Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  "Mr. Benson just showed up and is demanding to immediately speak with you. He says it's important. Should I let him in?"

  "What's the head count?"

  "We're still a maximum capacity," he answered honestly.

  "Then the answer is no. Tell him he'll either have to catch me tomorrow before we open or he'll need to wait in line like everyone else," she said curtly.

  "Will do," he grinned. She was a savvy owner and didn't take crap off of anyone, another reason he respected her as a boss. The boss lady refused to have her arm twisted by anyone. Bear knew that he could make more money working elsewhere, but higher pay could never make up the difference for working under Ang.

  Bear stepped into the foyer of the club and relayed the message to Mr. Benson. Whenever he saw the stout, bald man he instantly became leery. There was something strangely unnerving about the crusty old bastard but he couldn't put his finger on it. He, like the others, had heard the rumors circulating in the club sector but didn't give a lot of credence to rumors. What he did know however, was that rumors often held small elements of truth. It was just a matter of sorting out the details but he didn't consider Mr. Benson worthy of sorting. He was quite content working for Angie and she took great care of her employees. Unlike the ugly gossip he had heard about the man standing before him.

  "It's imperative that I speak with her now. I have a flight to catch tomorrow," he yelled above the music.

  "I hope you have a safe flight, but there's nothing I can do. The club is at full capacity and until someone leaves, you'll need to wait like everyone else. The boss lady was clear. No exceptions."

  "Let her know I'll be in touch." Rolling his partially smoked cigar between his lips, Mr. Benson turned on his heel to leave. As he strolled past the line of customers who were waiting to make their way into Bare Assets, he paused. Walking just a few feet from the line, he turned to the crowd, removed his cigar and invited each and every one of them to his club and promised half priced admittance.

  Frowning, Bear casually stalked over to the annoying man and with a wave of his hand, motioned toward the parking lot. "Would you like me to walk you to your car or do you think you can find your own way?"

  "I'm quite capable of finding my own way," he sneered with a maniacal chuckle. "I'm simply giving these fine gents an option. No man wants to wait outside of a strip club when there are dozens of equally entertaining places in the area," he replied loud enough that the waiting patrons could hear.

  "I'm only going to ask you once more, Mr. Benson. If you don't remove yourself from the premises, I will gladly assist you." Another one of Angie's bouncers, who was only slightly smaller than Bear, stood behind Mr. Benson with arms crossed, ready to pounce if needed.

  With apt focus, the onlookers watched, waiting for what promised to be a physical altercation between one man's determination to steal the clients of Bare Assets and two loyal club employees.

  John Benson chewed on his short, fat cigar for a few seconds while considering his options. Spitting, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at the burly man who threatened him. "Forgive me for being so inconsiderate," he smirked, rolling the hand holding his cigar in the air. "I tend to get overly enthusiastic when it comes to business, my apologies."

  Bear didn't trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded.

  "Let Ms. Fletcher know that she will be hearing from me."

  The comment sounded like a warning when coming from this man's pudgy lips. Bear glowered, but otherwise didn't flinch. Strangled by dislike, Bear nodded again rather than answer verbally. What he really wanted to do was toss the man out on his head and give him a good old-fashioned ass whooping, but this particular situation didn't call for violence, so he swallowed his abhorrence and stood his ground.

  Jamming his stubby, brown tobacco product back between his dentures, John Benson turned on his heel and crossed the parking lot, snickering the entire way.

  Tony, the bouncer who had come to assist Bear, shook his head. "There is something seriously wrong with that man," he said, burning holes in Benson's retreating back.

  "I feel the same way," Bear admitted. Shaking off the events that had just occurred, he clamped his hand on Tony's shoulder and the two of them returned their attention to the club. Bear made his way back inside and Tony kept an eye on the crowd outside, both men pushed John Benson to the back of their mind. What the two of them couldn't have known, was that their night was about to become anything but forgettable.

  "Stay on top of the glasses," Angie hollered to the dishwasher over the sound of the DJ introducing the next dancer.

  "I'm on it," he shouted, giving the two thumbs up signal.

  "Jenna, I'm heading to the stockroom. We're running short on house rum and tequila. Do you need anything?"

  "Yeah, I could use more of the house gin," she tossed over her shoulder as she reached into the cooler for beer.

  "Got it." Angie wove her way through the crowd as quickly as possible. Yanking the keys from her belt loop, she opened the door, marked and initialed the list on the wall indicating what items she was removing from the room, then gathered up the bottles of alcohol and locked up behind herself. The blaring sound of the alarm startled her. With bottles tucked safely in her arms, she blinked back confusion.

  Even from the store room, she could hear the panicked shouts of the customers. Sitting the bottles down on a side cart, she flew into the club and was nearly trampled down. Catching sight of Bear, she screamed above the wave of people running out of the club. "What's going on?" Witnessing customers yelling, pushing and elbowing their way out of Bare Assets, sent her stomach lurching into her throat. As time seemed to stand still, he mouthed his answer just as the smell of smoke wafted to her nose. Her club was on fire.

  "Oh, shit!" Without hesitation, Angie pushed and shoved her way against the flow of panicked customers who were rushing out while hurriedly attempting to calm the overly excited crowd with little success. She had to get to the source of the smoke before the fire blazed out of control and consumed her life's work. Losing her club was not an option.

  "The kitchen," Candy yelled to her over the masses of fleeing guests.

  "Are the emergency exits open?" she shouted, surveying the chaos.

  "I think so. I saw Tony run in that direction."

  Angie stood on a chair and peered over toward the side door. It was open and Tony was directing people towards it. Without a moment to spare, Angela sped towards the dressing rooms to make sure her girls had gotten out. They had all exited through the private back entrance. After noting that the dressing area was clear, she ran to the bathrooms and pushed open each stall. They were also clear. It was only then that she sprang towards the kitchen. The sprinkler system was raining down on the stainless steel equipment, but the fire had already consumed the ceiling. The smoke rolled through the room as the water continued to douse the fire. Noting that the kitchen door which led to the outside was open, she hurriedly rushed back into the club area to visually observe the chaotic mess. The sprinklers in the club had activated and were successfully drenching the remaining guests as they exited. Along with drenching the guests, the sprinklers were actively watering down the carpet, walls, tables and stage. The shower of water coming from the ceiling continued to rain down with no end in sight. Incredulously she surveyed the damage and mentally began calculating the cost of repairs. Even though she had insurance, closing down the bar for the length of time it would take to renovate would cost a small fortune, one she didn't have.

  "Come on Ang," Bear said, offering her a hand to help her off of her chair. As she stepped down, he slipped his arm over her soaking body. He too was wet, but wet was a happy compromise if everyone made it out safely. That was her biggest concern.

  Straightening her shoulders, Angie looked up at Bear. With downturned lips, she crossed her arms and did what she knew best. She gave orders. "I want every employee accounted for and lined up by the side entrance in five minutes. The fire depa
rtment and police departments will want to speak with them. I'll be in my office."

  "You can't stay in here, Ang."

  "I'm not staying. I'm grabbing the schedule and securing the cash drawers. If the police or fire chief shows up before I'm finished, you can tell them where to find me."

  "You're the toughest person I know, Ang." His comment caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Biting back the tears, she slowly turned to face him and offered him her best smile before swiveling back around towards her office.

  If you only knew, she thought. Her outward appearance was hard and controlled, but inwardly she was dying. Entering her office, she paused and glanced around at the soaked paperwork and furniture. Feeling her shoulders slump under the weight of all that had happened and all that would need to happen before her club was operational again was almost too much. You don't have time to throw a pity party, Ang, she told herself. You'll have plenty of time for that after you get home—first things first.

  And the first thing on her list was securing the cash and finding the schedule so that every employee was accounted for. After that, she wanted to question her kitchen staff to find out what the hell had happened.

  Chapter 8

  "I have something to appease your appetite." ~ Dean

  "If doors could talk, there's little doubt you would have pounded the truth of Angela's whereabouts out of it by now, but she's not here," Cutter stated flatly. Perturbed by Dean's display of anxiousness, he opened the door and waved Angie's fiancé inside. "Do you always make a habit of stopping by at wee hours of the morning or is that control trait reserved just for Ang?" Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he closed the door behind him as Dean stormed toward the living room.

  "Where is she?" he puffed with anxiety.

  "How the hell should I know? I'm her ex, not her babysitter." Casually strolling into the room behind him, Cutter plopped down on the couch and cautiously eyed the other man. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, selfishly wishing it were true.

  "If you consider a fire at her club to be trouble, then yes. There is trouble in paradise," Dean retorted. "Have you heard from her?"

  Cutter shook his groggy mind to clear it. "Did you just say there was a fire at her club?"

  "Yeah." Dean didn't really want to have this conversation right now. He wanted to lay eyes on Angie and know that she wasn't hurt but as a matter of common courtesy he answered. "My cousin called me about an hour ago and said that the fire happened around 1 AM this morning." Glancing down at the clock on his phone, he continued. "That was four hours ago. I swung by the club but the fire crews had already left and there wasn't anyone there. The place is taped off. I was hoping she was here."

  "Geez, that sucks." Standing up, Cutter moved to the kitchen and grabbed bottled water from the fridge, handing one to Dean. "I haven't heard from her, but then again, I am probably the last person she would call. I'm not even sure she remembers my number. Have you tried calling her?"

  Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head as if that were the dumbest question ever presented to him by another human being. Sliding the lock button on his smart phone, he searched his contact information for the third time that night, hoping that Angela's number would mysteriously appear in the listings. No such luck. Once he located her, adding her number would be a top priority.

  "I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that she was always one to stay connected by mobile. Ya know?"

  No, I don't know, Dean thought but didn't say. He had known her for two years and had shared two incredible moments, but he didn't know much about her other than she was good behind the bar, proficient at business and how to successfully make her moan in bed.

  The sound of the front door opening and closing sent him running to the foyer. "Thank God, you're ok. I was worried," Dean blurted before she could finish kicking off her shoes.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked. She was tired, confused, upset and looked like a wet dog. Entertaining Dean was the last thing on her mind.

  "Candy called and told me about the fire. I didn't have your number so I drove over to the club. When I saw that the place was vacant, I came here. Are you okay?"

  "You're practically engaged and you don't have her number?" Cutter sarcastically asked from the living room entryway. "Bizarre." He was beginning to question the validity of their so called relationship. What boyfriend didn't have their girlfriend's number in their phone?

  "New phone. Just got it today," Dean lied without taking his eyes off of Angela.

  Cutter shrugged, cast one last glance at the odd couple and went back to the living room. It wouldn't do any good for him to quiz her about the fire with Dean around. When, or if she felt like talking to him about it, she would.

  "I'm drained," she sighed. "It's been one hell of a night and I could use a nice hot shower. Not to be rude, but excuse me while I de-stress." Tossing her keys and purse to the table in the foyer, she made her way to her room. The smell of smoke clung to her hair and clothing and she felt like she'd been slapped upside the head with a large 'what the fuck' stick.

  Numbly going through the motions of undressing and showering, the gravity of the night's events came crashing down around her. The dam of tears that had been contained by her sheer will to take care of the matters at hand broke loose, mixing with the spray from the shower. Tears and water joined together as the two encircled the drain and flowed into the city's sewer system.

  The muted sound of the shower door as it opened did little to distract her from the storm of emotions sweltering inside of her. It was only when she felt Dean's strong arms embrace her from behind that she allowed the bad-ass club owner take a mini-vacation and invited the heartbroken country girl to take the lead.

  As the sobs consumed her and she slumped downward, Dean adjusted his hold and carefully lowered her to the base of the shower. Kneeling down next to her, he held her while she cried. Without speaking, he did his best to comfort her.

  There are countless occasions when kind words are desperately needed, but then were quiet times filled with anguish and sorrow that required silent understanding. Tonight, Angela needed silent understanding and he would be the friend who offered her that.

  Very few people saw this side of her and Dean certainly never had…until now. As her body convulsed with sobs, all pretense was lost and for once in her city life, she didn’t care. The adrenaline high that had consumed her was fleeing, leaving her feeling vulnerable and powerless.

  Her club was a mess and it could take weeks or maybe even months to repair. She was a businesswoman without an operational business and she had employees that would be without jobs or pay while repairs were being done.

  She knew it was inevitable, a few of her employees might be able to sit idly by and wait for the club to reopen, but others would seek employment elsewhere. In a single night, Bare Assets had been catapulted from the hippest strip club in Dallas, Texas, back to an empty shell of a building. Sniffing, she wiped at her nose and slowly found the strength to support her own sagging form.

  "I'm sorry you had to see me this way," she sincerely whined.

  Tucking her dripping hair behind her ear, he cupped her face and planted a kiss to her forehead. "Don't ever apologize for being human," he whispered. "You've been through a lot tonight."

  "You didn't have to rush over here, you know. Candy must have told you that everyone made it out ok."

  "She did, but I didn't think you needed to be alone. It's one thing to be surrounded by people while going through a crisis. It's quite another when the lights are off and you're left alone."

  Blinking away the remaining tears, she gazed at him through puffy eyes. "You say that as if you know how tragedy feels."

  "I do," he sighed. "More than you realize." Not wanting to say more, he helped her to her feet, stepped out of the shower and retrieved a towel. Shaking it open, he held it while she feebly moved forward and allowed him to wrap the warmth of the linen around her wet body. There was a part of his life that he kept sec
ret. He didn't share it with anyone but found himself wanting to share with her. If their relationship continued down the path it was on, he would eventually tell her. Now just wasn't the time.

  "We should really find a more appropriate place to hang out," she teased weakly. Her body was numb, leaving her feeling disconnected from the motions. "I'm glad you came." She wasn't accustomed to sharing her personal turmoil, but found it comforting.

  "I like our special place," he replied with smile. Offering his hand to her, he helped her step out of the shower. Grabbing another towel, he wrapped it around his waist and then found another for her hair. Noticing that the toilet seat was lowered, he sat down and patted his knee, motioning for her to sit. She complied.

  With her back to him, he delicately patted her hair dry while they sat in comfortable reticence, each of them lost in thoughts of their own.

  It had been ages since he had shared a tender moment with someone he cared about and it brought back memories from another time, with another woman. Not wanting to rob Angela of anything, he safely tucked his memories away and concentrated on her. She was everything he admired and more. Her strength in times of adversity, along with the kind way she handled those she employed, were two traits that set her apart from the pack.

  From the first time he had laid eyes on her, he had seen through the tough exterior and saw the beautiful woman buried deep within. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders while still standing tall. Something inside of him craved to be the one to help lighten her load.