“I’m gonna go out on a limb here for you, Nick.” Tony said it like he was doing him a tremendous favor. And he was. The problem with that was, people like Tony Molina always expected something in return for their favors. “You send your order over tomorrow, along with a ten percent payment on the balance and I’ll cover you.”
Ten percent? Nick did a quick tally in his head. If he took money from the last few days revenue, he might be able to swing it. Ever since he’d found out what Ginny had done, he’d been keeping the restaurant’s money in his office safe. He couldn’t put it in the bank, they’d end up taking it to satisfy his debt. And right now, they were at the bottom of his priority list. The restaurant had to be at the top. Without it, all the rest would die, including the community center.
After several more phone calls—all to suppliers and all with the same end result as Molina’s Bakery—Nick was able to finally hang up the phone and breathe a sigh of relief, if for nothing other than not having to face another call. At least not today.
All he had to do was triple his customer base for the next month and he might be able to dig his head out enough to catch a breath.
But that wasn’t likely to happen. Nick pushed himself up from the desk. Inwardly, he felt himself sinking further and further down into the abyss. He strolled around to the front of the desk and leaned against it. This financial crisis had wrapped itself menacingly around him. He felt it sucking the air from his lungs and tightening the noose around his throat.
Ginny. How in the world had he been so blinded by her? How did he not see what she was up to?
Carelessness, that’s how. His carelessness was going to teach him a very tough lesson. He’d trusted Ginny. Hell, he thought he was going to marry her. Look where that got him.
Nick grabbed the chair sitting by the door and slammed it against the door frame. It splintered into pieces. The seat landed in the doorway. He kicked it into the dining room.
Bethany, who was putting the finishing touches on the tables, looked up. Uncertainty drained her face of all color. “Nick…?” She barely got the word out. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a stupid ass. That’s what’s wrong.” He slammed the door shut and glared around the office, considering his next move. Demolishing the chair felt good, but fleeting. Maybe if he broke something else?
He latched onto the coffee table sitting halfway between the door and his desk. Just as he picked it up there was a loud knock on the door.
“Nick?” Dean’s voice bellowed through the wall.
Holding the table in midair, Nick looked at the door. The words, go away, flittered through his mind but never made it past his lips.
“Nick!” Dean’s voice was more forceful this time. The door opened.
Nick gave a disgruntled sigh and set the table back down on the floor. “What?” he said, looking back at Dean.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean came inside the office.
“Breaking shit.”
“Why?”
“It feels good.”
“You’re scaring the hell out of your staff.”
Guilt fogged Nick’s brain. He never meant to scare his employees. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Apologize to them. Not me.”
“I will.” Nick raked his hand through his hair. It felt long, nearly to his collar now. He needed a haircut. He looked around the office, then slumped down onto the coffee table. “I feel like I’m drowning.”
“What’s going on?” Dean stepped toward Nick but remained standing over him. “Things didn’t go as well as you’d hoped with your suppliers?”
“No.” Nick avoided looking at Dean. “Turns out, I’m four to six months behind with everyone who supplies anything to Hang Ten.” At that moment he let his gaze travel up to meet Dean’s.
Dean dragged the chair near the door across the floor and sat down in front of Nick. “Okay, seriously man…is there any other area of your life that Ginny could’ve screwed you out of money?”
Nick laughed and took a moment to think about it. Sadly though, Ginny had cleaned him out of every cent she could get her hands on. “This well has officially run dry.”
Nick could see it in Dean’s eyes, his mind was frantically probing for a solution that’d put Nick on top. He hated to tell his friend that it was a futile search. Finally, Dean said, “Maybe you could sue her for breach of promise.”
Nick’s laughter snorted out even though he’d tried to contain it. “Will that get me a quarter of a million dollars?” he said with light sarcasm. “Because that’s about what I’ll need to get out of the hole Ginny’s dug me into.”
“Quarter of a mil?” Dean’s voice went weak. “That much, huh?”
“Damn near it.” And they both knew it might as well be a million, because Nick didn’t have access to either.
“Times like this make you wish you had a rich relative stashed away somewhere.”
A rich relative? Well, Nick didn’t have that, but he did have the next best thing. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. “Walter.”
Dean looked him straight in the eye. “Walter’s dead.”
“Yes.” Nick stood. “But his foundation is alive and kicking.” He moved toward the office door and closed it. “They know I was in his will. Maybe they’ll give me a low-interest loan.” For the first time in days, Nick felt a spark of hope.
“Could be worth a shot.”
“You’d better hope so.”
“Me?” Dean laid his hand on his chest.
“If I don’t fix this mess soon,” he said. “I’ll lose the restaurant.” He hated to be so blunt, but there it was. “The new owners might not be so inclined to continue funding the community center.”
Dean’s face went pale. Obviously, he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of Nick’s predicament as it trickled down to the community center. Until now.
Now Dean was finally seeing that Nick’s losing Hang Ten would be a disaster on more than one level. Of course, the restaurant would live on, but it would belong to someone else. Nick would be homeless, and he and Dean both would be jobless. But the thing that stabbed at Nick the most was that the community center—the legacy to his brother’s memory—would wither away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LECIE KNEW THEY WERE COMING. Even so, seeing Camille and Tasha and the kids with their nanny Velma standing in her living room with Soren’s brother Gerard turned out to be a bit overwhelming. This was starting to feel a lot like an intervention.