by Emma Tharp
“Go. Now!”
Nodding, I take the plate and set it on my tray and walk out to the dining room. I serve the dinners and when I place the steak in front of the customer, I don’t even want to look at him. His eyes are wide and he cuts right into it and takes a bite. My stomach rolls and I almost gag. “Enjoy your dinners,” I say and take off to the server station.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asks when he sees the look of horror on my face.
“No. I’m not. I hate this place. Doug just made me serve a filet mignon that landed on the floor.”
He cocks his head to the side and rolls his eyes. “That is disgusting. We both need to get out of here. Why don’t you go take a quick bathroom break? You look like you need a minute.”
“You’ll watch my tables for me?”
“I’ve got you. Now scoot.” Spencer gives me a playful pat on the shoulder.
I don’t turn it down. Grabbing my cell from a locker, I make my way to the bathroom. It’ll give me a minute to check my emails. My options are very limited, but I hope one bank will come through for me.
Once inside the stall, I power on my phone and when it comes to life, I have a voice mail from a number I don’t recognize. I play it back.
No way. It’s Donovan Monroe from high school calling about my loan. When I applied at that bank, I didn’t realize he worked there. I haven’t heard his voice since high school. It’s deeper now, and has a rasp. I’d like to call him back now, but I should wait until tomorrow.
My heart rate accelerates and for the first time tonight, a smile spreads across my face. Donovan and I were friends in high school. Maybe he can make this loan happen.
I leave the bathroom with a spring in my step.
Three
Donovan
My heart slams against my rib cage when my secretary buzzes me that Liza is here to see me. It's not because I'm nervous to see her. No, I'm excited. I can barely wait to see the expression on her face when she takes a look at me. She may not even recognize me at all.
When we talked on the phone yesterday to set up the meeting, I loved the desperate sound of her voice. I get to be the hero now.
Ringing my secretary, I tell her to send Liza in.
A few seconds later, my breath catches in my throat. She's as beautiful as ever. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders and her brown eyes have the same sparkle that they always used to, but her features are wary. There's a slight crinkle to the corners of her eyes and a tightness in her neck and shoulders. This can't be easy for her.
Standing, I move toward the door and put my hand out for her to shake.
It's priceless when her eyes widen and peruse my body. My insides heat up. "Wow, Donovan, you look great."
It's difficult, but I keep my eyes locked on hers and refuse to scan her body. "Thank you. So do you. Why don't you have a seat?" I gesture toward the chair across from my desk.
Sitting down, I cross my legs and feign casualness. It would be easier if my heart would stop thudding.
She eases herself into the chair and rubs her palms on her skirt. "Thank you for taking a meeting with me. I was beginning to think I would never get a loan." She lets out a nervous laugh.
"Why don't you tell me a little bit about what you'll be using the money for?” I ask. She's getting the money, but I would like to hear about her ideas. And seeing her unnerved gives me a perverse amount of joy.
The question generates a smile. "Well, it's been my dream for as long as I can remember to start up a catering company. I've been in the restaurant business on and off in different capacities for the last ten years. I'm ready to make my dream a reality."
"Tell me about your experience."
"I've been a server in several types of restaurants, including Italian, Greek, and French. I've been a hostess, a manager, and even a cook at an Indian restaurant. Each position had its pros and cons, but I'm ready to take all of my knowledge and turn it into a career I can be proud of." She breathes in deeply and bites the corner of her lip. She's always done it. Her tell for when she's nervous.
I nod and crinkle my forehead, acting like I'm giving this a great deal of thought. "You realize your credit score is not ideal."
Fidgeting in her chair, she uncrosses and crosses her legs again. "Right. When I dropped out of college, my parents cut me off. There's quite a learning curve going from living on my parents’ credit cards, to my own." She swallows hard. "I didn't change my lifestyle much until I was in debt over my head. It was a life lesson, but I learned the hard way. I've been working diligently to pay off my debt and save a little. Not the easiest thing to do in New York City."
I tap my fingers on the desk. "That's good." Pushing a manila folder toward her, I give her the loan agreement. "These are the terms. Check it over and sign the areas marked."
She blinks rapidly and covers her mouth with her hand. She’s staring at me as if I just handed her a Nobel Prize. She uncovers her mouth. "Wait. Are you telling me that you're giving me the loan?"
I nod toward the folder sitting in front of her. "Yes. Have a look."
Liza looks down and slowly opens it. Her eyes scan the document, but I'm not sure she's actually reading it. She's in shock. I'm sure at this moment she’s seeing her dreams become reality. And it’s because of me. She takes a pen off my desk and scribbles her signature on the documents.
"You're okay with the terms? Any questions?" I ask.
"Absolutely. I will pay this back—every cent." She’s sitting up straighter and her tone is full of confidence.
"I know you will. I'm giving you the choice. You can either start paying it back after a three-month grace period or I can give you up to twelve months’ grace. You don't have to start paying the loan back for one year, but when your payments do start, they'll be higher. It'll give you time to build your business. Which would you prefer?"
Either option is good, but with the payments being so high, I know she's going to need more than three months. She might even need more than twelve, but that's all I can allow. With her track record, I know she's going to be coming back to renegotiate, and that's when my fun will begin. I can be patient.
"I'll take the year. It's so very generous of you. I don't know how to thank you," she says. Her eyes are sparkling and the happiness on her face is priceless. She's really too beautiful for her own good.
Standing, she makes her way toward the door. "Thank you, Donovan. It was so good to see you. This is going to change my life."
I get up to walk her out. "You’re welcome. It was nice to see you, Liza."
When she throws her arms around me, I'm so caught off guard that I gasp. She smells like summer and sunshine, just like she always used to. "I promise, I won't disappoint you."
"I know you won't," I say, even though that remains to be seen.
Four
Liza
Eight months later
I’m startled out of watching a Top Chef marathon by a knock at my door. I'm not expecting anyone. My makeup is off and I'm in my favorite loungewear, sweats and a beat-up old T-shirt.
Padding to my door, I peek through the peephole, relieved to see it’s only Spencer.
I swing the door open. "What did you bring?"
He has two paper bags in his hands, and he holds them up and shrugs. "I had a feeling that you hadn't eaten dinner yet and we need to catch up."
Being simply too exhausted from catering a sweet sixteen party uptown today, I hadn’t even thought about making something to eat. My evening plans were to binge-watch TV as I finish invoices. "You're right. I haven't eaten and I definitely need some best-friend time."
Spencer breezes past me and sets the bags on my kitchen table. He pulls out a few containers and the smell of garlic chicken wafts past my nose. "I know you've been working too hard. Fill me in and tell me how it’s been going."
Grabbing plates off the shelf, I bring them to the table and set one in front of Spencer and one on the table in front of me. Then, I grab a s
et of chopsticks from the bag and open the containers, scooping chicken and rice out onto my plate. "You're so good to me. I'm exhausted and only planned on having a bowl of cereal tonight." I don't admit to him that that has been my life almost every day lately.
As soon as I got the money to start my catering company, I located a commercial kitchen and got to work building my business. I've been busting my ass every day. It took me longer to get my licenses and permits than I thought it would and I didn’t realize the importance of building relationships with vendors. Thankfully, I’ve been in the city in the restaurant business, which got my foot in the door, but time has not been on my side.
"Are you ready to hire me yet? You told me you’d be back for me." Spencer raises his eyebrows and pops a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken into his mouth, red sauce dripping down his hand. Without preamble, he licks it off.
I throw a napkin at him and he laughs. "No, I can't afford to hire you yet." I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin. "The truth is, I don't think I’m making enough money to start paying off my loan in four months."
Despite the beautiful commercial kitchen, my list of clients is growing too slowly for me to keep up on the rent. Not to mention, my freezer died on me last month and I lost over a thousand dollars in steak and seafood, on top of the price of the new freezer. And without a real marketing budget, I have to rely on social media and word-of-mouth. It's working, but not fast enough. My food is good, that I know. At the end of any event I cater, everyone tells me how amazing everything was. If only I could afford to hire Spencer. I know he would help me build my website and we could take on larger events. Right now, that feels like it's going to take forever.
Spencer stands and walks over to my refrigerator and takes out the bottle of Chardonnay. He pulls out the cork and pours two glasses, then makes his way back to the table and nudges one in front of me. "This conversation requires wine. Tell me, princess, what are you going to do now?"
My heart rate accelerates and all of a sudden my meal starts churning in my stomach. I set my chopsticks down. "I don't know."
"You're going to have to think of something."
I take several sips of the cool wine and set the glass in front of me. “I'm going to have to go back to Donovan Monroe and ask him if we can renegotiate the terms of my loan."
"Great idea, but do you think he’ll go for it? You need to make this work, because trust me, you don't want to come back to the restaurant. Keeps getting worse without you there."
Guilt washes over me. I promised Spencer that I'd be back for him and I hoped that I could've made good on that promise sooner. I'm going to have to work harder, I just don't know how. "Have any idea how we could add a few more hours to the day?"
Spencer swirls the wine around in his glass and tilts his head. "No, I don't know how to do that. But…" He stands and walks to the living room where he left his backpack and rifles through it. He comes back with a pair of kneepads and hands them to me. "These will help."
I scratch my head. "What the hell are these for?"
Spencer waggles his eyebrows like he does when he's talking about being naughty.
"No way. I can't do that." Sure, Donovan Monroe has changed. He is sexy as hell, with a masculine magnetism he didn't have in high school. I thought about him for weeks after I left his office the day I signed the loan papers. I even gave some consideration to calling his office and asking him out for lunch, but that thought was fleeting. He wouldn't want to have anything to do with me now, not like he did in high school. Aside from being one of the hottest men I've ever seen, he's smart and successful, too, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to walk into his office and go down on him.
"Listen, desperate times call for desperate measures. You told me that the guy was good-looking.” He laughs.
Tossing one of his kneepads at him, I join in on the laughter.
"If you don't like the kneepads, I have so many more tricks in my bag. I'm willing to share. We got to do what we got to do to get me out of that restaurant!"
I’m not that type of girl, but I’m fresh out of inspiration to get out of this mess. I grab the kneepad and stare at it, hoping I can come up with a better idea.
Five
Donovan
"Could you work on the spot on my shoulder blade for a little longer?" I ask Suzette, my massage therapist. She has strong hands that rival any man's and a technique she learned in Sweden that tones down the stress I hold in my upper back. She's worth every penny, especially since I don't have to leave the comfort of my own home. She brings her table right to my place, any time I need her.
"Of course," Suzette says, kneading the shit out of a trigger point.
I breathe deeply through the pain. It will be worth it later. Work has been stressful lately; I have to do something to relieve it since nothing else I’ve tried has done the trick.
My phone rings and Suzette pauses, giving me a moment to check it. I haven’t been able to be more than a foot away from it for the past few days. I have a huge acquisition I’ve been working on and everything seems to be delayed, hence my increased stress level.
Checking the caller ID, I see it's Garrett, my brother. I silence the ringer and set my phone back down near the table. I'll call him when my appointment is over.
"It's time to roll over now, sir," Suzette says.
I do as she says and lie on my back. Just as I'm doing so, my cell phone goes off again with another call. Reaching for it, a huge grin spreads across my face. Liza Dooley. I don't answer the call, but wait for her to leave a voice mail. When she does, I listen to it. She wants to meet in regard to the loan agreement. Just as I predicted. I knew patience would get me everywhere. I’ll call her back later.
While Suzette works on the tense muscles of my neck, my mind races with the possibilities of what this means.
I wasn't sure if Liza would get in touch with me after our original meeting to sign the loan paperwork. I thought she might. It was clear that she liked what she saw, but for whatever reason she never picked up the phone.
When she decided for a year-long grace period, I realized then it probably wouldn't be enough time for her to be working in the black. Start-ups take longer than most people think.
This bodes well.
It's been hard to keep her off my mind. She's always had that effect on me. I’d wonder how she’s doing with her business, in her personal life. She wasn’t wearing a ring. That gave me a tremendous amount of happiness.
Half an hour later when my massage is finished, I get up and pay Suzette, adding a generous tip, and bid her farewell.
Grabbing my phone, I dial Garrett's number. He picks up on the third ring.
"Meet me for lunch?" I ask before he even has a chance to speak.
"Sure. Everything okay? You sound amped up," Garrett says.
"I'm great. I'll see you in an hour downtown, you know the place."
"See you then." He ends the call.
Running upstairs, I have a quick shower and change.
The traffic in the city is jammed up today. Waves of stress creep up the back of my shoulders, undoing all the work Suzette put in this morning.
Sitting in standstill bumper-to-bumper traffic, I decide to play Liza's message again.
"Donovan, it's Liza Dooley. I was hoping we could get together at your earliest convenience." Her tone has a shaky quality and she clears her throat. "It's in regard to the loan agreement. Please call me back."
Playing it back again, all of a sudden, some of the tension in my body melts away.
I assumed this would happen. She's going to need to renegotiate the terms. She needs me again. I wasn't sure I'd hear from her for another few months. It's been eight months so far since she signed the contract and it's clear that she knows paying back this loan in four months is going to be harder than she once anticipated. I could hear the defeat in her voice. I don't know what it says about me that I derive so much pleasure from her situation.
Traffic eventua
lly opens up and I’m able to make it to the restaurant on time. I even find a place to park right down the street. All of a sudden, things are starting to look up.
Inside the restaurant, Garrett waits for me in our usual spot. And, as always, he's early. I make my way to the table and have a seat.
"Well, isn't this the perfect welcome," I say as I lift the glass of scotch in front of me and take a sip.
He smiles and nods, lifting his own glass and taking a drink. "It sounded like you could use it when you called today."
"It's true. Work has been more stressful than normal and I've had to clock in sixty plus hours a week for the last three weeks." Those are the types of hours I used to work when I was just starting out. In the last five years, my schedule has become laxer due to opening my own firm and hiring people to do the grunt work for me.
Garrett cocks his head and gives me an unsympathetic frown. "You know I don’t feel sorry for you, but you'll get through it. When the smoke clears, why don't you take some time off and go to Monroe Cay? I can have everything ready for you. Just tell me when you're ready to go."
Opening my menu, I stare at it and immediately know what I'm ordering.
Just then, the waitress stops by and we place our orders.
"Thanks, I'll think about it." My brother is so rich that he bought himself a private island in the Caribbean. It's beautiful and might be just what I need, but I can’t even think about a vacation right now. Looking back up at him, he's wearing a shit-eating grin. "What's going on with you?"
"Sorry, I was just thinking about my time this morning with Camille."
"You have it bad," I say. I’m really happy for my brother. His ex-wife totally screwed him over and got pregnant with another man's kid. Even though I'm happy for the guy, I'm not jealous. I'm having way too much fun in my life to be tied down to one woman. I look at life like a buffet. There's way too much to sample and enjoy to be stuck with one flavor forever.
