Date: Tue, 23 Mar 2010 21:47:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bar Tab Buy-out!   01

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

%

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!"

%

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.....