“I ain’t got a clue, honey,” Darryl was saying as he glanced across the street with waning interest. “Probably just sick of the grind,” he figured.
“I’m going to see what’s up,” Topaz decided, settling into her ride. “I hope I don’t break down before I make it across the street,” she joked, turning the key and revving the engine.
Darryl grinned, slapping the rear of the sleek white sports car. A second later, Topaz was zooming out of the garage.
At the opposite end of the block, Horace White and Stan Webster were preparing for a very important mid-morning meeting.
“More coffee, man?” Horace asked, holding the glass pot poised above the tray.
Alex waved his hand. “Do you two really need me to sit in on this thing?”
“My partner and I have a stinkin’ suspicion that these people don’t play by the rules.”
“But forcing somebody out of business ...” Alex trailed away, fixing Stan with a doubtful look.
“Aw, come on, man,” Stan snapped, “you of all people should know a mess like this happens all the time.”
Alex caught the true meaning of his friend’s words and conceded with a nod. Of course, he took no offense since he could clearly recall the occasions on which he helped to “persuade” proprietors to relinquish their life’s work.
In light of that, I’ll stay. Maybe, in some way, I can make up for it all, Alex told himself, yet feared he would never come close to atoning for all the evil he’d done.
“Horace? Stan?”
“Go ’head, Jenny,” Stan called to their executive assistant, who had buzzed in via speakerphone.
“Your eleven o’clock just arrived.”
“Send him in, Jen,” Horace instructed as he and Stan stood.
Alex remained seated in one of the armchairs near the rear of the office.
Marlon Sanders was a tall, solemn-looking fortyish gentleman with small green eyes and a thatch of dark hair that was styled to camouflage the baldness that was taking over his head. The conservative black suit and striped gray tie with polished wing tips lent to his staid persona.
“Mr. Sanders,” Horace greeted.
Marlon extended his hand. “Mr. White. Mr. Webster. I’m glad we could finally agree on an amicable sit-down.”
Stan nodded toward the back of the office. “Our associate,” he announced, waving a hand toward Alex.
Marlon turned, his cool expression turning a bit apprehensive as he regarded the large man who had remained seated and offered no word or gesture of greeting. Marlon Sanders offered a shaky nod of acknowledgment before turning back to Horace and Stan. “Gentlemen, shall we get started?”
“This is only a meeting, Mr. Sanders,” Horace reiterated as they took their places around the desk. “Don’t take it to mean anything more.”
Alex remained in the depths of Stan White’s spacious office, lying in wait like a big cat. Meanwhile, Marlon Sanders presented an impressive offer to purchase the partners’ firm.
“As you can see, gentlemen, we are quite interested in closing this deal,” Marlon surmised.
“And just who is ‘we’?” Horace inquired.
Marlon shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“This ‘we’ you keep referring to, Marlon. You’ve told my partner and me everything except who wants to buy our company.”
“My people want to remain anonymous,” Marlon coolly informed Horace.
The partners grinned and Stan placed his hand flat on the maple desktop.
“Well, until your people are prepared to step up to the forefront, we’ll just reconfirm our decision to keep our little business,” he said.
If possible, Marlon’s solemn expression turned even more grim. “My people won’t appreciate knowing I’ve wasted my time here.”
“Too bad,” Horace retorted.
Marlon returned his paperwork to the leather valise he carried and stood. “Are you gentlemen aware that almost half the businesses on this street have sold?”
Stan chuckled. “Well, Horace, at least we know everybody sold out to the same crooks.”
Marlon stepped away from his chair so quickly, he knocked it to the floor. “The two of you will be hearing from me again. My people are quite intent on purchasing this property.”
“That a threat?”
Marlon sneered. “Take it any way you like, Mr. White.” “That what you told Jarvis Cramer and Cooper Moss before they sold out?” Stan countered.
Marlon turned away. “Good day, gentlemen,” he called over his shoulder, glancing toward the back of the office as he headed for the door.
“Whatcha thinkin’, man?” Stan asked Alex once the office door slammed shut.
