Chapter 23
T he next day, it being a Monday, I decided to treat it like a workday. Without a proper office to go to, I found the nearest coffeehouse and set up my laptop to do work.
First, I went through the contract Morgan had sent me much more carefully.
I trusted my brother, but you could never be too sure with these contracts.
Trust today could just as easily turn into disdain and disgust tomorrow; even if I loved him now, emotions and feelings could change—as Layla had proved.
A contract, however, was largely immutable and not subject to human emotions.
Fortunately, everything looked good. I thought of every worst-case scenario, from lawsuits to deaths to hostile takeovers and everything in between, and I could not find a way that Morgan might screw me over.
For once in my life, it seemed as if I had not gotten taken advantage of or set up by someone else.
As soon as everything looked good, I signed it electronically and sent it back to Morgan.
Next, I looked in my next email, a potential lead from Morgan.
“Friend of mine looking to receive $250k for 10 percent of the company. Will help her hire a developer team. Number is 212-555-5555. Reach out to her as soon as you can—she’s a star, will have multiple competitors, but we have an in being her friend.”
Right off the bat and we’re going at it, huh? I didn’t even think Morgan had registered Morgan and Chance Holdings yet; we sure as hell didn’t even have a logo or emails yet. This was truly building a space shuttle while the rocket fuel began to ignite beneath us.
I liked it, though. I didn’t even have any time off from quitting Burnson Investments and I already had much higher-level work just the following Monday. No time to waste, I thought as I picked up my phone. I dialed the number and waited for an answer.
“Hello?”
Oh, she’s got a nice voice.
Chance! This is business. Need I remind you what happened the last time you mixed business and pleasure?
“Hi, is this Claire McLendon?”
“Yes, who am I speaking with?”
Direct and to the point. It’s going to be hard to do something stupid when someone is this to the point and professional.
“Hi Claire, my name is Chance… er, Hunt, and I’m Morgan’s younger brother.”
“Oh!” she said, her voice immediately levitating, albeit returning to normal with her next words. “And how can I help you today, Chance?”
“I understand that you are looking for outside investors to help grow your business, Rising Sun. Morgan and I have just started an… investment firm.”
It sounds better than acquisitions. We’ll build our way to the top and then we can call ourselves an acquisition firm.
“We would love the opportunity to invest in Rising Sun and help grow your business from the ground up.”
“Interesting,” Claire said. “Morgan did mention something to this effect the other day. Tell you what. I’m supposed to be interviewing multiple investors later this afternoon, but as a favor to Morgan, if you come over now, I can get this done. My address is 44 East 22nd Street.”
“Done,” I said.
“Great,” she said, and then, without another word, she hung up.
It was… it was definitely abrupt, even by New York standards. Goodbye was a word than many New Yorkers didn’t know existed, or if they did, it was often muttered as a throwaway for people who might have valued it more. I didn’t even get that from Claire.
But hey, business was business, and she was now supplying that to me in a way that I had not gotten yet.
I had a chance to atone for what had happened with Layla Taylor.
I swore to myself that even if Claire looked like Jennifer Lopez or Jennifer Aniston, I would not so much as compliment her watch.
I would treat this as a professional meeting and nothing more.
I closed my laptop, pulled up my phone, and mapped the directions. I would need to take a couple of trains over, but the whole trip wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes. I could be there before 9 a.m. I could start my business investment career before many people on the West Coast had even woken up.
Huh, I guess maybe I do owe you some thanks, Morgan, I thought with a sly grin.
On the walk over, I began to research Rising Sun as much as I could.
The company, which worked in virtual reality for patients who needed to reconnect with nature, had already gotten some press and signed some contracts with hardware VR distributors, seemed to be on the up and up.
Though only two years older than Morgan and I, Claire McLendon had graduated from Columbia at the age of 20 and had started the business just two years after working in Morgan Stanley.
To say that she would be successful someday was an extraordinary understatement. If Morgan had an entire network of people like this, then there was absolutely no reason we couldn’t also be successful with investments and acquisitions.
I didn’t want to say this out loud, but it also helped that Claire was not some incredibly sexually attractive woman.
She was cute, took care of herself, and pretty, but she was not so overwhelmingly gorgeous that I would not be able to control myself.
She was exactly what I needed for my first business deal recovering from the horrible mistake with Layla.
I didn’t want to say it too loudly, but I was beginning to think maybe things were looking up. Morgan had found quite the opportunity.
In fact, I almost began to wonder if he would have proposed this to me even if all the bullshit of the last couple of weeks had not happened. It seemed too good of a chance for me not to jump at.
So, strangely, maybe getting fucked over as I had was the best thing that could have happened to me.
I just wished it hadn’t caused so much emotional turmoil and heartache.
And I also wished that if I could have some business success, maybe I could have some peace of mind and a strong relationship someday.
Someday.
I came out of the station and found the address.
It looked like a typical, tiny NYC office—it was at the bottom of some stairs, looking like a former apartment that had been repurposed into an office.
Three people were in the open, typing away and staring at their screens, while in the back, an open door led the way to the person I presumed was Claire.
“Hi,” a man in his mid-20’s who looked like one of the computer programmers said. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Chance Hunt, and I’m here to meet Claire McLendon?”
As if on cue, Claire stood in the doorway of her office, beckoning me in.
Admittedly, she was cuter than the photos had shown—as weird as it was for someone who was just 24 years old, she had aged well, looking much more mature and together than the college photos the news releases had cobbled together.
She wore a black suit, a white button down, and pants, but her long, curly red hair and her polite smile suggested someone more akin to a southern belle.
“How are you?” she said.
Her voice sounded much nicer than it had on the phone. I began to suspect that she might be charming me with her kindness to procure proper deals of an investment, but at least now I was aware of it and wouldn’t fall for it like I had with Layla. Plus, two could play that game.
“I’m great, now that I’m here,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, you are too kind, come on,” she said, quickly shifting from sweet to focused as she closed the door behind us. “Have a seat.”
I sat in a rather outdated and uncomfortable chair, which I suppose made sense.
Claire had apparently had some seed money, but otherwise, she was looking to save as much money as she could.
She would give chairs to her employees, but not to guests who wouldn’t be visiting for more than an hour or so.
“So, what’s your pitch?”
Boy, direct and to the point, huh.
“I guess you want to get right down to it, huh?” I said, cracking a smile.
Claire smiled, but only out of politeness. She was not a time waster—it was easy to see why she was going to be so successful.
“You know our last name is Hunt. We have the kinds of connections that can get you with anyone in a matter of days, if not hours. Our funds are practically limitless—Morgan and I are doing this because we want the ground floor experience, but as you grow, we can get you access to Hunt Industries.”
Left unsaid, of course, was that we were going to use Rising Sun’s growth to take the place of Hunt Industries. It probably wasn’t a closely guarded secret, but it was the plan nevertheless.
“You have two very smart people in Morgan and me who can help you with any strategy you want. We will, admittedly, take a hands-off role after the investing, but you can always turn to us if you’d like.”
That was not something Morgan and I had discussed, but I felt it was important to be honest in clear defiance of what Edwin Hunt liked to preach.
I would not be spreading lies or telling bullshit that would make a deal happen, only to vanish at the first sign of anything that wouldn’t make me or Morgan money.
We wanted to invest not just our finances into any business we invested in or acquired.
“I see,” Claire said. “It’s working in your favor that we are not just looking for one partner.
If that were the case, then we would probably go for someone more experienced, but I have always liked Morgan and, by extension, you.
Morgan is diligent, and I know you are much of the same, no matter what the rumors may say. ”
“Rumors?”
I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps I should not have had this topic of conversation here, but I truly didn’t give a shit.
If this was going to torpedo the deal but could give me invaluable information for future cases, better to fuck up now and learn more as I went on than to be hamstrung continuously by guessing games in the future.
“Weren’t you just at Burnson Investments?” she said.
She must have done her homework too.
“I was,” I said. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth—that would have scared myself off, let alone a friend of Morgan’s. But I had to tell some truth. “But deception and arrogance were par for the course there. That, and I felt my talents were not being put to full use.”
Technically true. It’s not the full story, but it is true enough.
“I appreciate the lessons I learned, but when Morgan and I came up with this idea of starting our company, it was a no brainer. And he can’t just leave his father’s company, at least not for some time.”
“Understandable enough,” Claire said. “So you’re the messenger.”
Harsh. And… a little true but…
“I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “I’m more of a COO who is seeking to start operations.”
Claire seemed to stare me down for the longest time, and I have to say, for someone so young and not of amazing attraction, she left me feeling very unnerved—not necessarily in a bad way.
She had to do her due diligence on us Hunts, and for her not to do this would have shown poor leadership on her part.
Still, the extent to which she did this made me realize what I’d gotten with the Taylors was, in a weird way, almost easy. Most people didn’t keel over like that.
But then again, maybe this was a sign I wouldn’t get trolled and made a fool as I had before.
“You know, I made a promise to Morgan that I’d let him invest in us if I ever needed it,” she said. “Fortunately, I also know you two aren’t full of it. You’re new and such, but I see enough.”
She stood up, as if announcing the meeting was over.
“Let Morgan know we have a handshake agreement in place. We’ll figure out the details, but we’ll go with what Morgan had said before when he spoke to me Saturday morning—$250,000 for ten percent.”
“Done,” I said, extending my hand.
“Have a great day, Chance,” she said, ushering me out so quickly it almost felt like I’d gotten rejected, not accepted.
Morgan wasn’t kidding or fucking around, it seemed. He really, desperately, truly wanted to get out of the family business—so quickly, in fact, that he’d already hammered out a deal with Claire on Saturday, she just wanted to see me face to face.
This, in turn, made me wonder if Morgan had given me something of an easy slam dunk to work with.
Despite Claire’s cold stare, despite her probing questions, despite her hints at knowing what had happened, she was also surprisingly quick to decide to work with us.
Maybe that was in keeping with her character.
In any case, though, things finally looked up—we had our first deal. I didn’t need any damn leader or connection to Edwin Hunt to make it happen.
I emailed Morgan the good news. By the time I got to my apartment, he’d already written back.
“Congrats. No resting on our laurels. Got another lead, and it’s much bigger—$5 million for 10 percent.”
It’s nearly like the Taylors all over again.
Good.
Redemption.