemmings, remember? Anyway, the ovens were old and I’ve heard you say you would like new ones. Why not now? Let’s begin again and make a real challenge out of it?”

  My father shook his head. “No, Lillie, it’s no good. We are done, your mama and I. We are tired of the cold and the wind, the ice, and getting up at four o’clock in the morning. We’ve got a little money in the bank and we have some Social Security. We’ll sell this house and the land where the bakery sat and we’re going to Florida. You’re out of college now and can take care of yourself. If you want to come to Florida with us, we will make room. If you want to stay here, I know you can find a job easily enough. No, my sweet Lillie, it’s time for your mama and I to move on to the next part of our lives.”

  Mama nodded without being consulted. When Papa spoke, that’s the way it was going to be. I was broken-hearted, but at the same time, I felt a sense of freedom. Although I would always be happy to be in the bakery business, something told me that I was meant for something more in life. Maybe now I would find it; only because I had to.

  Chapter 4

  Christopher

  I was in the office, doing some end of the year projections to use for the following year. I planned to open one new store per quarter. Even though each store was an improvement upon the last, I was looking for a way to standardize. While I wasn’t interested in franchising, I knew at some point I’d get tired of this game and want to move on to another. At that point, I’d have to sell the chain and I didn’t want Steve involved.

  There was a tap on the door. “Come in.”

  “I’ve got some news.” Steve’s face was bland as usual. There were subtle things about him that told me when he was lying, but this time I saw nothing there.

  “What is it?”

  “You know that place you showed me, the bakery on the corner that you wanted me to look into?”

  “Sure. Did you find out if they’re willing to sell?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure they’re willing to sell now.” His face was sardonic and cold.

  I studied his face. “What did you do?”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. No, I put out some inquiries and first thing this morning I got a message that the place burned down last night.”

  “What?” I got up from my chair and walked around the desk. “You don’t have anything to do with this, do you?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. Of course, I don’t. It’s just a coincidence; one that I think you should consider karma. And if you look at it, what better thing for them? The place was old and anybody who bought it wouldn’t use it as a bakery. They’d tear it down. This way, it saves them the trouble to demo and you happen to be interested in the lot. How much better could it be?”

  “Steve, swear to me you aren’t behind this.”

  “I am not behind this,” he said and turned to leave. He swung around, his finger wagging at me, “I don’t like it when you don’t trust me.”

  I relaxed, my shoulders slumping with relief as I nodded. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have that coming. It’s just one hell of a coincidence.” I sat back down in my chair, watching him from the corner of my eye. I didn’t want him to get nosy about what I was doing. It didn’t include him.

  “Look,” I reinforced. “I’m sorry. Things used t
o be a lot harder to get accomplished before you came on board. You just seem to make things happen. You could see why I might wonder how you do it, I guess it’s just because you’re good at it.”

  “And don’t you ever forget that,” he waved the finger one more time.

  “Well, check it out, if you would. Go and get back to me on the numbers.” He nodded again before leaving, shutting the door little harder than necessary.

  I wasn’t sure how I wanted to think about Steve. I knew he had to go. At the same time, I knew that getting rid of him wouldn’t be as easy as just buying him out. Steve lived with his wife, Marjorie, in the suburbs. Marjorie was hardly the suburbs type, having been a stripper when he met her. Steve had been selling used cars and dabbling in real estate on the side. That’s how we had croseds paths. I was starting to acquire some properties for my stores, and Steve had properties to sell. We worked a couple of deals together and I came to notice that he had a knack for making things happen easily. Real estate was not my forte, so it seemed only natural to get him involved.

  I tried to hire him at first, but Steve was savvy. He could see what I was doing, and he knew that once I was done building stores, our relationship would come to an end. He wanted more than that. Marjorie pushed him for more than that. She wanted to hobnob with the women who had snubbed her while she stripped. She wanted to join that whole coffee klatch, tea in the afternoon thing that women with wealthy husbands could do. She wanted the country club and the charge accounts and the little blue Mercedes convertible. Steve, on the other hand, wanted Marjorie. He knew the only way to do that, was to give her the things you wanted. He was not a particularly attractive man himself. He was out of shape and wider than was healthy. His face was perpetually red, and his hair was short enough to get him into boot camp. He smoked nauseating cigars everywhere he went, except in my stores or in my car. I put my foot down about that.