Big Time

Nineteen

Nine months after John had resigned from the firm, his three-month-old business had raised $235 million as a private equity fund to invest in distressed businesses owning commercial property. The investors were an assortment of pension and mutual funds from around the country, a few funds out of London, one from Luxembourg, and two from the Netherlands. With each meeting, he and Rob increasingly delivered their presentation with the synchronicity of an Olympic swimming team, detailing their plans and experience. Rob’s friend organized the raising and shuffled Rob and John from fund manager to fund manager, taking a fee of $4.5 million for the privilege.

Rob took the title of Chairman on a handshake with John that he would work no longer than 10 to five. John assumed he would make the odd exception, like for important dinners with clients or to celebrate the closing of a deal. Incredibly, when informing the firm of his decision, Rob had managed to convince them to contribute $20 million into the fund. Of course a bank that big and sophisticated had imposed conditions: they’d own 10% of the company. But, it meant Rob kept his bonus money tied up in escrow, and they had the bank wire up their I.T. systems, something John nor Rob knew anything about.

All that was signed, sealed, and delivered before they offered their old team jobs. Rob had invited the majority of them over for a celebration dinner at his apartment. Rob’s wife Jill and Barbara joined them, being the only partners present. They ate shrimp and aged steaks and drank fine wines from Rob’s “cellar.” Rob made a toast after the meal, giving John sole billing for the triumph of the capital raising.

“I knew it all along,” Barbara whispered to him and kissed him on the cheek.

John smiled. He felt good: proud of his achievement, hopeful for the future, and for the first time in almost a year could feel his identity coming firmly back. He was about to be someone again. More than just a dreamer; an entrepreneur and a respected provider. Lawyers, accountants, and bankers who hadn’t given him the time of day since leaving the firm would want to know him again. He held her hand tight.

At the end of the night, the group went out on Rob’s balcony. The men lit up cigars while sipping Botrytis dessert wine out of fragile crystal glasses. Life was good.

John began his rehearsed speech: “We’ve spoken to all of you about our plans over the last nine months. We enjoyed great success together as a team and obviously are interested in putting that team back together. Rather than negotiate with all of you as to individual salaries, Rob and I have letters of offers for all of you to take home tonight. We’ve been as generous as we can be, given the size of the fund and limitations of a new business. Instead of cash bonuses, you will be granted non-voting equity in the company. We want to build Ring Side Capital with you.”

John paused for effect. It was every banker’s dream—to own equity in the business and be properly rewarded for the value they added. Rob and John had decided to make it non-voting though so that the two of them retained control, no matter what happened down the track.

“We plan to manage the business around the deals,” John continued. “All of the administrative crap that we’ve put up with at the firm will be gone. If it manages to creep in somehow, then it’s up to all of us to bring it to Rob’s and my attention. We hope this means we can close deals easier and faster and give us all more time on the golf course or the beach down the track, depending on what’s your fancy.”

The team laughed and someone clapped.

“Anyway, you’re welcome to discuss any of the terms of the job offers with us, but we aren’t expecting to negotiate numbers. But let me reiterate how keen we are to have you join us.”

The team gave him a round of applause. All had expressed their dislike working for Thurston over the last nine months and wanted out.

Once the clapping subsided, Rob spoke. “I’d like to make a toast to the vision, entrepreneurship, persistence, and hard work of the new President and CEO of Ring Side Capital. For a man who was about to retire, I for one am excited to be working alongside him and hopefully working with you again too. To John.”

“To John,” the choir sang.

The next morning, John woke with a smile, feeling more content than he had in a long time. He rolled over and put his arm around Barbara. He could tell she was still asleep. He kissed her behind the ear and she murmured. He propped himself up on one arm and brushed her hair out of the way and looked at her as she started rubbing her eyes. She was so cute this time of the morning, unprotected by makeup, business suit, or disheveled by the daily grind. He leant in and kissed her again, this time on the neck. She pulled him in and he spooned her, so the curvature of their spines became one.

“Mmm,” she moaned as John cocooned her in his arms. They lay there in happiness and contentment, much deeper and stronger than they had felt in months—since Mexico. “Your tickling my neck,” Barbara said playfully.

John laughed. “I’m just breathing on you.”

“Oooh, it’s nice,” she said and pulled his arms tight. “Just like your touch is.”

He pulled his arms free and asked, “Like this,” as he tickled her.

She laughed and squirmed. He didn’t relent for a full 10 seconds as she wriggled in laughter, pleasure, and pain. She turned around to face him and they kissed, deeply.

Ring Side Capital signed a lease for office space just big enough to fit 10 open plan desks, a meeting room, and small waiting area, which would greet visitors. As yet, there was no reception desk or receptionist, just a couch, two armchairs, and a magazine rack. They were on the second to top floor of a converted warehouse building. While it was cheap, it was aesthetically presentable. They shared the level with five other companies. One was an Internet company, coined a “dot com” by the Journal. John thought it gave them a bit of cutting edge vibe to be located so close to a company generating so much hype. They were located between Union Square and SoHo, not known for its financial firms. It suited John, as he didn’t want the team running into old colleagues getting lunch each day or a beer after work on a Friday night.

Everyone signed on. Whereas Frank had put his toe in the water about trying to negotiate a higher-base salary, the others simply accepted. Frank accepted too when John made it clear there was no negotiation to be had.

The next week, a small article appeared in the Wall Street Journal. They’d hired a boutique public relations firm that specialized in finance to put together a two-page press release on the fundraising with a small bio on Ring Side Capital and Rob’s and John’s background. Quotes from Rob as chairman and John as chief executive were included. The PR firm then sent it to the Journal, New York Times, and various other papers with a decent business section around the country. The Journal was the only paper that picked it up, but John soon started getting calls from people he didn’t know, most of whom were trying to provide a service: everything from second-rate lawyers and accountants to IT providers, stationers and real estate agents. Even public relations firms who told him they could do a much better job with the press and promised nation-wide coverage. Bizarrely, he also got two emails from random women and a phone call from a high-end escort service—all interested in his money, sight unseen. It reaffirmed his decision to settle down with Barbara.

Despite the promise of better work life balance, John worked minimum 12-hour days Monday to Friday as they established Ring Side Capital and attempted to invest in their first deals. There were always a few nights each week he ate dinner in the office with the team. On those occasions, he would crawl into bed with Barbara, who was either reading in bed or already asleep when he got home.