I arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes early. No way did I want to arrive late and apologetic. I ordered an iced latte and looked around for a seat. The couch by the window? No, too cozy. But most of the small tables were occupied. Rats. Maybe I should have suggested something like that funky retro place Lee Boyer had taken me to after he showed me the six-flat . . . no, no, no. Meet Philip at the same place I’d been with Lee? Too weird. This would have to do.
A middle-aged guy with a shock of uncombed hair packed up his computer, stuffed it in a messenger bag, and vacated a tiny table by the opposite window. I zipped over and claimed the space, swiping crumbs off the table with a napkin he’d left.
I sipped my latte, letting the creamy cold coffee soothe my nerves. Philip’s black Lexus slowed outside just as an El train rattled into the station overhead, unloaded and loaded, and pulled out again. New customers fresh off the train trailed in. The Lexus disappeared from sight . . . but a few minutes later Philip pushed open the door and walked in.
Several heads turned as he entered. The glances of the females lingered. Couldn’t blame them. Even at forty-one, Philip Fairbanks had movie-star good looks. Tall and slender, his dark hair and tan skin complemented the pale green dress shirt he wore with an open collar, topping a neat pair of black slacks and black loafers.
Two twentysomethings at a nearby table wearing Gap-inspired wrinkle-look tops, short skirts, and flip-flops gave each other gosh-darn-it looks when Philip headed for my table and sat down across from me. For a nanosecond, a smug smile tugged at the corner of my mouth—that age-old rivalry when The Man chooses The Alpha Woman over the other females in the herd. I’d dressed carefully—white slacks, russet cotton top that complemented my reddish-gold auburn hair, russet-colored beaded earrings that dangled, and gold strap sandals. But reality snuffed out the smug smile. If they only knew. I had to stifle the urge to toss out, “You want him? You can have him! ”
“Thanks for meeting me, Gabrielle.” Philip took off his wraparound sunglasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket.
How did we start this talk anyway? “Do you want to get a coffee? Something to drink?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. Everything okay with the boys this week? Do they have everything they need to start school?”
Okay, safe start. Talk about the boys. “Pretty much. They still need backpacks. Might need some sports equipment, depending on what they sign up for. And winter coats and boots when the time comes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what? Are you offering to get that stuff for the boys?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
I wanted to say, “See? We should have met with our lawyers to iron out all the child support stuff, get it down on paper.” But I sipped my iced latte to keep from filling up space with empty chatter.
“I—” Philip glanced out the window a moment, then back at me. “I know this might sound phony after everything that’s happened, but I really am sorry about your mother, Gabrielle. Sorry she died staying in a shelter. I, uh . . .” He cleared his throat. “At the time, I thought it’d be better for everyone if she had her own place, a retirement home or something. Didn’t think you’d put her in the shelter. It’s just . . . everything felt out of control— summer plans for the boys falling through, losing an important client at work, the house suddenly crowded . . .”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. What was he saying? Was he apologizing for kicking my mother out? Not really. Sorry things worked out the way they did? I was supposed to feel sorry for him because things felt out of control?
My hand holding the tall latte started to shake. I set it down and put my hands in my lap.
Philip actually kept eye contact. “It’s been a rough time for all of us. But in the long run, you seem to be doing good, Gabby. The money from your folks . . . that was a surprise. Who would have thought? I’m glad things are working out for you.”
I hardly knew how to respond. He actually sounded glad— relieved?—I’d gotten myself together. But I still didn’t trust myself to speak. Or maybe I didn’t trust what he was saying.
He glanced at the tables near us and lowered his voice. “But to be honest, things haven’t been going too well on my end. The business . . . well, a start-up company has its highs and lows. Just can’t sustain too many lows. And personally . . . I’ll be frank. I’ve gotten myself in kind of a jam. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
I all but snorted. Philip—confident, bold, over-the-top, I-can-do-anything Philip Fairbanks—was actually admitting things weren’t going well? If the business was floundering, what did that have to do with me?
But my thoughts must have been plastered all over my face because he held up both hands, palms out, as if begging for patience. “Just hear me out, Gabby. I need a loan—a personal loan. I’ve got a debt I need to pay off, and—”
“A loan?” I found my voice. So that’s what this was about! “You want me to give you a loan? Good grief, Philip, you’ve got all kinds of credit! Just ask the bank for a loan.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that easy. Uh, things have gotten complicated. I’ve let business and personal stuff overlap . . . when you own the company, it’s easy to do, you know. Anyway, while that’s getting sorted out, a loan the size I need would take a whole lot of paperwork and collateral I can’t afford right now. And time. Time is an issue. I need this loan right away.”
My eyes narrowed. “It’s a gambling debt, isn’t it?”
He threw open his hands. “I’ve made some mistakes. Right now I just want to take care of my debts and get back on track.”
“Mistakes. Uh-huh. Exactly what size loan are you talking about?”
He tried to be casual. “Twenty-five thousand. Fifty would be better. Would get me back on track faster. Just need to get over this hump.”
I wanted to laugh. Hysterically. “Philip Fairbanks! This is ridiculous. I work for a homeless shelter, for heaven’s sake. Part time, I might add, until the boys go back to school. You’ve got a commercial real estate company that’s capable of pulling in big bucks. Why ask me?”
“I told you, the company’s had some rough times lately. And, well, this is personal. I’d rather not involve Henry. I know you got some money from your folks. I don’t know how much, but an inheritance usually comes in a lump sum. I’m talking about a short-term loan. Short-term, Gabrielle. I’ll pay it back. I just need to put things straight, get back on track. You know I’m good for it.”
I started shaking my head the moment he said “money from your folks.” “I need that money, Philip. And you know it. I’m starting from scratch, thanks to you.” A well of emotion threatened to push through the plug I’d stuck in it. I stood up, bumping the table and almost sending my half-empty latte onto the floor. But I grabbed it in time and stalked to the counter to get a glass of water. This was why we met in a public place or I might have gone off on Philip right about then.
I was tempted to head out the door without even finishing the conversation. But I took my ice water back to the table and sat down. “Besides,” I said, as if I hadn’t left, “I have plans for that money.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I know. You’d like to buy that building. Which seems like a big risk, Gabby. I’d hate to see you get in over your head—”
“I don’t believe this! You’ve got a gambling debt, and you’re talking to me about risk?”
He put up his hands again. “Okay, point taken. But even if you go ahead with that plan, unless you’re signing papers today, you won’t need a down payment for another couple of weeks, right? And by then I’ll have the money back to you. With interest.
I promise. And . . .” His voice trailed off, and he started to draw circles on the table with his finger.
I waited. I really should just get up and walk out the door. But he seemed to be struggling to say something. Morbid curiosity got the better of me. “And?”
The circles stopped and he looked up, his brown eyes searching mine. “Once I’m out from under this cloud, Gabby, maybe we could sit down and talk about where we go from here. You and me, I mean. And the boys. Maybe . . . maybe it’s not too late to repair the damage.”
It was like he knocked the breath out of me. What did he just say? Repair the damage? Did he really say that?
I stood up, not looking at him, reaching for my purse. “It’s almost six. The boys are waiting for you.”
He followed me out to the sidewalk. “Will you consider the loan, Gabby?”
Another El train lurched and groaned into the station overhead.
“When?” I shouted over the din.
“When?” Philip grimaced. “Well, yesterday would be good.”
I headed for my car without replying but heard him call after me, “Just think about it, Gabrielle. Please?”