“. . . Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“I appreciate your time.”

“Your friend Eric says you’re quite the poker player.”

Phillip shifted in his seat, steering a course between modest and boastful. “I played all through college, starting my freshman year at Princeton.”

Dante smiled and his dimples flashed briefly. “No need to mention Princeton again. I know where you went to school. Was this high stakes or you taking change off a bunch of donkeys at some frat house?”

“Actually, I played in Atlantic City and picked up enough change most weekends to cover my expenses.”

“You didn’t work your way through school?”

“I didn’t need to.”

“Lucky you,” Dante said, “though, just off the top of my head, poker parlors couldn’t be the lifestyle your dad had in mind for you.”

“Well, no, sir. I expect to work. That’s why I got my degree. At this point, I’m just not sure what I want to do.”

“But you’ll decide soon.”

“I hope. I mean, that’s certainly my intention.” Under his sport coat, Phillip felt his shirt dampen, sticking to his back. There was something fearsome about the man, almost as though there were two of him, the one benevolent, the other pitiless. On the surface he seemed affable, but underneath, a shadow personality was in play, prickly and sharp. Phillip was anxious, uncertain from moment to moment which of the two he was dealing with. Now Dante’s smile faded and the alternate took over. Maybe it was in business matters that Dante became dangerous.

“And you’ve come to me for what?”

“Eric says you sometimes advance him cash if he’s experiencing a shortfall situation. I was hoping you’d do the same for me.”

Dante’s tone was pleasant, but the benevolence didn’t reach his eyes. “A sideline of mine. I lend money to people the banks won’t touch. For this I charge fees and administrative costs. How much are you looking for?”

“Ten?”

Dante stared at him. “Lot of money for a kid.”

Phillip cleared his throat. “Well, ten . . . you know, ten gives me breathing room. That’s how I look at it, at any rate.”

“I take it Eric explained my terms.”

Phillip shook his head. “Not entirely. I thought I should hear it from you.”

“The charge is twenty-five dollars per hundred per week, payable along with the principal when the note comes due.”

Phillip’s mouth was dry. “That seems steep.”

Dante opened his bottom drawer and pulled out a sheath of papers. “If you like, you can take your chances at the Bank of America two blocks down State. I’ve got the application forms right here.” He tossed a BofA loan application on the desk.

“Hey, no. I understand and I appreciate the position you’re in. You have expenses like everybody else.”

Dante made no response.

Phillip leaned forward, trying for solid eye contact, two men of the world getting down to business. “I’m wondering if twenty-five per hundred is the best you can do?”

“‘The best I can do’? You want to haggle with me?”

“Oh, no, sir. Not at all. That’s not what I meant. I just thought there might be some wiggle room.” He could feel the heat as a belated flush crept into his cheeks.

“Based on what? Our long and productive association? Your prowess at the table? Word has it, you got stuck for five grand at Caesars last week. You want my ten so you can recoup your losses and run up the rest. You think you’ll pay me off, including the juice, and keep the balance for yourself. Is that about it?”

“Actually, that’s how I’ve done it in the past.”

“‘Actually’ you can kiss my ass. All I care about is getting my money back.”

“Absolutely. No problem. You have my word.”

Dante stared at him until he looked away. “How much time are we talking here?”

“A week?”

Dante reached over and flipped a page on his desk calendar. “Monday, August 11.”

“That’d be great.”

Dante made a note.

Phillip hesitated, unsure what came next. “Is there paperwork?”

“Paperwork?”

“An IOU or contract you want me to sign?”

Dante waved off the idea. “Don’t worry about it. Gentlemen’s agreement. We shake hands and it’s done. Check with Nico on your way out and he’ll give you the cash.”