Chapter 22
My day progresses fast enough with two client calls and pitching various media. After lunch, Adam Harris’s name lights up my phone. I hesitate but answer.
“Hey,” I say lightly.
“I hope you’re not working too hard on a Friday afternoon.”
“Wrapping up.”
“This is business mentor Adam calling, by the way … not the guy whose heart you broke.”
What a drama queen. “Is that last part supposed to make me feel guilty?”
“I’m not calling to talk about that,” he says. “I wanted to check in about Jed. You like working with him?”
Jed is an accountant Adam connected me with when I formed an LLC for my PR agency.
“Yeah, he’s great.”
“Remember to send him your first quarter books next week.”
“It’s on my to-do list,” I say, although I’ve completely neglected my bookkeeping so far this year. Shit.
“Good. The first quarter is almost closed out. How is business? What’s your ARR looking like?”
Adam cannot not be a venture capitalist. Life with him is filled with many industry acronyms and catchphrases like this one.
“Monthly retainers are seventy percent of my current revenue. I have a few contracts ending in June, but I think they will renew.”
Adam’s mentorship has been invaluable. I don’t come from money.
Finding financial security has been top of mind since I turned eighteen.
Money, like how to actually make it and what to do with it once you have it, was never dinner conversation.
Money, on the other hand, is Adam’s favorite thing to talk about …
Well, outside of telling me how he is going to make me come. I giggle at that thought.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m just laughing at this situation. You’re …” I trail off. “I’m grateful for your help.”
“Always, Peanut.”
“I’m not your Peanut,” I remind. Guilt washes over me again. He’s still so in love with me, or at least the idea of me being his perfect little childbearing wife. “So if you blend the rates,” I get the conversation back on track, “my average retainer client is paying five thousand a month for PR.”
“How many people do you have on retainer?”
“Eight. The freelancers and consultants I’ve hired are doing most of the work.”
“That’s a nice jump since the last time we talked … nearly half a million in ARR. I’m proud of you.”
“I didn’t take on all of the clients in January so that number is inflated, but close enough,” I deflect the praise.
“Why are you charging less than the other firms you’re competing against?” he asks, then immediately says, “You should raise your rates.”
“I know. I will.” It’s hard to accept criticism of my business. But I know he’s right.
“How’s your cash flow? Your quarterly tax payment is going to be steep.”
“Pretty healthy, I think … I’ll ask Jed what he thinks about it too.”
“You’re at the point now where I should be welcoming you to the Republican party.”
“Ha, I hate paying taxes, but not as much as I’d hate not having any rights as a woman.”
He laughs. “Also, talk to Jed about establishing a Solo 401K and ask him what he thinks you should be doing now to help you in the future.”
“Got it,” I say with some undeserved sass in my tone. His advice is always right; it’s just hard to not feel defensive when someone tells you what you should be doing with your business.
Taking in my amazing apartment, I begin an awkward conversation. “There’s something that’s been on my mind.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Since we are talking about all of this, I’d like to start paying you rent.”
“No.”
“I’m serious, Adam.”
“Cash flow is the most critical part of keeping a small business alive. The best thing you can be doing with your money is reinvesting it in the business and keeping a healthy amount in reserve.”
My mind swirls with how I can nicely say, “Let me pay my fucking rent.”
“Remember, the rent is my investment in you.”
“I’m not taking on investors,” comes out immediately and is flirtier than anticipated. I instantly feel uneasy about it.
“Keep winning new business like this, and you won’t. Speaking of, is Real-ity signed on yet? You two were talking a lot at my birthday. I’m sure you closed the deal.”
“Gideon isn’t going to work with me.”
“I’ll follow up with him about it.”
“Don’t,” I quickly respond. Please, fucking God, do not follow up with him. I don’t want the two of them talking. Adam can’t know we have already gone on a first date. “There are plenty of fish in the sea. I don’t want to beg for new business.”
“He needs PR,” Adam says firmly. “I’m looking at their mid-year projections. Real-ity isn’t going to hit them unless they do something. Some buzz wouldn’t hurt.”
Conflicts. I’m swimming in conflicts and shouldn’t be hearing this. “Don’t tell me confidential stuff anymore.”
“That’s what our NDA is for.”
Since he’s brought it up, I should re-read that.
I signed a physical agreement after we met back in June and didn’t even think to ask for a copy.
Be smarter, I scold myself. I don’t remember any of the specifics, like when it ends.
Is it still active even though we are no longer together? It can’t be in perpetuity? Can it?
“I miss you,” he whispers.
“Adam …”
“Call me if you need anything.”