Page 22 of He Has Charm

“Whose debt is it, Harper? Why do you have to pay someone else’s debt?” My voice is as gentle as I can make it because I have this driving need to know what’s going on so I can fix it, an irrational need because in spite of the fact that we’re partners like I told her, it’s not like she’s family, or even a close friend. I barely know the girl.

But I don’t back off or take my words back. I wait for her to confess everything because nothing else will satisfy me.

“It’s nothing. I don’t have gambling debts. I have law school loans and a bill collector—the harmless variety—calling me regularly to remind me to make payments because I missed one lousy payment six months ago. You’d think I was—”

“Law school loans? Why would you cop to gambling debts if this is all about law school loans?” I have no idea what the real story is here. If I had to trust my instincts, I’d say she was telling the truth about the law school loans and it makes sense. Except her missing a payment doesn’t make sense because she’s meticulous when it comes to details. That much I’ve learned about her in the past couple of days.

“Because you—I didn’t—never mind.” She pushes back, making the table rock and the dishes clatter with the sudden move. I stand to come around the table. At the same exact time she stands. We’re close, almost body-to-body. We stare at each other for a beat, within a breath of each other as I take in her scent. Fuck. If I bend my head, I could brush my lips against hers, taste them. She breaks eye contact first, turning away and stepping aside.

“Wait a sec—why did you miss a loan payment and why haven’t you caught it up? Doesn’t Jett pay you enough? I’ll have to talk to Ham about underpaying you—”

“No, it’s not like that. He’s more than generous. Sit down and eat before you starve. I don’t want to be responsible for you being too depleted to play hockey.” I sit back down because my stomach gnaws in agreement with her suggestion and the smell of the food draws me in like a cartoon character transported by the aroma.

“You sit and eat too. Same reason. Except about playing hockey.” She almost smiles, hesitates, and then relents. When she sits, she picks up a piece of bread and butters it. Hallelujah. She’s a living, breathing woman with needs and an appetite after all.

“Maybe I can subtly suggest to Jett that he should give you a raise,” I say, digging into the pasta again because I could swear it’s the best homemade pasta I’ve ever eaten and that’s saying a lot. I’m a legit pasta slut, or connoisseur as my mom would say, though it’s a guilty pleasure left over from when me and my dad used to make it from scratch together.

I’m a connoisseur of women too. I wonder if Harper knew how much I love pasta when she ordered it? Impossible. How could she? I never eat it now except on rare occasions like holidays.

“No, don’t talk to Jett. Really there’s no need because if I can get your promo deal with Mama Regina’s back he’ll share the commission and give me a bonus, which is unheard of at other agencies.” I chew on her words, and on a meatball. The problem may not be Ham Jett, but I know something’s not right. She’s holding back and I need to crack her. God only knows why.

“Then what’s the problem? Why did you miss a payment?”

“None of your business.” She shoves half a roll into her mouth as if that’s going to stop me from prodding her.

“Tell me. Two heads are better than one and I have a feeling we can resolve your issue if we put our minds to it.”

“Not really. It’s my issue to resolve.”

“So you admit there’s an issue and it’s not that you’re underpaid. It’s that you have extraordinary expenses. Tell me,” I repeat because I’m stubborn by nature.

“Oh my god. You’re not going to leave this alone until I tell you, are you?”

I shake my head and work hard not to let my mouth twitch even a little.

“Fine. But it’s still none of your business.” She pauses a beat and studies the harbor view outside our window as she speaks in a low voice like she’s revealing a horrible secret. “I need to send two grand a month home to my mom to help her with her mortgage and household expenses or she’ll be on the street.”

“What the fuck? On the street? What’s that all about?” A familiar sense of outrage at the unfairness of life grips me. “I know how family can be expensive and how important it is for everyone to be whole. My family is like that. One person’s problem is everyone’s problem, especially the financial ones.”

“Your family is lucky to have you to lean on. You cover everything.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a generous streak visible from outer space,” she says. Then she shuts up and looks away again.

“How would you know about my generosity?” I take precautions to make sure my charitable work is all anonymous. It works best all around that way. No need for children’s hospitals to worry about their benefactor being a porn star for instance, even an accidental one, if no one knows who the benefactor is.

“I know all about your theoretically anonymous charitable donations and other expenses.” She waves around her half-eaten roll as she speaks. “Including how you paid for your sisters’ weddings and your mom’s new house. I have privileged access to all the accounts and information held by the Jett agency—but don’t worry. I would never say a word to anyone.”

“Shit. I guess you would know. You must be Ham’s right-hand man—I mean woman.”

She nods.

“So it’s only fair that you tell me about your finances since you now all about mine,” I say. “What happened to your mom to put her on the verge of being homeless if you don’t cover her mortgage?”

“My dad… recently passed.”

“I’m sorry—”