Spontaneous Combustion!

I decided to seek counseling. Slowly I began to see faint glimmers of something approaching positivity in my life.

One evening weeks after that last encounter with Tanner I met a couple of friends for a drink and some food at a casual restaurant a little ways out of town. I began to think, as I was heading to the dark parking lot, that maybe my life could get back to some type of normal.

Approaching my car I noticed a couple of people back near where I had parked. Two large men seemed to be wandering around near my car. There was a black Chrysler 300 with custom wheels parked nearby.

As I moved to get in my car the two guys closed in on me.

"Hey, What!." I said as they each grabbed one of my arms.

"Hello pal," I heard and turned to see Michael Ameche approach me.

"Mr Weingrass wants to have a word with you pal." Ameche said.

"He can make an appointment with me in the morning, I'm done for the day." I told Ameche.

At that I began to struggle to get loose from the two goons. Their grip tightened. As I was squirming, Ameche, the prick, walked up and backhanded me squarely across my face. For a moment, lip bleeding, I was stunned.

"Mr Weingrass wants to see you now." He informed me. "Boys, get him in the backseat." He told the goons.

This was unreal. I was being abducted. I was sure Weingrass was digging into his deal with Tanner and somehow thought I had something to do with it. I felt confident I could explain my lack of involvement, but this all seemed so heavy handed. I couldn't quite ignore the ribbon of fear I was experiencing.

Our destination was an old building in the industrial part of downtown not far from the docks. It was deserted at this time of night. There would be no concerned onlooker coming to my assistance.

I was hustled down to a dark basement. I noticed the egress windows down here were boarded up. There was a dank, musty smell and in places water dripped down the stone walls.

I soon noticed something else. Duct taped to a wooden chair deep in the shadows, sat Tanner. He looked a little beaten up and there was a desperation in his furtive expression. A far cry from the confident persona he normally wore.

Ameche and one of the goons left after I was duct taped to a similar chair. The one guy silently stayed with us in this bleak dungeon.

Soon Ameche and the other asshole returned.

"Mr. Weingrass is delayed, he'll be here shortly." Ameche told us. "But meanwhile pal, you and I have some unfinished business." He said staring at me.

"You remember how you fucked up my leg?" He asked. I said nothing.

"It's time for some revenge" He told me.

And with that, Michael Ameche beat me as I sat taped to the chair. Hitting me in the face over and over. I knew I had lost teeth and likely had a broken nose. I may have passed out. My eyes were reduced to slits from the swelling. He seems to get great pleasure in the act. Fortunately Ameche's phone rang.

"Mr. Weingrass is on his way." He said as he used a rag to clean my blood off his hands.

The three of them went upstairs to wait.

"Max, Max," Tanner whispered to me. "Weingrass wants money. We need to stick together. I can maybe come up with a half million to pay him back. Can you get a million? I think we can negotiate this, but we need to stick together. OK, Max?"

With my injuries it was difficult to talk. Just then Ameche, the two goons and Sidney Weingrass came down the stairs.

Weingrass was in a tailored black suit, white shirt and a knotted red tie. Weingrass was lean, with styled dark hair combed straight back from his forehead. A lupine look.

"Michael, turn on some lights,". He commanded. "I want to see what I'm dealing with here." Ameche quickly turned the single overhead light on.

Weingrass, hands clasped behind his back paced around the basement, circling us, studying Tanner and I.

"Sid, Mr Weingrass," Tanner began. "As soon as I get the insurance money I can get you paid back. I just need Max to approve it. He was supposed to get a check from me at my office." He rambled on. So much for us sticking together.

Hands still behind his back Weingrass addressed us.

"Gentlemen, I'm a fair businessman. I try to find a deal that can work for all parties. I believe that to be the best way to do business. Everyone gets their beak wet." He went on.

"But never do I want to show a weakness. When, as a businessman, you show weakness, your partners, competitors, even those you thought of as friends will try to take advantage of you. I cannot do business like that." He explained.

"So now Mr. Bishop," he addressed Tanner. "We agreed that you would build a beautiful home for me in Hawaii. I love the idea of a home in a tropical location. I give you the money. And you spend it on some other house to finish, and then that house burns. And you tell me you have no insurance? Is that right?" He asks.

Tanner is rambling on about the insurance company, how I was supposed to get a check, and it can all work out, on and on. Not making a great deal of sense in his desperation.

Weingrass clapped his hand for silence.

"Mr. Early," and he nods at me, "As the insurance man you are supposed to look after your client, Mr Bishop." Now he nods toward Tanner. "And Mr. Bishop says it was your fault that he is not insured. And now, Mr. Bishop has filed for bankruptcy. And it is I who does not have the tropical home that I paid for. I ask you both, is that fair?" He looks toward Tanner and I.

Tanner immediately starts his same story that I was supposed to pick up the check, it's not his fault, and so on.

I can tell Weingrass is getting mad. The more Tanner makes his excuses the angrier he becomes. Finally he turns to Ameche.

"Get rid of them both." And he moves toward the stairs.

Tanner is going crazy, struggling and making the same old excuses how it was not his fault. Weingrass continues toward the stairs as the goons move toward Tanner and I.

"Mr. Weingrass," I say. Speaking for the first time, and it's difficult to enunciate with my beaten face.

"May I ask you a question." He stops and turns partially toward me. He nods as if to say go on.

"As a businessman, you have insurance on your assets, including property I suspect." I say. Weingrass doesn't reply, but he's listening. "I ask you, does your insurance agent come to your office to get a premium check? Or do you, or someone in your office send it off when it's due?" He's staring at me. Tanner starts to interrupt but is told to shut up.

"And another question," I say. "If you have a tenant renting real estate from you and they don't pay when they are supposed to, is that your fault?" He's starting to nod in the affirmative as if he's getting my point.

"If you will permit me, and just loosen one hand, I want to show you something else." He nods to goon one to cut the duct tape.

I reached into my pocket and carefully extracted my iPhone. I hand it to the goon.

"The premium was due on October 15th." I say, Weingrass is now studying my iPhone. "As you can see I texted to remind him of the premium due on October 6th, 8th and the 13th. If you will look at my sent emails, you can see I emailed him on October 9th and also on the 11th. In my emails you'll see I reiterated the importance of the payment." I tell him. Weingrass is intent on what I assume are my emails to Tanner.

"I agree with you," I say to Weingrass. "Part of my job is to look after my clients. In my opinion contacting them five different times within a week should certainly give my client plenty of opportunity to pay for the service I am providing. I believe that's fair. Don't you?" I ask.

With that he looked away, nodding his head, his pointed index finger tapping his pursed lips. He's thinking. Finally he turns to Ameche.

"Michael, take Mr. Early back to his vehicle." He tells Ameche. "And Mr. Early, not a word of this to anyone. Please know, I know where you live, where you work, and I know the people that are close to you. Do I make myself clear?" He inquires.

I nod silently in agreement. As much as I want to report this, I do not want to live my life worried and looking over my shoulder.

As Ameche and I leave, Tanner is going crazy, begging for his life. I have no remorse whatsoever.

"Max please . . . " is the last thing I hear as Ameche and I leave that dank cellar.

On the way home Ameche tries to be friendly.

"Hey, no hard feelings pal. Business is business." He says with a phony chuckle.

I say nothing.

After a moment he continues.

"I guess we can call it even. You busting up my leg. Me busting up your face a little." Once again the phony chuckle.

I'm silent the entire way. Ameche has given up on the small talk. On one hand I'm extremely relieved to not suffer the fate Tanner will. On the other hand I've never liked Ameche and he took great pleasure in beating me.

Leaving the car, Ameche leans across the car seat and tells me out the open passenger door.

"Remember what Mr. Weingrass said," he tells me. "Not a word about any of this."

I stared at Ameche and gave him the briefest of nods. As I looked at him I thought, not sure where or when, but I will get my revenge.

— — — — — — — — — —

Many months later . . .

The sun felt great as I watched the dappled blue water of my swimming pool. Part of my negotiation with Greg Boston, my builder friend that developed the property, was my own residence.

I had taken a half acre with the backyard facing due south on the most elevated parcel of the property. He designed a beautiful one level mid century modern house with a resort-like backyard and this beautiful pool.

The divorce had been difficult. My lawyer did a good job protecting me from having to share any of the proceeds of Aunt Helen's property with Anna. She certainly tried to get a piece of that. I did end up having to write her a check, but it was far less than she asked for. Last I heard she is still bitter about that.

My mind wandered, as it often does, to our relationship. For some reason I was reflecting on the night Anna, Tanner and I sat and discussed our individual dreams. In reflection none of us got what we had wanted.

Tanner wanted to be rich, Anna wanted to be famous, and I just wanted a quiet life with my business and my wife.

Tanner wasn't rich, it was unlikely he was alive. Anna, at least at this point, wasn't famous. The opportunity with KPAL vanished. One of the things I recalled about our reflections was I said I would never be rich. I was wrong about that too. With the sale of the property I quickly became a multimillionaire.

And of course I didn't have the quiet existence with my wife that I wanted so much at that point in my life. That bothered me at times, but I was getting comfortable in my confirmed bachelorhood.

Just then I glanced up to see my latest girlfriend emerge topless from the far end of the swimming pool. Water dripped down her pointed nipples. I smiled.

"Max," the young Brittany asked. "Can you put some sunscreen on me?"

Yes I smiled, I was getting comfortable as a bachelor.

EPILOGUE

The ballroom was active and everyone was dressed in fine evening wear. My date for the night, Kai, was stunning in a black miniskirt. There were dozens of round tables throughout the ballroom. The annual children's charity ball was one of the top social events of the year.

I saw on the far side of the room Sidney Weingrass with an attractive woman at least a decade younger than he.

I made it a point to mingle over towards his table and shake his hand. At first he did not recognize me. The last time he saw me I was a bloody mess. He was gracious with his urbane manners as he recognized me. I had just established my alibi. Quickly I left. I felt a shiver go down my spine as I turned and walked back to my table and the mini-skirted Kai. I needed to wash my hands.

That same night, In another part of town Michael Ameche emerged from a downtown bar, probably a drink or two over the legal limit for driving.

He entered the parking garage and fumbled for his keys. He noticed that it was darker than normal in this corner of the garage. He also noticed a small dark man, face shrouded in the gloom, leaning against the front fender of his Chrysler.

"Move it Chief," he told the man.

With that the man stood up staring at Ameche. And then two more men appeared from the shadows. The first strike was like a whip as the small man lashed out with a lightning quick jab. And then another and another. Ameche didn't have a chance. He was beaten to a pulp, unconscious.

As the first man continued to kick the lifeless Ameche, one of his companions quietly hissed.

"Angel, vamanos, we need to go."

THE END