The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
Bar Tab Buy-out! 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Everyone was quite on edge, a precursor to what would be the most important board meeting in the roughly eighty year history of Barnett-Tarkington Candy Supply, a family business which has prospered in good times as well as challenging years, spanning the several decades of its existence.
Making his rounds, Scott Brock shook hands in assurance, telling the eighty-five or so who had gathered, "I want you to know, whatever the outcome, you have my full support." Mindful of the weakened economic state of the country, in particular of Garnet, Wyoming and the surrounding areas, which have benefitted over the years from the growing industry resulting from Barnett-Tarkington, Scott gave his word there would be no layoffs, if it was in his power to dissuade the hierarchy of the Barnett family.
Six years ago, when the thirty-two year old was hired as a consultant, by an elder member of the Barnett-Tarkington clan, it was determined new, young blood would help revive an aging icon of the American candy industry. With a master's degree under his belt, Scott worked his ass off to bring the company up to the top of the candy industry, supplying papers, wrappers and annexing a facet of the industry, printing of names on wrappers, utilizing his computer skills to revolutionize the company. Along with growth came jobs, which were all attributed to Scott's abilities, thus also making himself not only a name in the Pacific Northwest, but accruing moderate wealth for himself, as well as a clientele of friends, which most times were the common worker, even though he eventually held the title of CEO!
Moderately conservative, when wealth blew his way, Scott didn't seek out some of the mansions in West Hills, an area at the foothills of Tugwater Creek, west of Garnet. However, at the time of his rise to the top of the company, his mentor, Ben Tarkington, the last of the original strain, leading from the founding fathers, had one more mansion at the end of the block and since he held high regard for Scott, insisted he take up residence. Such were the sales figures for a particular year, after Scott renovated the company with 'computers', Ben just signed the deed over to Scott, telling him it was a bonus, giving him a wink.
After making the rounds of the crowd of workers, Scott drew his attention to the opening of the heavy oak doors to the grand board room. He was going in with an open mind. True, since Ben Tarkington had gone to his grave six months prior, he had sensed a lapse in continued growth, but still had faith things had not progressed to where the company's sales figures reflected in a downturn, following the economic views of the country. He walked into the room as he usually did, a smile on his face, a positive attitude. Like every month, he greeted the Barnett-Tarkington family members, along with non-family associates, some whom were well associated with Ben Tarkington and his work ethics.
But the atmosphere had a chill to it, when instead of Tarkinton's cronies, the table was well-attended by only the family members, except Hugh Cower, a longstanding attorney for Barnett-Tarkington.
"The others? None of them could make it?" Scott asks no one in particular.
Ben's nephew, Trevor Barnett replies, "They are not available at the moment."
"Oh," Scott said, thinking it strange, Trevor even speaking to him. Usually it was Adam Barnett, but Adam too was absent. So he asks, "And what of Adam? He 'never' misses a board meeting?"
"Off fishing," one of the other Barnett family members, Gregg notifies Scott.
"Oh." He thought it made sense, knowing Adam loved to take a trip now and then down to Tugwater Creek, stopping off at the family home along the riverside, spending a weekend or ever a week, as time permitted. The only thing he found odd is it was midweek. "Surely Adam would have waited for the weekend?"
Turning everything back to business, Trevor announces, "Shall we settle down to business gentlemen?"
Scott looked around. Normally he would be flanked on the left and right by a half dozen others. As it stood, in attendance were two of the three Barnett brothers, Trevor and Gregg and the family attorney, Hugh Cower.
"Hardly a quorum," Scott said of the light attendance, sitting.
He missed it when Gregg and Trevor exchanged glances, each sporting a sudden, quirky smile, reverting to a serious manner.
Slowly, as the board meeting progressed, Scott's enthusiasm took a dip towards bottoming out, till he was left with nothing more to say than, "I hadn't realized things had bottomed out to where the situation looked so grim." He then went to remove a file from his briefcase, which in his estimates showed the company not in such dire straights. He didn't have time.
If storming a group of terrorists, there would have been shouting, guns and the like, but the FBI imposing on the group of high end management, there wasn't a need other than a tall dude, announcing himself, "Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt your board meeting, but we have a few questions to ask of you?"
Small amounts of information were given, Scott sitting there, taking it all in. Main focus of Federal Marshall, Marco Terenzi's inquest involved statements made by Gregg and Trevor Barnett.
However, the mention of Benjamin Tarkington, threw Scott into the turmoil, him jumping at the mentioning of Ben as the pinnacle of a Ponzi Scheme. "That is totally false!" Scott jumps out of his seat. "Ben Tarkington would 'never' have had a hand in such a crooked business deal. Ponzi Scheme?" At which Scott falsely laughs, "Hah! I don't know where you gentlemen have gotten your information from, but this is all totally absurd!" He sits.
Wandering over to where Scott sat at the rather large wooden board meeting table, Terenzi props his ass against the ledge, and in an informing manner, "We've investigated you too, Mr. Brock and lucky for you, we don't find any reason to further invesigate your business practices, but right now we've had reason to have your investments frozen, as well as the other holdings of Barnett-Tarkington and associates."
"My assets? Why me, when I haven't done anything wrong?" Scott protests.
"It's a formality. After a period of sixty days I'm sure..."
"Sixty days? Do you mean you're freezing my checking and savings accounts?"
Straight-faced, arms across his middle and without an ounce of sympathing, Terenzi replies, "I'm afraid that's the way the cookie crumbles Mr. Brock."
Scott could almost swear Terenzi was enjoying this, but then again, it's the way he's always perceived the majority of straight-laced law enforcement. "How am I supposed to pay my bills?"
"Don't think we've checked up thoroughly on you Mr. Brock. You have a good credit rating, have always paid your bills, electric, gas, credit cards, all on time." And completing the portrait, "You don't owe anyone anything, except maybe Chang's Cleaners down on Spruce and 15th?" And as if to send a message, that Scott's 'been watched', "Where you take your shirts to be laundered every Thursday?"
Being a wiseguy, perhaps to send a message to Terenzi, Scott sarcatically asks, "Tell me, have you noted in your reports what time I take a piss every Friday, when our business meeting takes us to Lowery's on South and 13th street?"
There was a wry smile on Terenzi's lips as his face answered Scott's question, yet in his mind he was thinking of how fucking hot it would be to have Scott on his knees in front of him, his cock planted in Scott's throat and unload a pint of recycled beer down his gullet, for the audacity shown him. Instead, he remained civilized, "No, but I do recall seeing on the transcripts quite a few times you and Adam Barnett making several appearances in the jon, during what was supposed to be luncheon meetings on Fridays at Lowery's?"
"That doesn't prove anything," Scott says.
Terenzi, seeing his men had already taken the Barnett brothers and their attorney out into the hallway, he speaks freely, "Off the record?"
"Yeah? Okay," Scott accepts.
"I bet you would be a really hot fuck!"
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`Bar Tab Buyout!' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....