“He’s an idiot.”
Brady chuckles. “He actually is an idiot. But that’s beside the point. He’s a rainmaker and he gave a good presentation. You attacked him because he didn’t answer a pointless question fast enough.”
“It wasn’t pointless,” I grumble through my teeth.
“Okay.” He pulls one foot up and crosses it over his other knee in a relaxed stance, like he’s getting ready for a long story. “So fill me in then. What was the point?”
I throw back the rest of the golden liquid in my crystal tumbler and slam it down against the glass desk. It clanks loud enough to crack, but doesn’t. Annoyed at his persistent questioning, I scowl at him. But Brady Carlson has been my best friend for a long time, he doesn’t scare easily. In fact, the f**ker throws his head back and laughs.
“You got nothing, huh?” he says while chuckling.
“Shut the f**k up.”
“Good come back.” He grins knowingly.
I deliberate walking around the desk and kicking his ass for a half second, then I cave and give in. Raking my hands through my hair as I blow out a loud steady stream of air, I begin, “I blew it with Lily. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“I figured that much.” Brady stands and walks to the bar, refilling both our glasses. He sets mine in front of me and asks, “How do you fix it?”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Says the divorced at twenty-eight reconciliation expert,” I retort sarcastically as I sip my drink. It burns going down. Three double scotches for breakfast isn’t really my thing.
“If I had tried, I might still be married.” He shrugs.
“She won’t answer my calls. She wouldn’t talk to me in person. The last ass**le she dated wouldn’t take the hint, I don’t want to be that ass**le. But I can’t let go either.”
“Did you try flowers?”
I give him a look that unmistakably says ‘of course I have you moron’ and shake my head. He sips his drink.
“Okay. So flowers didn’t work.”
“She doesn’t trust me. It’s not as easy as an apology.”
“So make her trust you.”
“How? When she won’t talk to me and lives four hours away.”
“Stay in her life. Don’t make it a short-term strategy if you’re in it for the long haul. Find a way to stay in her life and earn back her trust. You’ve tried saying I’m sorry. Try showing her you’re in it for real.”
Brady’s right. Perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong. Standing around alike a wounded puppy and telling her I’m sorry doesn’t mean shit to a smart woman like Lily. “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look after all.” I crack a hint of a smile. It’s the first one I’ve even come close to displaying in the week I’ve been back.
“They don’t call me Dr. Goodlove for nothing,” Brady says, grinning proudly.
“They don’t call you Dr. Goodlove at all, ass**le.” I smile before kicking him out of my office.
***
The value of my business to City Bank is far more substantial than just the hefty sum in my accounts, even though I’d probably be a priority client just by my own balance, even without the ‘extras’ I bring to the table. But it’s the extras that make them roll out the carpet for me. Being the financing arm for the majority of the deals we broker at my firm is a lucrative business for them. Not to mention the services they provide as my father’s Senate campaign finance trustees.
Normally, I’d meet with the bank President or Vice President when I have an important deal, but today it isn’t inadvertent that I’m sitting across from Gertrude Waters again.
“Jackson. What can I do for you today? Do you have a new potential acquisition you’d like us to examine for financing prospects?” She takes out her notebook and readies her pen.
“Actually, no. I wanted to talk to you about Ralley’s Gyms.”
“Oh. I’m sorry that didn’t work out. Ms. St. Claire seemed like such a lovely woman.” Gertrude looks pensive as she speaks, it makes me wonder if she knows it wasn’t really a committee decision that got Ralley’s line of credit pulled. But I don’t ask. Instead, I’m focusing on what needs to be fixed instead of finding out who broke it.
“She is lovely.” I smile.
“Well how can I help?”
“I’d like you to open back up her line of credit.”
“I’m sorry,” she hesitates, “I don’t think that’s possible, Jackson. Perhaps if over the next year their cash flow improves…”
“Gertrude,” I interrupt her. She quiets and listens. “You reviewed the books in more detail than anyone. They run a very profitable business.” I stop and catch her gaze, speaking pointedly. “We both know their cash flow being a little tight wasn’t the reason the line was pulled. I trust you would have mentioned it when we were together.”
Gertrude stares, deliberating her response. Finally glancing around the bank and finding no one within earshot, she still speaks quietly. “Perhaps if the loan had a co-signer, I wouldn’t need to go back to the committee to re-open the line,” she suggests.
“Where do I sign?”
Gertrude nods and prints some papers from her computer. She slides them over to my side of the desk. “This will make you personally liable for the loan. Are you sure you want to do this, Jackson?”
“If that’s what it takes for you to open back up the line of credit. Yes.”
“It won’t seem unusual, since you’re going to be part owner of the business soon.” She says as I sign the paperwork. I don’t mention the sale is off.
“Would you like me to call Ms. St. Claire and let her know we will be opening it back up as soon as the paperwork is notarized and filed?”
“No. Definitely not. She can’t know I’m guaranteeing the loan.” I lean forward in my chair and lower my voice as if I’m telling her a secret, although I’d scream it from the rooftops if I thought it would help. “I’m in love with Lily and I just want to help her.”
Her eyebrows jump with surprise, but her face softens and a warm smile forms at her lips. “That’s very noble of you, Jackson. But I’m not sure it’s quite ethical to hide the source of the loan guarantee.”
“Do you think what went on to get this loan pulled was ethical, Gertrude?” I ask not letting her eyes evade mine.
She takes a deep breath. “Ms. St. Claire put in an application to have the loan decision reconsidered. I’ll call her and give her the good news I was able to approve the application on reconsideration.” She smiles.
“You’re the best, Gertrude.” I stand and reach over the desk, planting a kiss on her cheek. She blushes and smiles as she picks up the phone to call Lily.
Chapter 29
Lily
Day fourteen post Jackson Knight and I’m no better off than I was two weeks ago. In fact, I think I might be worse. I find myself thinking about him all the time. The first week he was relentless in his pursuit to win me back. But his multiple calls and deliveries each day have slowed. And now I find myself wondering if I’ve lost my chance to change my mind when I don’t hear from him for a full day. When I ended things, I was so angry to learn he hadn’t been honest with me about his interest in Ralley’s Gyms, I couldn’t see past the cloud of infuriation that engulfed me.
But for two long weeks I’ve replayed our time together over and over in my head. Like a record stuck in a skip, I see his eyes as he hovers over me. I could swear they’re filled with real emotions. Real feelings. Something so deep and intensely genuine, it couldn’t possibly be an act. Or perhaps I’m projecting my own feelings onto what I thought I saw in him. Is it even possible that everything he said is true? That once he realized how he felt about me, he didn’t want to cloud my and Joe’s business judgment when it was time to decide on accepting the investors’ offer? Is it possible the timing was really a coincidence and the bank deciding to pull our loan had nothing to do with him?
Even if I did forgive him, a relationship that starts on a lie is riddled for failure. My father taught me that since the day I was born. Trust was everything to him. Heck, the man didn’t even believe in contracts. Everything was done on trust and handshake.
At least things seem to be looking a bit more hopeful at work. I appealed City Bank’s decision to close our line of credit and was shocked they actually reconsidered. Their relenting makes me question if Jax was truly involved in the decision to pull the loan in the first place. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.
Either way, it made me realize we needed to take a look at all of our expenses Our cash flow has all but dried up even though we’re billing out more membership fees than ever. We never used to rely on the bank so heavily. It’s time I pull back the reigns and figure out where we can cut costs.
Reed comes over after work and we settle in for another Haagen-Dazs and movie night. Our third one this week. He always suggests them, feigning an urgent need to see some movie, but I know it’s his way of making sure I’m okay. I really don’t want to be alone, although my ass is going to be twice the size if I don’t find a way to kick this bad case of melancholy I’ve come down with.
He doles out a full pint of ice cream into two heaping bowls and sizes up the contents. “Here you take this one. It has less.”
“What if I want the one with more?” I pout, teasing.
“I’m celebrating so I get the bigger one this time. Plus, I’ve given you the bigger one the last five times. You better cheer up or you’re going to look like your stepfather is an Olympic track and field gold medalist.” He grins.
I smack him playfully. “Hey, your ass is…wait, what are you celebrating?” I’ve been so selfishly consumed with sadness, for a moment I panic and think I may have forgotten his birthday. Luckily it’s not for another three weeks.
“I got my sales statement and commission check today from my first gallery showing.” He takes out a plain white envelope from his pocket and fans his face with it, showing off proudly.
“Oh my god! How many did you sell?” I ask excitedly. It’s the first thing I’m genuinely happy about in weeks.
“All but one!” Reed exclaims obviously ecstatic with the results.
My eyes bulge. He would have been thrilled to sell one. But he had thirty one paintings on display. I’m not surprised though, he’s extremely talented.
My face falters. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Am I the only one that didn’t sell?”
“No! The one of Kane didn’t sell.”
“Is Kane the nineteen year old whose shoulder blades jutted from his skin?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t sell because he looks like a skeleton and it’s scary.”
He shrugs smiling. “I don’t care. I’ll keep him. I think he’s hot.”
“You would.” I crinkle up my nose.
“Sit,” Reed orders. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“You’re painting sold for the most.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Hesitantly he adds, “You know sales were done through a silent auction. Each one had a reserve and as long as the reserve was met, the painting went to the highest bidder.”
“Okay…”
“Your reserve was five hundred. But the bidder paid more.”
“How much more?”
“A lot more.”
“And that is…”