Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Jax

Every chair around the massive dark mahogany conference room table is filled. Floor to ceiling windows light the otherwise dark room, the last of the associates drones on while flashing slides on a PowerPoint presentation detailing all the potential deals he’s working on. Peeling my gaze from the window overlooking bustling D.C., I look up seeing the presenter for the first time. He’s full of himself. Young, nice enough looking, a suit that costs more than a week’s salary, practically salivating at the thought of the commission he’ll make if he’s able to piece together the deals he’s got in the pipeline.

He catches me staring, it throws his rhythm off, but I don’t look away. He pulls at his collar slightly, trying to be discreet, but I can see him starting to squirm. For some reason watching his money driven ass pisses me off, even though I should be happy since I’ll earn a hefty commission with each deal he closes.

“Does anyone have any questions?” The associate looks around the room avoiding contact with me.

“Yes,” I clear my throat and speak loudly. “How many hours a week do you work, Mr.…,” I struggle to remember his name.

“Garrison.”

“Excuse me?”

“My last name…it’s Garrison,” he clarifies.

“Is that the answer to the question I asked you?” Angrily, I counter, staring directly at him.

“No. But…”

“Do you have an answer then?” Losing patience, I interrupt.

“I don’t know. Maybe eighty hours a week?”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he stammers. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Jax,” Brady, my CEO and sometimes best friend interrupts.

“What? I asked him a simple fucking question and he couldn’t answer it. So he must be an idiot.”

“Garrison, why don’t we take a five minute break,” Brady suggests staring in my direction.

“Don’t bother. Go on without me.” I stand abruptly, the chair I was sitting in falls over. I don’t bother to pick it up as I storm out of the conference room, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls vibrate with the strength of my fury.

***

“Righteousness doesn’t suit you,” Brady says as he enters my office a little while later. He walks to the credenza that acts as a makeshift bar, lifts a crystal glass and pours two fingers of fifty-year-old scotch to match the glass I already have in my hand. Only it’s my second.

Ignoring him, I continue to sit behind my desk, staring out the window, lost in my own self-pity. Brady parks himself across the modern, sleek glass desk and waits patiently sipping his drink.

“So you want to talk about it? Or should I get another associate for you to berate for no apparent reason?” he asks flatly.

“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 fucker throws his head back and laughs.

“You got nothing, huh?” he says while chuckling.

“Shut the fuck 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 asshole she dated wouldn’t take the hint, I don’t want to be that asshole. 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, asshole.” 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.