Page 79 of Rewrite the Rules

Tessa:While I have you…how did Joel measure up to his picture? *winky face*

Me:Seriously Tessa?

Tessa:I just bought you the most expensive laptop Apple makes.

Me:Not answering that. But unrelated question: what’s better for aftercare when you get hit by a train right in the crotch? Ice or heat?

Tessa:Ha! Knew it. Of those two options? Weed. Hey, does Joel have well-endowed brothers?

Me:I’m not sure. I’ll make sure to definitely NOT ask for you.

“Ready, Bear? The girls are going to meet us there. Also, I’m about fifteen minutes away from hanger.”

“Yep,” I say, hopping off the couch. “Let’s go.” Reese calls me ‘Bear’, but she’s the grizzly monster when she’s hungry and it’s best not to risk an attack. We slip on our hoodies and our fuzzy boots and trudge forward motivated by exciting new opportunities and a brand-new day and forced determination, and breakfast burritos.

Mostly just breakfast burritos.

twenty-seven

Joel

“Give it to me straight, Lewis. You’ve always been a no-bullshit kind of guy. You’re pulling our funding, aren’t you?” Roland Pentley, founder and CEO of Rychess Media, and my dear friend, adjusts himself on the slick pleather of his office furniture as he crosses his ankle over his knee. He pretends to be armed and ready for this conversation, but the way his foot is jiggling—it could snap off at the ankle at any moment.

“Do you want a drink?” I grab the bottle I brought with me. “Do you have glasses?”

“Okay, now I know you’re pulling funding if you’re offering me the good stuff. Is that Macallan?” Roland grabs two crystal cups from the shelf behind him.

“It is. This is an Edition Number One.”

His face drops in awe. “Am I missing something or are you about to open a three-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey?”

I twist off the lid and pour a double for each of us before handing him a glass. “I am. We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating this money pit finally going under?”

I chuckle at his frankness. I know I’m torturing him and I need to get to the point, but this is a big moment. A first for me. Theatrics are called for. I grab a folder from my briefcase and toss it on Roland’s lap as I take a seat opposite him. I let the bitter burn of my drink swirl around my mouth. I can taste the difference in an aged wine, but when it comes to whiskey, it’s all the same to me. I don’t drink it enough to enjoy it. I bought this bottle merely to make a point to a whiskey drinker like Roland.

He opens the folder and skims the first page. His eyes fall in disappointment. “All the investors are pulling out.” He solemnly shakes his head. “Every single one.”

“No, I’m forcing them out. I pulled all the funding myself. They’ve been reallocated to businesses that are guaranteed to make a return.”

“Well, Lewis,” Roland says, throwing back a hefty swig of his drink with a ‘what the fuck’ flair. “You could’ve called me to tell me that.”

I adjust my frames as my face pulls in annoyance. People who expect the worst, always get it. A healthy level of optimism is necessary in businesses like ours. “Flip to the back.” I nod toward the open manilla folder, encouraging him to look past the first page.

He nearly passes out when he sees the next document.

“That’s an investment plan.Ourinvestment plan. From now on, I’m your only investor and you can stop sweating about returns and margin.” I pull a folded check out of my pocket and hand it to Roland who reluctantly takes it. “And that is for you. Marley got early acceptance into Notre Dame, right?” I whistle under my breath. “You’re going to need it.”

Roland’s daughter boasts the great accomplishment of making it into such a big-name school, but I’ve always had an issue with the cost of education at Ivy Leagues and prestigious schools. Their exclusivity. The most successful entrepreneurs I know, who are sunbathing on their yachts right below their helipads, are proud community college graduates. Even dropouts. The school’s name doesn’t make the man or woman.

“I can’t afford a loan like this,” Roland says as he unfolds the check, put off by the amount.

“It’s not a loan. That’s a personal check from me to you. So you can breathe for a bit and to buy us time. I’m not going to let Rychess fail, but we’re going to have to play the long game and be patient. That check is for the times you feel the pressure. In the moments you want to give up, know that I got you.”

Roland shakes his head as his thick eyebrows furrow so hard, they nearly touch. “What the hell, Lewis? What is this? You only like to gamble with other people’s money. How can you afford this?” He tosses the check on the table between us.

“First of all, it’s not gambling when you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing. And second of all, shut up and take the check. You’re not denting my account.”

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