Charley (15 page)

He answered just like I thought. “Yeah, I think … it might.”

There was a long pause while we both thought about it. At least we both answered honestly. But the atmosphere became a little more serious. His question had suggested he might want to see me again. But my answer might have changed his mind. I needed to see where we were at this point. Were we going to see each other again?

“We’ve had an incredible weekend,” I started off. “You’re everything I imagined you to be and after last night and today, I’ve begun to see you as someone I really want to know better. Lord knows, I know you now in bed, but, like the scripture said this morning, I want to know your
heart
. I guess I’m just beating around the bush. What I really want to ask is this. Is there a chance we can take our relationship to a different level? I really want to see you again, and get to know you better.”

I stared at PJ, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. When he didn’t respond immediately but hesitated for a long time, I suspected the worst. And he didn’t disappoint.

“Maybe we should just thank our lucky stars for meeting and having an incredible weekend, and then go on our separate ways.”

My heart stopped in its tracks.

“I don’t know Charley, I really don’t know. Be truthful, you planned all this. Was this weekend just to be about satisfying your need for sex? Satisfy your damn fantasy? Did your plans include anything else? Why did you really want to see me? It mustn’t have been just me. You’ve talked about Randle most of the time.”

PJ was calm as he spoke. He didn’t raise his voice. He was sarcastic, but he was remarkably even tempered. It was almost like he really wanted to know the same thing as me. Where do we stand? 

I had no idea how to respond. In my heart I knew I hadn’t thought too much beyond the sexual part of the weekend. Something had happened to change that plan, and I lost control of everything. I didn’t really know where to go from here. I wanted to see PJ again. But I knew it would be hard to have a real relationship with him four hundred miles away. “PJ, the weekend has been so much better than I could ever have imagined. You’re a remarkable lover and I love talking to you. I just don’t know how we could do it, considering the distance between us.” 

But I didn’t respond to the issue that really separated us; the issue of Randle. I looked at PJ to measure how he would respond back. I wanted him to take command of the situation, and reassure me that the distance was no problem and he would make it work. I was disappointed with his response.

“Charley, you remind me so much of Sybil, my first wife. You’re beautiful, intelligent and a fantastic lover. Honestly I’m attracted to you exactly like I was to her, and … well … you know how
that
turned out. I allowed my lust to control me, and I just didn’t make a good decision with her. On top of that Randle is always sitting on
your
shoulder.  Anytime I hold you, I’m afraid he’ll jump down there between us. Or you’ll be thinking of Randle and not me. I know it’s not logical, but for me it’s real, and I just don’t know if I can handle it.”

His response was too damn honest. I knew he was right, but it’s not what I wanted to hear. I said the only thing I could under the circumstances. “I apologize. I’m so very sorry PJ. I do want to see you again, will you think about it?”

But he said something that somehow flamed up the embers of possibilities. “Charley, I will think about it. I’ll think real hard, I promise.”

We didn’t talk too much longer. I slipped my clothes back on, as did PJ. I took his hand and led him to the big sofa in the living room. We sat and held each other, kissed a little but nothing else.

As we were going to bed, PJ muttered. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

I can’t let him do that.

“No you’ll sleep with me. Remember that’s part of the plan for this weekend.”

I almost cried.

We got into bed with no clothes on, and I snuggled my back up against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me and held my breast. But it just wasn’t the same.

I cried all the way back to town from Nashville International. Earlier that morning, we had gotten up, showered, dressed and stopped at IHOP for pancakes. The mood was somber. Neither one of wanted to really talk about last night and the question that was on both our minds.

Do we have a future?

I guess PJ didn’t know, and I sure as hell didn’t know. I wanted us to at least see each other enough to think about it. But it was plain that my aggressiveness just wasn’t right for this first meeting, after so many years. I didn’t know about Sybil. I didn’t think any man would react negatively to sex. One thing for sure, I found out that my reality man was far more complex, and a lot better than my fantasy man. Only problem is I screwed up, and would probably never see him again.

I dropped him off at the gate. He gave me one of those mechanical kisses and added a non-committal ‘I’ll see you.’

As I drove back, I replayed the weekend over and over in my mind. The sad thing is I don’t think I would, or could, have done anything differently. The truth is I blew it. When I admitted that, was when I started crying.

Mondays are generally slow at Jimmy’s. The lunch crowd is normal, but for dinner and cocktail hour we just keep the doors open, and have a minimal staff. I generally see vendors and insurance salesmen on Mondays. This Monday was normal. My schedule was full, I had my beverage vendor, Vincent and the bread gal, and some hot shot employee benefits guy named Steve, who had, according to him, the best insurance plan ever conceived.

But, I knew something was wrong when Ronnie met me just inside the door. “There are some people from our potential investor group waiting for you in the lounge. They don’t have an appointment so I told them they would have to wait a few minutes. You were out of the Bar this morning.”

“Thanks, Ronnie. I can’t see them like this. I need to get upstairs to freshen up. This hasn’t been a good morning.”

“Coach?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you later.”

I put on my business face, and walked into the lounge. “Folks, good to see you; I’m a little surprised because I wasn’t expecting you until Wednesday.”

The group of three men and one woman stood up as I approached them. “Ms. Howard, I’m Zackary Quinn, with the Player’s Investor Group.”

Sensing a long introduction, I cut Mr. Quinn short. “I’ve been jogging this morning, so would you mind if I freshened up a bit. Might be better for all of us,” I replied with a friendly laugh.

Before Quinn could agree or object, I turned and headed for the kitchen, and the stairs to the apartment. At the door, I turned and called back. “I know it’s morning, but drinks are on the house. Tell Larry behind the bar what you want; I won’t be long.”

And with that I swept through the swinging doors.

I hate ambushes and this felt like one. On the phone, when they’d called expressing an interest, there had been an insistence on a Wednesday afternoon meeting. So why now? No matter. I can handle anything, well almost anything. In twenty minutes, I returned, showered and fresh, ready to take on the world. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced to everyone in the bar. “I do hope Larry has taken good care of you. Larry, may I have an Arnold Palmer please?”

I confidently approached the group, and after the introductions were made, invited them to sit around one of our group tables in the dining room. “We should have some privacy here. Customers won’t be in until around 11:00 which gives us a couple of hours. By the way, I’ve asked Ronnie Mitchell, one of my closest advisors, to sit in on this meeting. Hope that’s okay?”

For the next ninety minutes, I listened while this group outlined their proposals for investing in Jimmy’s. Most of it was a verbal rehash of the material in the packet they had sent. They could have told me in four sentences what they wanted.

‘We are looking for unique and profitable concepts.’

‘We are willing to invest heavily in the development, and spreading the Jimmy’s concept to multiple locations.’

‘We can secure an attractive financial package.’

‘Our goal is to partner with you in building a large profitable business.’

Simple, except for one new wrinkle.

“Ms. Howard, there is one thing not in our initial proposal. We think it is important.”

“Well?”

“We think the name should be changed to Brewster’s. It keeps the identification with Mr. Brewster, of course, but, based on our research, the name Brewster’s has more appeal outside Nashville. Jimmy’s has an excellent reputation in this area but does not fit the image we see for an upscale Bar or Restaurant. It also gives us some flexibility in advertising if you are able to expand your microbrewery capabilities.”

“I am not sure about that, Mr. Quinn. Adding a bakery or pushing the in house brewed beers is one thing, but changing the name might be going too far.  I’ll have to think about that one.”

“Very well; just a suggestion, of course, but we like the idea.”

Other than this last revelation, I listened intently, but didn’t feel as excited as perhaps I should. Maybe it was PJ, or maybe it was the presentation.

“Mr. Quinn, I appreciate your presentation. I am interested in expanding Jimmy’s and have been looking at ways to make that happen, so your timing is perfect. I will take time to discuss it with my advisors and be in touch.”

“Ms. Howard, we have a unique situation that demands a relatively quick deadline. The reason we came to see you before Wednesday is that our financing partner is anxious, for his own business reasons, to have a plan started as soon as possible.  He wants us to at least have a letter of understanding before next weekend. Could I impose on you to give us another meeting on Thursday, to allow us time to begin working out the details? Assuming you’re still interested, of course?”

“I’ll try, Mr. Quinn, I will try. Next Thursday? Why don’t we meet at 1:00 at the First Commerce Bank up the street?  I’m sure Shelby Loomis will let us use his conference room.”

I stood up and walked them to the door.

After all the hands had been shaken and the goodbyes said, I looked at Ronnie to get his reaction to the proposal. “Well?”

“Well, they said all the right things, and you do want to grow the business. I’m sure back in those days Jimmy never envisioned the business being more than a neighborhood bar. Maybe this is your opportunity to make a name for yourself. But changing the name… I don’t know”

“I don’t know either, Ronnie; we’ve done awfully well like we are. I’ll need to ask around about that.  I suspect I know how you feel. Other than that, I am not getting a warm and fuzzy feeling.  I really don’t like to be pushed. I mean Thursday? Isn’t that a little fast?”

“Yes, it is. Why don’t you go through their proposal and let it marinate a little? The right way may finally become obvious.”

“Thanks, Ronnie.”

He was always there and had been for years, well before I came along. Truthfully, Ronnie knew Jimmy’s vision better than I ever did. Sometimes, I feel like an intruder in their dream. I suspect the Bar should belong to Ronnie. He can run it a lot better than I can …

Monday morning was busy. While Charley and PJ hustled to beat the traffic on the way to Newark International for PJ’s flight home, Ronnie Mitchell picked up his phone and called his friend Shelby Loomis at the First Commerce Bank.

“I need to speak to Shelby, please.”

“Just a minute, I will see if he’s in yet. Who may I say is calling?”

“Just tell him Hog One is calling.”

The desk phone on Loomis’s desk rang, “Mr. Loomis, call on line three.”

“Who is it, Stephanie?”

“He said to tell you Hog One was calling.”

With a laugh, Loomis said, “Thank you Stephanie, Morning, Ronnie. I haven’t heard Hog One since you and I played on the defensive line at Franklin High.”

“Morning Shelby, I thought you would get a laugh. Say, how about lunch today. I’ll buy you a sandwich at the Deli.”

“What’s going on Ronnie, did Charley put out a contract on me?”

 “Almost did. Seriously, we need to talk. Meet you at the Deli at 1:00?”

“See you then, Hog One.” As Loomis hung up the phone, he reached for the folder on the edge of his desk.

I guess I better read this proposal again.

It was 12:45 when Ronnie Mitchell sat down at Fresh Deli. “Thanks Marge, I’ll have coffee, with a packet of sweetener; Shelby is coming so better bring him a cup when he gets here.”

At five minutes to one, Shelby Loomis, bank president, arrived, confidant of the power structure and a facilitator of the financial source behind the growth of Nashville, sat across from his best friend Ronnie Mitchell, maître d' of the informal political hub of the region.

Marge brought him a cup of coffee and took their orders.  Ronnie took a sip of his coffee, “Okay Shelby, what happened Friday morning? Charley came back to the Bar as mad as a swarm of angry hornets.”

“I bet she was. Ronnie, after the normal pleasantries, she asked about the loan for expanding Jimmy’s. I knew I couldn’t loan any money now, so I told her.”

“Why not? The proposal was tight, all the numbers were conservative.”

“It’s a long story but the bottom-line is simple. My lending committee let me know they were in no mood to make any loans now unless there is a near perfect credit rating and strong collateral. They’re afraid we are heading into a recession and frankly that will impact your business dramatically if people cut back on spending out.”

“Did you tell Charley all that?”

“Well … no I didn’t.”

“Shelby, you’re a great banker but a lousy salesman. Charley left the bank thinking your refusal was personal, directed at her.”

“My God, I’m sorry.  Is that why she stormed out of the Bank?”

“Partially, but not entirely.”

“Well what else?”

“You called her ‘honey’, dummy. She’s a successful business woman in this town and you dismissed her like a teenager. She is more pissed that you called her ‘honey’ than anything else. Why the hell did you do that?”