Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 133886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Good. I wanted to cut through the assistant game and schedule some time with you in the next day or two. I have something I want you to see.” Intrigued, Greer shifted into neutral and pressed his foot fully on the brake, staying at the end of the driveway, letting his car idle. He reached for his cell phone to pull up his calendar.
“Sure. What’re we talking about?” Greer flipped through his screens, searching for his calendar app.
“I’ve come across an investment opportunity that I want to put in front of you. It’s a local business called BikeBro. Have you heard of ’em?”
Greer barely got the app open when he forgot about his cell phone altogether and stared out his front windshield. This was all too big of a coincidence.
“I have. I just had a workout with them less than fifteen minutes ago. I met one of the owners last night,” he explained and looked around his car, waiting for the Punk’d guys to pop out. When they didn’t, he added, “What’re you suggesting?”
“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure. You and I need a face to face. I’m interested in investing in them, but I can’t take on anything more by myself. Wilder’s exploding. I have time restrictions, and they need help,” Dylan said.
“Yeah?” Greer asked, still not certain this wasn’t some sort of big joke.
“Yeah. I like the product. I like the brother team. They’re young, fresh, and focused. They need cash and they’re overextended. They might have to pull the plug before they ever get truly started.”
Okay. Dylan’s explanation proved he did in fact know about BikeBro. The cogs in Greer’s head finally fired-up and started turning. He wasn’t quite ready to tell Dylan that he’d gotten an up-close look at the brothers’ corporate office, shipping facility, and warehouse—all inside their tiny apartment. He wanted to know more of what Dylan had learned.
“How’s their production?”
“They need guidance. An advisor and consultant. Help with all aspects of their business, but they’re ripe, eager, and open to any help. They have big dreams. Tristan wants to buy the product and we can. It just all seems so personal… I don’t know. I like these young men,” Dylan said, thoughtfully.
Yeah, on a first impression level, Greer liked them too. “You know, there’s no personal in business.” Greer lifted his phone again, searching his schedule as Dylan chuckled.
“Except everything in life is personal.”
“Well, I’m fascinated with the product and got a glimpse of their operation. They won’t sustain much longer without some help—both financial and managerial. Where are you now?” Greer had managed to clear a couple of hours when he spontaneously came home to see for himself what kind of condition Dallas was in this morning, and whether he would show for his scheduled class. Seemed meeting Dylan now was as good a time as any.
“I’m actually standing on the front porch of your office. I like what you’ve done with the place.” So those were real birds chirping in the background and not some piped in nature background noise.
“I’m about ten minutes away. Stay there. I’ve got a few ideas.” Greer tossed the phone in the passenger side seat and worked the clutch, reversing out into the street.
“Will do.” Dylan disconnected the call.
Greer fully understood his choice to break some of his firm rules. When dealing with business, he generally liked to stay in his lane. His firm invested in environmentally friendly for-profit businesses. He believed philanthropy was the only hope to make the world a better place.
But his true interest in BikeBro couldn’t be called anything more than personal. Dallas had left his mark on Greer last night. He represented something deeper than obsession for Greer and had more meaning.
Greer took the curve out of his neighborhood, intrigued as hell at the prospect that had fallen into his lap.
Chapter 11
Greer tucked a pillow between him and the headboard of his bed, resting back with the laptop on his thighs. A Texas-size thunderstorm wreaked havoc outside, the wind whipping, tree branches scraping wildly against the side of his house. The forecasted cold front fought for weather dominance over the unseasonably warm temperatures. The storm was anticipated for the last several hours. He liked the cozy feel of being forced home under the bed covers with the low volume of the television keeping him company, and a nice bottle of white wine by his bedside.
He was surprised to learn network television was still a thing. He let it play in the background as he worked on the new BikeBro deal. He and Dylan had jotted down a shortlist of potential investors, understanding this was to be done outside of Greer’s normal book of business. In a what the hell moment, they’d spent the afternoon together, creating a proposal for BikeBro and made preliminary calls to their potential investors, ticking off their list one by one. Together, they’d had the magic touch—everyone wanted in.