we dress it up with fancy words, that's what I was." He
peered deeply into the older man's eyes. "Don't think I'm
not grateful for everything you've done for me."
' 'I never asked you for gratitude. You always did an honest
day's work for anything I sent your way."
"I wouldn't have had any advantages at all if it hadn't
been for you." He paused before going on. "But I paid you
back, several times over, I think. When I left your company,
I did it because I needed independence. I still do, Angus."
Angus was perturbed, and made no secret of it. "You
wanna be begged, is that it? Okay." He took a deep breath.
"I'm getting close to retirement age. Some would consider
me past it. The business needs your leadership qualities to
survive." He spread his hands wide. "There. Does that satisfy
your confounded ego?"
"I don't need to be stroked, Angus, and you damn well
know it. I'm thinking about somebody else's ego."
"Junior's?"
"Junior's. Have you told him about this?"
"No. I didn't see any reason to, until ..."
"Until there was nothing he could do about it."
Angus's silence was as good as an admission.
Reede began to pace. "Junior is your heir, Angus, not me.
He's the one you should be grooming to take over. He needs
to be ready when the time comes."
Angus paced, too, while he collected his thoughts. "You're
afraid Junior won't get ready as long as you're around to do
everything for him and cover his tracks when he messes up."
"Angus, I don't mean--"
"It's all right," he said, raising his hand to ward off
Reede's objections. "I'm his daddy. You're his best friend.
We should be able to discuss him freely without wading
through bullshit. Junior isn't as strong as you."
Reede looked away. Hearing the truth warmed him inside.
He knew how difficult it was for Angus to say it.
"I always wanted Junior to be more like you--aggressive,
assertive, ambitious--but. ..." Angus gave an eloquent
shrug. "He needs you, Reede. Hell, so do I. I didn't bust
my balls all these years to see everything I've built up fall
down around me. I've got my pride, but I'm a practical
businessman. I face facts, bad as they sometimes are. One
of those facts is that you're competent, and Junior isn't."
"That's my point, Angus. He can be. Force his hand.
Delegate him more responsibility."
"And when he fucks up, you know what'll happen? I'll
lose my temper, start yelling at him. He'll sulk and run to
his mama, who'll mollycoddle him."
"Maybe at first, but not for long. Junior'll start yelling
back one of these days. He'll figure out that the only way to
deal with you is to give you tit for tat. I did."
"Is that what you're doing now, getting back at me for
some slight I'm not even aware of?"
"Hell, no," Reede answered crossly. "Since when have
I ever been afraid to tell you off, or anybody else, if something
wasn't to my liking?"
"All right, I'll tell you since when," Angus snapped.
"Since Celina was killed. That changed everything, didn't
it?" He moved closer to Reede. "I don't think any of us has
had an honest conversation with the other since that morning.
The thing I always feared most was that she'd come between
you and Junior." He laughed with rancor. "She did anyway.
Even dead, she put a blight on the friendship."
"Celina has nothing to do with my decision to say no. I
want to feel that what's mine is mine. Completely. Not a
part of your conglomerate."
"So, it's strictly economics?"
"That's right."
The wheels of Angus's brain were whirring with fresh
arguments. "What if I decided to build an airfield of my
own?"
"Then we'd be competitors," Reede replied, unruffled.
"But there's not enough business to support two, and both
of us would lose."
"But I can afford to. You can't."
"You wouldn't get any satisfaction from bankrupting me,
Angus."
Angus relented and snorted a laugh. "You're right. Hell,
boy, you're like family."
"Like family, but not. Junior is your son, not me."
"You're turning down this opportunity on account of him,
aren't you?" It was a shrewd guess and, he saw by Reede's
reaction, a correct one.
Reede gave his wristwatch a needless glance. "Look, I've
got to run.''
"Reede," Angus said, grabbing his arm. "You reckon
Junior'll ever realize just how good a friend you are to him?"
Reede tried to sound jocular. "Let's not tell him. He's
conceited enough as it is."
Angus smelled defeat, and it was obnoxious to him. "I
can't let you do it, boy."
"You've got no choice."
"I won't let you say no. I'll keep after you," he promised,
his crafty blue eyes gleaming.
"You're not shook up because you'll miss me. You're
shook up because you aren't getting your way."
"Not this time, Reede. I need you. Junior needs you. So
does ME."
"Why now? After all these years, why does ME's future
rely on me coming back?" Reede's features sharpened with
realization. "You're scared."
"Scared?" Angus repeated with affected surprise. "Of
what? Of whom?"
"Of Alex. You're scared that she might pluck the candy
apple right out of your hand. You're trying to pack all the
power you can behind you."
"Wouldn't we all be stronger against her if we stood together?"
"We are standing together."
"Are we?" Angus fired.
"You've got my loyalty, Angus, just like I've got yours."
Angus stepped closer to Reede. "I damn sure hope so. But
I recall the look on your face when I walked through that
door a while ago," he whispered. "You looked like you'd
been walloped in the nuts, boy. And she looked all rosy and
wet around the mouth."
Reede said nothing. Angus hadn't expected him to. He
would have considered a babbling denial or an apology a
weakness. Reede's strength was one reason he'd always admired
him.
Angus relaxed his tension. "I like the girl, myself. She's
saucy, and cute as a button. But she's too smart for her own
good." He pointed a stern finger at Reede. "See that you
don't get your cock up so high you can't look around it at
what she's trying to do. She wants to bring us to our knees,
make us atone for Celina's murder.
"Can you afford to lose everything you've worked for? I
can't. Furthermore, I won't." Ending the discussion on that
grim promise, he stamped out of the hangar.
"Where's my boy?" he stormily demanded of the bartender,
almost an hour after leaving Reede. During that time,
he'd been making the rounds of Junior's haunts.
"In the back," the bartender answered, indicating the
closed door at the back of the tavern.
It was a shabby watering hole, but it had the largest poker
pot in town. At any time of day or night, a game was in
progress in the back room. Angus shoved open the door,
nearly knocking over a cocktail waitress carrying a tray of
empty long-necks on her shoulder. He plowed through the
cloud of tobacco smoke toward the overhead beam that spotlighted
the round poker table.
"I need to talk to Junior," he bellowed.
Junior, a cigar anchored in one corner of his mouth, smiled
up at his father. "Can't it wait till we finish this hand? I've
got five hundred riding on it, and I'm feeling lucky."
"Your ass is riding on what I've got to tell you, and your
luck just ran out."
The other players, most of whom worked for Angus in one