Page 19 of Stripped

His expression had softened and gone wary. He reached for me, like he wanted to touch me, but stopped before he made contact. “There has to be someone we can talk to, someone who can help you out. They can't just condemn a perfectly good building.”

I checked my watch, it was just after four. We had time. “I know the mayor pretty well. We can talk to him.”

Since I was feeling better, Zane let me drive. I parked in front of the courthouse and led the way inside and to the mayor's office. “Hey, Sherry,” I said to his secretary, a girl barely out of high school who was some distant relation to the mayor. “Charlie in?”

Sherry's eyes widened to the size of ping-pong balls and she got to her feet. “He's out right now, Miss White. I'll have him—”

“Sherry, where the hell are my damn reading glasses?” Charlie shouted as he stepped out of his office.

As soon as he saw me, he paled and his own eyes widened. “Abigail. You shouldn't be here.”

Darn it, this wasn't a good sign. “My club's been condemned, Charlie. You know anything about that?”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “They blamed me for you being there when the health inspector showed up. They told me I had to stay away from you or they'd go after my family.”

How many people were going to be punished for my taste in men? For my unwillingness to sell myself? “Who do I talk to about this, Charlie?”

He shook his head. “Not even they can condemn a building overnight. I expect if you read the notice more carefully, you'll see you have forty-eight hours to make repairs and request a new inspection. Now, I'm sorry, but I really do have to ask you to leave.”

I followed Zane out without arguing. My club wasn't more important than Charlie's family. “I read the notice carefully,” I said. “All it said was that my building was being condemned, right?”

“That's what I saw,” Zane said. “I think the person we need to talk to is in this building.”

He didn't sound at all sure of that, but we went down to the front desk and were directed to an office of code compliance.

There was a young guy behind the desk. A very young guy. I had to assume he was another relative of the mayor because I couldn't imagine any other way a guy so young could have landed that job.

“Hi there,” he said when we walked in. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm Abigail White, owner of The Booty Carousel, downtown, and I need to speak to someone about a notice I found on my door this morning.”

The kid's eyes widened. “No shit? You own that place? Man, I fucking love that place—”

Zane leaned over the kid. “Glad you're a fan. We need to talk to your boss.”

The kid nodded, looking a bit like a bobble-head doll. “Yeah, of course. Go on back.”

We walked back and I half-hoped the kid had no clue what he was doing and we could find the guy with a subordinate bent over his desk, something I could use to blackmail the guy, because I had a feeling it was going to take something miraculous for me to get my club back.

Unfortunately, there was a woman in the office and she was alone, doing her job as far as I could tell. Nothing at all useful for blackmail.

“Hello,” she said, looking up from her work with a smile. She appeared to be about middle-aged, with a friendly smile and flint in her eyes that suggested she suffered no fools or bullpucky. “How can I help you?”

I repeated the spiel I'd given to the kid out front and she started nodding before I'd finished. “I saw that property personally. I'm afraid there's very little that can be done.”

“I was under the impression that I had forty-eight hours to make repairs.”

“Look,” she said. “I want to help you. Gage was a friend of mine back in high school and I've always liked that club, but I can't sign off on a building that is so unsafe. It's so bad, I've asked for it to be destroyed as soon as possible.”

“What are you talking about? I was there this morning and it was fine.”

Her eyes widened. “There's extensive fire damage inside the building. Support structures and wiring, pretty much everything that was holding that building together was burned. It was almost like…” She tapped her fingers on her desk, clearly uncomfortable with her own thoughts.

“Like someone had burned away the integrity of the building with an incredibly accurate flame thrower?”

She didn't respond, her lips pinched tight. “Look, if you have insurance, make a claim and get the place rebuilt.”

The room spun, but this time it wasn't from my concussion. I had insurance, it wasn't the best, but it would get me part of the way to rebuilding. Unfortunately, I didn't have any money in savings to get the rest of the way there. It would cost more to rebuild than to have bought the shabby building before it was burned. I pressed my palms against my eyes to push back tears and pulled in a deep breath. Maybe this was good. I'd been wanting to leave Aspens Whiten for a while and now nothing was holding me back. I should be happy, but a lump of sadness had settled in my chest and wasn't moving.

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