Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  Stalking towards the guest room, she gingerly tapped on the door. "Come in," he answered.

  Leaving the door open, she crossed her arms and stood in the doorway as she carefully considered the man she had been madly in love with a lifetime ago and wondered how her life would have been if things had turned out differently. "Why does my brother want me home? Is there something I need to know?"

  Cutter turned away and busied himself with packing. "I'm driving home today to get more clothing and I want you to come with me," he said.

  The stern tone left little room for argument but she didn't appreciate being strong armed by anyone. "I'm not going with you. I didn't leave anything behind when I left. This is my home now."

  "I can't leave you here alone, Angie. If something happened to you, your brother would never forgive me. Hell, I'd never forgive me."

  "You and my brother have blown this out of proportion. The fire at the club might have been strange, but no one is out to get me." A cynical cackle escaped. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? No one is going to break down my front door and strangle me in my sleep. You're being overly dramatic. I'm a small fish in an ocean of business people. There isn't one high rolling gangster out to do me in. This is Dallas, for crying out loud, not New York City." She argued her point but only partially believed what she said. Hadn't she basically confessed the same concerns to Dean just a few hours before?

  Daring to look at her, he crossed the room and clasped her upper arms. "Believe me, Ang. I have worried myself sick over your choice of residences. Dallas isn't the safest city in the world and you know that."

  Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of his grasp and sighed. "Dallas, Texas, might not be Horatio, freaking Arkansas, but it's not as dangerous as you make it out to be. Sure, maybe in some areas, but every major city has bad areas. It's not a big deal. I don't exactly hang out under low lying bridges and lurk inside crack houses, ya know."

  Pacing the room, he ran his hands over his head, as was his habit when searching for the perfect argument to prove a point. "I don't want you to be alone until this is sorted out. Anything could happen and then what? Who will be here to protect you if you're wrong?"

  Adding salt to a wound which obviously hadn't healed wasn't what she had in mind, but it was the only option available so she whispered her answer to soften the blow. "Dean will be here."

  "Fuck, Dean! He doesn't even have your phone number, Angie. Do you really think I'm stupid? There's not one stitch of clothing in this house that belongs to him. There aren't any photos of the two of you and he obviously doesn't know a damn thing about you. If I didn't know better, I'd think you begged him to play boyfriend just to get rid of me."

  "How dare you?" she shouted. "You show up after six years and pretend to know my life? You don't know anything about me…or Dean."

  She was right. He didn't know. Not anymore. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just that I'm completely freaking out right now and I'm worried for your safety. If by chance someone did intentionally set fire to the club, then they're malicious enough to do worse. How do you even really know if you can trust this Dean character? I mean, how long have you known him? And don't lie to me this time."

  Feeling guilty for her part in the heated debate, she confessed. "I did lie about being practically engaged, but I've known him for two years," she stated, holding up fingers to exaggerate her point. "We just started dating right around the time you showed up."

  With wide eyes, he pulled her into the room and closed the door. Dragging her to the bed, he sat her down. "You've known him for two years and as soon as you start dating, someone sets fire to your club? Don't you think that's a bit suspicious?"

  "No." Well, maybe if I had time to think about it.

  "Come on, Angela," he pleaded. Cutter only used her given name when he was desperately trying to talk sense into her. Right now he thought she needed a prescription dose of common sense, or at the very least, an antidote for her recent bout of carelessness.

  "I'm not accusing him of anything, but I want you to look at this from my perspective. For six years, your life is fine and dandy. As soon as you start dating him, it turns to shit. Maybe it's a coincidence, but maybe it's not. I'm not asking you to move back to Arkansas, I'm simply asking you to humor me for one day so that I know you're safe. We'll come back first thing tomorrow if you want. I swear it."

  "I don't appreciate you insinuating that he's capable of doing such a thing. You're making him out to be some kind of monster, and he's not. Dean is an affable man and I know you would like him if you gave him half a chance."

  "The last thing on my mind is discovering whether or not I like your boyfriend. The first thing on my mind however, is protecting you. Please let me do this one thing right. Let me keep you safe."

  Resigned to appease his fears, she agreed, but mostly because after everything that had happened, seeing her brother would do her good. "Alright, if it will quell your and my brother's fears, I'll go home with you, but only for one day and only so you can grab a few personal things. We come back tomorrow." Standing up, she pointed her finger at his chest. "Understood?"

  "Perfectly," he said with a shit-eating grin before pulling her to him and kissing the top of her head.

  "I'll tell him now," she said, stepping out of his embrace with a frown. Being in Cutter's arms had affected her slightly and she didn't think it wise to linger longer than necessary. Making a hasty exit, she returned to the kitchen to find Dean cleaning up the remnants of their breakfast.

  "How'd it go?" he asked as he rinsed the coffee cups and slid them into the dishwasher.

  "That depends on whose team you're cheering for," she replied dryly.

  Giving her his full attention, he announced his loyalty. "I'm on yours of course."

  "Then team us didn't fare so well. There are a few things I need to take care of back home so I agreed to make the trip today, but should be back tomorrow."

  "Is there anything you need me to do while you're away?"

  Asks the man who was just practically accused by my ex of being an arsonist and evil mastermind. "No. It was sweet of you to ask though," she beamed. Padding across the floor, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "There must be a law against being so considerate."

  "If there were, you would surely be in jail for the rest of your days," he countered.

  The cheesy comment earned him a lengthy kiss. "I should find better traveling attire," she joked, referring to her robe.

  "Since I'm practically your fiancé, I would greatly appreciate it."

  "I told him the truth about us," she confessed. "Let's face it. I couldn't keep the dream alive forever."

  He snickered at the reference to her earlier declaration that they were practically engaged. As she turned to leave kitchen, he lovingly smacked her ass, causing her to squeal with delight.

  Dean didn't have the right to argue her return home, but he did insist that they exchange numbers and asked that she call when she arrived to let him know they had made it safely.

  Standing in the driveway, waving goodbye as she drove away with her ex, Dean Murray made a crucial decision as he came to terms with his past. If he intended to continue seeing Angela, he would first need to make some major changes. The first thing he intended to do was talk to his wife.

  Chapter 10

  "Keep your enemies close and your secrets closer." ~ Mr. Benson

  "I got the list of names you requested concerning the construction project on the access road."

  "Good, email them to me. I'm on my way to the airport, headed for Houston. I should be back in a few weeks. Has there been any breaking news on our competition?" John Benson asked.

  "I heard there was a fire at Bare Assets. Other than that, just the usual bar fights and reduced client bases at the other clubs."

  "A fire at Bare Assets?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "How badly was it damaged," Mr. Benson quizzed with child-like glee.

  "From what I'
ve heard, it's bad enough to shut the place down for a few weeks. Maybe even a month. It's a huge setback from what I understand. Last night was a packed house and now her loyal clients will be forced to go elsewhere. A month is ample time for a customer to forget their loyalty. Wouldn't you say, Mr. Benson?"

  John Benson thought it was obvious that his pretty boy manager knew more than he was telling. "I would say to keep your enemies close and your secrets closer, my friend."

  "I always do. I'll get that email over to you. Have a safe flight."

  A sardonic smile crossed Mr. Benson's lips as he sunk into the leather seating of his Mercedes. His driver skillfully negotiated traffic, leaving him alone to consider the possibility that his wish to own Bare Assets might be closer to becoming a reality than he anticipated.

  He didn't know Angela's dancers on a social level so he couldn't know their personal flaws, but dancers were known for having nasty little habits. Going a week or two without income wasn't usually an option. Soon, those pretty little bitches that had snubbed their noses at him when he'd tried luring them away from Bare Assets, would be begging him to hire them. When they came crawling to him on bended knees, they would need to show how badly they needed the job. How good they were with their mouth would be the deciding factor when hiring. He chuckled at the visual image playing out in his mind. His clients would pay top dollar for fresh meat and he would be the first to sample the product.

  "My, my," he mumbled to himself as the Dallas skyline whizzed past. "It seems the spider has finally spun his web." He wondered how clever his pretty boy manager really was. Had he been the one to start the fire? When he got back from his trip, he would be sure to pry the information from him.

  He had a right to know if the untimely disaster at Angela's place had cost him. There was always a hit man, an arsonist, a politician, inspectors and a slew of others to pay off. He wanted to personally shake the hand of the man who had physically pulled off this stunt, and if his manager had done it alone, even better.

  *********

  The drive back to her hometown was surreal. The towns in between had changed since she'd last seen them, and yet they were the same. The idyllic Mayberry ambiance of each small town they passed through was deceptive. She knew the deception existed, just as well as the people hiding behind the façade knew. Sitting on the front porch sipping tea and lemonade could be more complicated than most people knew. Old man Fred had taught her that.

  In the backwoods of Arkansas, lemonade and tea wasn't necessarily what one would think. More times than not, the sweet little ladies who rocked back and forth in their rockers as the world passed them by were sipping moonshine and discussing the haves and have not's of the local townsfolk.

  A reminiscent gleam warmed her chest. As much as she wished it untrue, she had missed the simplicity of country living. The lazy days and easy ways were more difficult to erase from her soul than she cared to admit.

  Cutter's voice interrupted her silent commemoration of country living. "You didn't sleep long," he said.

  "I don't think I've ridden in a truck since leaving home," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I'd almost forgotten how rough the ride can be."

  "What? No trucks? How did you survive?" he teased.

  "It wasn't as difficult as you'd imagine, except when I moved into my house. I would have killed for a truck then." The playfulness in her voice echoed the carefree life she'd once had. Being out of the city had relieved more tension than she'd known she possessed until it was absent.

  "Are you hungry? Kay's Diner is just ahead."

  "You mean it's still open after all these years?" she beamed.

  "Yep, not much has changed." Stealing a glance at the radiant glow of her cheeks, he had to force himself not to pull over and kiss her. After all this time, she was back in his truck where she belonged. Now he needed to find a way to keep her there.

  "Do they still make a mean chicken fried steak?" Now she was hopeful. The idea of savoring Ms. Kay's chicken fried steak after all these years had her giddy with joy.

  "They do, and she still makes her famous pecan pie, too."

  "Sold!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "If memory serves me right, I don't think I've ever had a tastier pie than Ms. Kay's." Revisiting her roots wasn't turning out to be as horrible as she'd anticipated.

  He mentally noted her relaxed speech and was impressed by how easily she was already conforming back into the life she had tried desperately to leave behind. "Do you remember Sally?"

  "Little Sally, Ms. Kay's granddaughter?"

  "Well, she's not so little anymore. She's in high school."

  "You're kidding me right? I can't believe it. She was just knee high to a toadstool when I left." Elated to hear news regarding people who had once been a part of her daily life caused her voice to spike up an octave. She hadn't been this excited since signing ownership papers on Bare Assets.

  He couldn't help but chuckle at her use of the timeless expression. Angie would never admit to it, but it was obvious to him. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl. She was living proof of that. Without even stepping foot on her farm, she had already reverted back to her deep-seated roots. "She's dating Rooster."

  "Rooster Evans? Joe Evans' boy?" she glared at him with shocked disbelief.

  "One in the same," he nodded. "Ms. Kay is expecting them to get married right after graduation."

  "Are you serious? I never would have pictured Rooster with Sara. Those two were as different as night and day."

  "He graduated last year and works at the paper mill in Ashdown. She graduates this year and plans to become a nurse. From what Ms. Kay says, she did so well on her SAT scores that she received full scholarships to several colleges."

  "Has she decided which one she's attending? I mean, getting married and then going off to college will be a challenge."

  "She's decided to attend Texarkana College. That way Rooster is close to work and she's just about a thirty minute drive from school."

  "I can't believe it. Has it really been that long since I've seen them?"

  "They were at your mom's funeral, but I don’t think you were in much condition to remember," he said softly. Angie and her mother had been tight knit, and Angela had understandably taken her death hard. He had only seen her briefly during the funeral, but her brother had filled him in on her extended grieving period. It had been a difficult time for everyone.

  "You're right. I don't remember seeing much of anyone other than my brother and his wife. I barely recall seeing you," she openly admitted.

  "Well, you'll get to see them now." Pulling his truck onto the gravel parking area, he jumped out and rushed around to open her door but she had already let herself out.

  "Don't do that," she said sternly.

  "Don't do what?" His brows furrowed as he shrugged his shoulders, pretending innocence.

  "Don't open my door for me. We're friends, Cutter, nothing more. Friends can open their own doors."

  "Actually, I wasn't coming to open your door," he lied. "The entrance to the diner is on this side of the truck," he pointed out.

  "Oh. My bad," she blushed. I really need to put my overinflated ego in check.

  "Someone got a little full of themselves while living in the big city," he prodded. With a hearty laugh, he playfully wrapped his arm around her shoulder and jostled her inside. She was too embarrassed by her swollen ego attack and his verbal recognition of it to squabble about the overly friendly gesture.

  Stepping inside Kay's Diner was the closest she would ever come to time travel. Everything was exactly has it had been since her earliest memories of the place. From the rectangular tables which still sported worn, brown vinyl table covers, to the brown metal chairs with thin black cushioned seats, to the light colored wall paneling, Ms. Kay's Diner had not changed one iota.

  "Look what the cat drug in," a robust woman with gray hair greeted before the door could swing closed.

  "Hey,
Ms. Kay. I brought you a present." His light hearted mannerisms with people had always seemed genuine and made him easy to like.

  "I'm spoiled enough as it is without you bringing gifts," she squawked. "Who is this cheeky little lass?"

  "This is your present. Do you recognize her?"

  Pushing her glasses up her nose, the older lady studied the younger one for several long seconds before recognition flooded across her face. "Well, all things merciful. Angela Fletcher." Not a woman of formalities, she pulled her into a fierce hug. "I never thought I'd live to see the day. I was hoping you would pop by at least one more time before I ended up on the other side of God's green grass."

  "Don't be silly. You're going to outlive us all," she boldly teased while enjoying the plump woman's embrace. There was something to be said for comforting effects of an older woman's sincere hug. It was the closest she would ever get to her mother's hug, so she lingered in the woman's arms a second longer than necessary.

  "You always were a sweet girl. I'm so glad to see that the city didn't take that away."

  "No, Ma'am. The city won't ever be able to erase what momma and daddy created."

  "Good girl," she nodded in agreement. "You two have a seat and I'll send Sally out with menus."

  "Thanks," Cutter grinned. "But I'm pretty sure we won't need menus. We already know what we want."

  "Do you now?" the older woman asked with raised brow.

  "We're both having the chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with white gravy and fried okra. I'll have a glass of your famous sweet tea and Angie will take water with lemon. Does that sound about right?" he asked, turning to Angie for approval.

  "That's exactly right," she confirmed. "I can't believe you remember that."

  "It's hard to forget. You ordered it at least once a week," he winked. With a twinkle in her eye, Ms. Kay hustled off into the kitchen to get started.

  Selecting a table, the two of them sat down on the diner's tattered chairs. Before either of them could say a word, Sally bounded out with their drinks. Within seconds, Angie was thrust into a flurry of local teenage gossip and brought up to date on who had married who and who was dating who.