6. Alina
6
ALINA
I should have done an Internet search the moment Tomas Aguilar left my gym on Saturday, but in my defense, I was pretty flustered. But the moment my alarm goes off at six on Monday morning, I jump out of bed, make myself some coffee, and sit down in front of my laptop to google him.
I doubt I’ll find anything useful; Tomas doesn’t strike me as the sort that spills his heart on social media. But Google comes through. The first result is from the Università Ca’ Foscari. Tomas Aguilar is an Adjunct Professor there, and he teaches an Introduction to Accounting class twice a week on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.
I stare at his picture on the screen and try to reconcile it with the man I met. On the screen, Tomas is smiling, a wide, affable grin that makes him look like the friendliest accounting professor you’d ever meet. The short bio tells me that before moving to Venice five years ago, he taught accounting at the Universitat de València. He has a bachelor’s degree in economics and a master’s degree in accounting from the same school.
He’s Spanish? That explains his faint accent.
I reread his bio, a frown turning my lips down. This doesn’t add up. Adjuncts are not well paid, and Tomas only seems to teach that one class. He’s good at it, though, judging from his flattering reviews, but even so, there’s no way he can afford to buy Simon’s share of my gym on his salary.
Where does the money come from? What’s paying for the fancy suit, the handmade shoes, the expensive watch? Am I being scammed somehow? Is this all an elaborate con?
That’s not the only thing that doesn’t make any sense. Let’s say Tomas is really a lecturer. Where would Simon meet someone like him? It couldn’t have been at the university. I can’t picture my former partner spending time in a place of higher education, not unless it was to chase after pretty, barely legal undergrads.
I’ve never seen Tomas Aguilar before; I’m sure of it. I would remember him. Simon’s never mentioned his name either, which suggests he’s not a friend. Yet he was in the right place at the right time when Simon decided to sell?
Something’s going on here, something fishy.
Shortly after eight, I take the contract to the Legal Aid society. Jon Burke reads it from start to finish, and when he’s done, he leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “So, Simon finally quit. Who is the buyer, this Tomas Aguilar? Someone you know?”
“No, he’s a perfect stranger. What do you think of the contract?”
“It looks legit.”
“No hidden catch? Are you sure? Because I googled Aguilar this morning. He’s an Adjunct Professor at the Ca’ Foscari. How does someone like that have more than a million euros to invest in a gym that’s barely breaking even?”
“Family money?” Jon suggests.
“Or I’m being scammed.”
“How?” my lawyer asks practically. “And for what? Like you said, you’re barely breaking even.”
“But I own the building outright. That’s in my name, not in the gym’s.” Simon hated it, but I stuck to my guns. “Maybe he’s targeting that somehow?”
“Hmm. Well, to answer your question, if there’s a scam here, it’s not in the contract. Everything in here lines up with what they told you. Well, with one exception—the money Signor Aguilar is injecting into the business. In the contract here, it says he’s putting in seventy-five thousand euros, not two-hundred-thousand.”
There it is. “I knew it,” I say grimly. “I knew there was something fishy.”
“It’s marked as provisional,” Jon points out. “It might just be an honest mistake.”
“Since when do you believe that lawyers make honest mistakes?”
“I don’t, but this might be the exception to the rule. This is the clearest legal document I’ve ever read. The lawyer who drafted it is extremely good at their job. If Aguilar is planning on cheating you, this is too obvious.”
I’m unconvinced. “That’s one explanation. The other is that Tomas Aguilar thinks I’m an idiot who will sign a contract without reading it.”
“I’m sensing some hostility, Alina.”
“I’m sick of being jerked around,” I burst out. “First, Simon barely does any work, ignores our contract terms with impunity, and gets away with it every single time. Then he sells to this random guy, completely ignoring the part where he needs to come to me first, and once again, I’m supposed to go along with it. This is my gym, Jon. My sweat and blood. I’m the one who’s there at the crack of dawn every single day. I’m the one teaching all the classes. And somehow, my wishes never seem to matter.”
And Tomas called it a dump.
Jon regards me levelly. “You’re frustrated, and I’m sympathetic,” he says. “But you’re not blameless here. You chose not to take Groff to court to make him live up to his contractual obligations. It would be a mistake to bring those emotions into this new partnership.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a point. “Fair enough,” I mutter sullenly. “Though you could really work on your delivery. There are other lawyers here, by the way. Nicer lawyers.”
Jon chuckles. “You should consult them,” he advises. “See how far niceness gets you in court.”
My phone beeps. I glance at it. “I just got an email from Daniel Rossi,” I tell Jon. “Tomas Aguilar’s lawyer. He says he made a mistake and has attached a revised contract.” I open the attachment and scroll to the relevant section, and sure enough, the seventy-five-thousand-euro amount has been replaced by two hundred thousand.
“In that case, I’m going to recommend you sign the contract. It’s more than fair, Alina. You need a partner who will invest in your gym in a way Groff never did. Judging from this document, I’d say that Tomas Aguilar is your man.”
“Let’s see if the money materializes,” I say grudgingly. “I still think there’s a scam here somewhere. Maybe I should hire a private investigator to investigate this guy.” Okay, fine. I may have read my mother’s entire collection of Perry Mason novels as a child and developed a huge crush on Paul Drake. “How does one go about doing that, anyway?”
“I can give you a name if you’d like.” Jon regards me with a frown on his face. “Or you could just ask Aguilar about his background before you waste your money.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “You’re right again. I’ll ask him, and I’ll even sign the damn document. But Jon, this is a temporary truce. I’m done with partners who don’t pull their own weight.” Tomas is pulling his own weight by putting two hundred thousand euros into the business and taking a significantly reduced share of the profits, but I’m too annoyed to admit it. “How do I get out of this contract? Is there a way to buy Aguilar out?”
“If you can afford it, yes. You can buy his share anytime in the next two weeks for the same price he paid Groff. After that, the cost rises depending on how long he’s been involved. If you wait a year, you’ll have to pay him one-point-three million, a thirty percent return. Section 2.3.2 has the details.”
That’s insane. The man bought a share in an MMA gym, not a tech stock. This is not a business that makes three hundred thousand euros in a year in profit. Not even close. Even if I have a record year, I’m not going to make enough money to buy him out, not unless a miracle happens.
I thank Jon for his time and get to my feet. I need to buy a lottery ticket tonight. The way things are right now, that’s the only way I’m going to get rid of the insufferable and mysterious Tomas Aguilar.