Charley (2 page)

“So what are you going to do?” Jimmy leaned in close and put his arm around his friend. “What do you want us to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything. I just want you guys to help me protect Kate and the baby,” Shelby whispered.

“Don’t ever tell anyone, please.”

The crowd at the bar was loud, the music was blaring, couples were draped over each other, and I was standing at the bar waiting to grab my date and join the fun. Suddenly the noise muted. The couples continued swaying to the jungle beat and my date disappeared. No one paid any attention to me. The next moment, I was in the lobby of the bar standing alone. Suddenly a cold breeze swept over me as a man stepped in from the cold. Our eyes met and without a word we rushed to each other’s arms. Next, somehow, I was sitting naked on a bear rug in front of a roaring fire in a dim lit mountain cabin. Beside me was PJ McCoy, naked, sipping a beer, wearing a red baseball cap and smiling. I leaned toward him. I knew I had to have him, now!

The alarm rang and I woke up in a cold sweat. It took me a few seconds to realize I was in
my
bed in
my
apartment over
my
Bar and Grill, lying there with an inane grin on my face. I had kicked the covers off during the night, and was sprawled limply on the damp sheet, one pillow between my legs and my arms wrapped around another. I felt silly just lying there, but at the same time a feeling of peace and contentment washed over me.

Just another night with my dream man! And I am going to meet him tonight for real, oh, yeah!

Today was going to be a good day. At 3:30 this afternoon, I was meeting with my bank about the loan we needed to expand the Bar. That meeting was important for my business. I felt good about the prospects.

But, I was more excited about what I had meticulously planned for this evening. I was finally going to meet my dream man … and I was going to see if he really was the man I hoped he was.

*****

It’s hot today. Not a dry heat. This is our fourth day of this sticky humid heat. The official temperature is 101 degrees, but the ‘feels like’ temperature is 106 degrees. Old folks were warned to stay inside. Even the homeless had enough sense to flock to the air conditioned shelters around town. The air was so heavy that walking outside was like strolling through a swimming pool. Even when you walked on the shady side of the street, within minutes you were soaking wet. Only idiots or those with absolutely necessary business ventured out. If I had any sense, I would have rescheduled my appointment today. Since I didn’t do that, I must be one of those idiots. 

So, I trudged through the heat to my appointment with Shelby Loomis at the First Commerce Bank. The sixty year old Loomis was the elder statesman of banking and finance in Nashville. Twelve years ago, he succeeded his father as President and CEO of the bank, which old Mr. Loomis founded in the 1950s.

Not only was Shelby Loomis a major force in banking, but he was reputed to be the king-maker in Republican politics in Nashville and probably the State of Tennessee as well. More importantly, he is my banker and my friend, a kind of older mentor.

I will have to admit the heat didn’t bother me this day. With a good response from Loomis, and with my plans for the evening, I was feeling particularly good. But I still had to be out in this miserable weather to get the loan, and I needed to check on my plans for getting my dream man to the Bar that evening.

Business at Jimmy’s Bar and Grill had been good for the last few years, primarily because of our location two blocks off the tourist district on lower Broadway. We had our steady customers of local politicians and business folks, and we also enjoyed a healthy, steady trade from Nashville’s locals. We had become an upscale hangout, close enough to the action on Broadway, but sufficiently off the path to give us some exclusivity.

Our old building had a colorful past, starting out in the 1870s as a warehouse for the goods transported by boat to and from Nashville on the Cumberland River. In the 1920s, the building became a brewery and bar. With prohibition, it converted to a speakeasy and nightclub, as well as headquarters for the criminal elements associated with the bootleg whiskey business which flourished in Nashville. With the Great Depression, several churches converted it to a homeless shelter. World War II eliminated much of the need for a homeless shelter, but the old building was needed as a garment factory where one hundred and seventy-five women sat at commercial sewing machines, making uniforms for our men and women in arms. It remained a garment plant into the 1960’s until the cost of a downtown factory became prohibitive. During the 1960s and the 1970s the building sat virtually empty. In 1976, three Vietnam veterans bought the three story building, opened a veteran friendly bar and grill on the first floor and used the remaining two stories for an apartment and for storage. In the early 1980’s, organized crime discovered Nashville, and the downtown bar for good old boys became the base for one of Nashville’s most notorious crime bosses.

I own that bar, well I have a long term lease on the building, and that history now. The hoods are gone, but the old wooden floors and the rugged red bricks still contain memories of their storied past.    

We needed to capitalize on the building’s history, and our reputation as an upscale bar and grill, by adding dining room space and introducing a gourmet bakery to our offerings. We had also been approached by an investor group to discuss franchising our restaurant concept. That takes money; and Shelby Loomis had the money. So I endured the heat to discuss our proposal.

I walked from Jimmy’s, up Second Avenue to Church Street, and left to the bank on the corner of Fourth and Church. The normal ten minute walk past Printer’s Alley took me nearly twenty-five minutes because of the heat. When I finally stepped inside the bank, the cold air was refreshing but frigid. I hastened to the rest room off the lobby to make myself presentable again. I took out a paper towel and plunged it down the front of my Lilly Pulitzer blouse and tried to dry my chest and shoulders. The heat had done a number on my hair leaving it stringy, with all the styling I had worked so hard to fix totally gone. I brushed it but it wasn’t the same. I washed my face, refreshed my makeup and smoothed out the wrinkles in my skirt and blouse. After a long look in the mirror I pronounced myself ready to see the mighty Shelby Loomis.

When Mrs. Watson ushered me into his elegant office, Shelby rose from his maroon leather chair and came around the massive oak desk. “Charlotte, how do you keep so pretty in this devilish weather?”

“Good genes and a handy little ole make up emergency bag I carry. Thank you for the compliment, Shelby. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

“You’re more than welcome and thank you. Want something to drink? A Coke or water?”

“I’ll take a glass of iced water, thank you.”

When Mrs. Watson brought me the water, Shelby and I sat at the small round table near the window facing Fourth Avenue. We talked about the weather, the sports scene in Nashville, and everything else except the reason for my visit. I guess we both expected it to burst out unexpectedly at any time. Giving in to the tension, I asked. “Shelby, I know you’re busy, and I need to get back. What do we need to do to get the loan I requested in our proposal?”

There was a long pause as my friend’s demeanor changed. His lips closed, and he diverted his eyes from my face to the table top. His look told me he had transitioned from being my friend to becoming my banker. He cleared his throat. I watched as he raised his eyes to mine; the scowl on his face didn’t give me a good feeling. The proposal was on the table in front of him. He rested his hands on the black folder, shook his head and I knew something was wrong.

“Well?” I said.

He put his hands on the table and leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “Charlotte, I just can’t do it”

I didn’t pick up on it at that moment, but later I realized his tone of voice and his facial expression had a melancholy look when he delivered the bad news. Frankly, he took me by surprise. I expected that loan, hell, I needed that loan. Perhaps it was the heat, maybe it was his seemingly casual demeanor, or maybe it was just simply me, but regardless of the reason, I admit, I reacted poorly.

“What do you mean you can’t loan me any money.  Don’t you think I’m good for it? Don’t I have enough money already deposited in your bank? You didn’t even look at my proposal much less study it. Did you, Shelby? Come on Shelby, what gives?”

The man had been my banker and friend for years; we had done business long before this. I was frustrated. I assumed he understood that so much depended on the bank making the loan. Besides, he was my friend, and had never denied me before.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte honey. I just can’t loan you any money now.”

My defenses immediately went up. My frustration took control. What did he call me?

The son of a bitch called me ‘honey!’

“What did you say? You called me ‘honey’? You pull the loan out from under me and then expect to smooth over it by calling me ‘honey’? That’s it Shelby Loomis. I believe I might have to consider changes in our banking relationship.”

My temperature was involuntarily rising; I fought it, but lost my attempt to gain control of my emotions. I picked up my bag and headed for the door. 

Loomis followed. “Charlotte, wait …”

The bang of the door hitting the doorstop reverberated through the bank lobby. I was determined to get out of there as fast as possible. I didn’t take time to nod at Brenda at her desk, or Todd behind the counter. My heels make a click-clack sound on those marble floors, like a tap dancer doing the heel-toe rata-tat-tat across the room. I swept out the front door relieved to be leaving that jerk.

I was instantly brought back to reality as I walked out of the front door and was slapped with the hot rush of heat from the July sun. Tell you the truth, at that moment I was hotter than the sun. Anger hung between my mind and my vocal cords and just sat there and fermented. Finally, ‘aghh’ was all I could muster; I was so disgusted.

Off came the cute cotton jacket and on went the sun glasses. I was so mad; I didn’t look at the traffic as I crossed the street heading to the Grand Summit Hotel on the opposite corner, my next stop for the day. You don’t walk fast in this weather or you melt away with the exertion. A deep breath or two and the slower pace helped me gain control.

I can’t let that son of a bitch get me worked up; I got more important things to think about. I had big plans for this evening; big personal plans, and Loomis was not going to put me in a sour mood. My mind reluctantly switched from that sorry Banker to my plans for the evening. To make it work, I needed some help from my friend, Roberto.

Roberto, the aging Italian doorman in his elegant black suit with a red rose in the lapel, stood just inside the door to the ornate lobby. As I walked in, the cool air again washed over me.

“Whew, that feels good,” I said to no one in particular.

Roberto laughed. “It’s a hot day Ms. Howard; you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I know Roberto. But I had to see Loomis at the bank this afternoon before they closed. Say, did you remember the favor I asked you to do for me?”

My whole plan for this evening depended on Roberto.

“I did. I left a note for Coach McCoy to see me before he goes out. Don’t you worry; I’ll get him to Jimmy’s if I have to carry him.”

I hugged my friend. “Thanks, Roberto. Bring Maria in one night, steaks on me. Okay?”

That task settled, I continued to push my way through the heat, and make my way back to Jimmy’s one block down and two over. The sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds. Each step alternated between shade and bright sun, depending on the celestial game being played out above. In front of Jimmy’s Bar and Grill, I stopped to stare at the brick front and ornate windows of the old building. Some days I loved this place, but this wasn’t one of them.

But I have high hopes for what I expected would happen here this evening. As if on cue, the sun beamed between the clouds and reflected off the stained glass of the massive oak doors of the bar.

Hope that’s a good sign for tonight.

The cool interior of the Bar was refreshing. I didn’t think I could stand being outside any longer. The sweat was already dripping off the tip of my nose. Ronnie Mitchell, my maître d' stood just inside the door. He and Jimmy had been in Vietnam together and he helped start the Bar some thirty five years back. Frankly, Ronnie was more than that; he had run the Bar since Jimmy’s death, even though I was the owner. On a personal level, Ronnie had known my Mom and was my closest friend.

“How was your meeting?” Ronnie asked.

“Can I have a towel first to wipe this sweat off? It’s a killer out there; I don’t see how construction workers stand it.”

Ronnie had some sixth sense; he reached behind the bar for the towel and a glass of cold water he had waiting for me.

I took the towel and wiped a gallon of sweat from my face. I didn’t care what it did to my makeup. I took a gulp of the cold water and rubbed the cold glass on my forehead to relieve some of the heat headache I had developed. “Whew, thanks Ronnie!”

 As I cooled in the air conditioned temperature of the Bar, I thought about this afternoon’s meeting with Shelby Loomis.

“Frankly, Ronnie, I’ve come to loathe bankers and lawyers. But I need them so I have to be nice.”

“So, I take it the meeting went well?” Ronnie replied with a laugh.

“Oh sure, everything was smooth as silk.”

I couldn’t think of anything that really expressed how frustrated and angry I was.

“What happened?”

“I presented our expansion proposal; the one we spent so much time on. Loomis spent barely thirty seconds looking at it, and then with a straight face told me. ‘
The Bank can’t loan you money right now
.’ He had no questions about the proposal or our business, nothing. He hardly had time to read it. I tell you Ronnie, I’m about this close to pulling all our accounts from Shelby Loomis, and telling him to take his bank and shove it.”