Page 71 of Levi
“It’s like you’re betting on the horse that has the best chances of reaching the finish line last. I don’t want you to lose money.”
“Did you already forget what I told you in the warehouse?”
“What if you’re wrong? So far, any attempt at getting a meeting with owners of the boutique gym chains has been an epic fail.”
Doubt and fear roll off her.
I take her hands into mine. “Do you trust me?”
She averts her gaze. “This isn’t Dark Compulsion. This is real life,” she shifts nervously in her seat.
“Eyes on me,” I order.
Her hazel green eyes meet mine. “Do you trust me?” I repeat. “Club or no club.”
She ponders on my question for a beat.
I let go of her hands and make to stand up, but she grabs hold of my wrist.
“Wait,” she says. “I trust you,” she blurts out. “But you’re taking on a huge responsibility—and risk. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
I sit back down. “I’m going to do more homework, but like I said earlier, you’re so close to the finish line.”
She considers me for a long stretch.
“We’re doing this or not?” I press.
“Okay, partner,” she offers a small smile.
“I’ll buy out Hillary, but I want you to hold the majority of shares. I’ll only be a partner at twenty-four percent.”
“That’s not fair!” she protests. “If you’re helping me turn things around and you’re using your own money to buy out Hillary, we should be equal partners.”
I shake my head. “I’m probably going to need another partner. That said, I want to make sure you’re the majority shareholder with fifty-two of the shares.”
“Oh,” she says.
“About this office—”
“I can barely afford it now, it makes absolutely no sense to keep struggling to pay for it now that I’m a one-woman show. That said, I’ll still need a place to store the equipment.”
“Linc and I have numerous warehouses in Culver City, but for insurance purposes, I think it’s best if you rent a separate location—”
“I can’t afford the monthly rent on a warehouse in Culver City,” she protests.
“I’ll rent it for you,partner.”
She doesn’t argue.
“Let’s talk about the house,” I move things along. “You said your father pulled out as much equity as he could to keep the business afloat?”
“That’s correct,” she confirms.
“So once the bank gets what they’re owed, you’ll be splitting whatever’s left with Hillary.”
“I guess so.” Her mood is somber.
“You can’t contest your father’s will,” I remind her.
