At the start of the semester, Professor Hunt told her students she’d have a hands-off approach with our businesses. Despite her vow, her fingerprints were everywhere at the closing. I assumed we’d do it at the pizzeria, but she wanted it on her turf, in the business school, during a session of the Build a Business seminar. Her attorney hammered out not one but two contracts. The first, and most important, was the purchase agreement with Mr. Bartley. The second was a single-page agreement between me and the landlord stipulating that if I made all my payments over the next five months, he’d sign over the remainder of the five-year lease. Professor Hunt expensed all the legal costs to her research budget, which seemed like a stretch. Still, she claimed it was legitimate since she intended to document my experience in an upcoming article. Half the business department professors showed up for the closing, along with two reporters from the school paper, one from the local town paper, and one from the college radio station.
I kept thinking back to Marques’s comment about Artemis having as much to gain as I did. She wasn’t interested in some quiet handover—she wanted the world to know about it. Even so, she edged over to me just before it was set to begin. “You don’t have to go through with this, you know.”
Yeah right. Like I was going to back out in front of my classmates, professors, and Hunt’s media circus. “No, I want to do it.”
Mr. Bartley was all smiles for the cameras, but couldn’t have been happy about dumping his failed business for a buck. The landlord tucked himself into a corner and seemed eager to sign quickly and bolt. Unfortunately for both of them, they were in Professor Hunt’s classroom, and class was in session.
“In the third month of the seminar, we’ll examine different types of business acquisitions. Today, we have a real treat. We get to witness one of our own purchasing a distressed business.” She was putting on a show for the reporters and other business department faculty. “Who can tell me what a distressed business is? Yes, Meg.”
“A distressed business is one that struggles to meet its financial obligations.” Why did she always sound so encyclopedic? “It might be in default on payments, in bankruptcy, or even just leaking cash.”
Mr. Bartley cringed.
“Correct. In this case, the business is failing to make a profit. The owner had already decided to shut down and cut his losses. So why would anyone want to buy a business in such a state?” The professor scanned the room. “I see you, Meg, but let’s give someone else a chance. Jenna, you’re being awfully quiet back there. What do you think?”
“Well…” Jenna pushed her blond hair behind her ear. The camera was making her nervous. “Maybe the business has assets you could buy for cheap.”
“That’s one reason. Any others? Yes, Lisa.”
“Setting up a business is expensive and time-consuming. Buying an existing one can be a shortcut.”
“Exactly. A new owner can acquire an existing business for a fraction of what it would cost to start one from scratch. In this case, Tyler Spengler is buying The Leaning Tower of Pizza for the highly discounted price of one dollar.”
The gasps around the room told me Professor Hunt had kept the amount secret. One of the reporters started taking pictures.
“I’ll give you $10 right now,” Owen called out.
Even Mr. Bartley managed a laugh, but it was forced. I felt sorry for him. Losing your business was humiliating enough without having your failure broadcast to the world.
While the press coverage would bring a few more people in the door, I’d rather we handled the closing quietly. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. This was the tradeoff Marques had prepared me for. I’d get a business for practically nothing and a shot at a real income stream while in college. Artemis would get her publicity, boost her enrollment, and increase her chances of tenure. Even Mr. Bartley was coming out ahead, potentially reducing his losses by tens of thousands of dollars. So if we were all winners, why did it feel so icky?
I opened my eyes to see three cameras pointed right at me. My stomach jumped into my chest.
Then I saw Brittney. She’d snuck into the back of the classroom. She gave a small wave and blew me a kiss. My nerves calmed.
Alright. I’ll play my part in the circus. I grinned for the reporters. After all, if business wasn’t part showbiz, we wouldn’t have actresses hawking deodorant and flea collars.
Brittney and I walked from the closing to the Leaning Tower.
“Look at you.” She squeezed my hand. “Mr. Big Man on campus!”
I couldn’t help but blush. “Don’t go counting chickens. Right now, I’m just the business ignoramus with 15 minutes of fame.”
“Seriously, Ty.” Brittney stopped in her tracks to face me. “I’m proud of you. This is a pretty bold move for a college student.”
Could my cheeks get any redder? “Not as bold as dropping out of Harvard to start Microsoft…”
“Now you’re thinking. Putting yourself in the same ballpark as Bill Gates.” She kissed my cheek. “Come on. Let’s go visit your restaurant.”
“A dollar?” Carrie screamed as we entered the pizzeria. The shop wasn’t yet open for the day, but word had clearly spread among the staff. “You bought it for a dollar? You son of a bitch.” She threw a ball of dough at me.
Brittney shrank back.
“Look, Carrie, it’s not like I intended…”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? I would have given you fifty cents for half.”
“Uh, I’ve got homework to do.” Brittney gave me another peck on the cheek. “See you later, Ty.” She slipped out to leave me facing Carrie’s wrath alone.
“Hell, I outrank you. How did you steal this out from under me?”
“Steal it?” It was easier to find my voice with Brittney gone. “And were you really ready to buy a business that’s losing money?”
“Can’t be too bad if you’re willing to do it.” She practically spat the words out.
It took all my effort to keep my cool. I couldn’t afford to lose Carrie. “And what would you do when you graduate at the end of the semester? Stay on campus and run your pizza shop?”
“Is that what you’re planning on doing?”
“I’ve got three years left in this town. That is, if I can still afford tuition after buying this dump.” I wiped the dough off my shirt. “I’ve got no plan other than turning this place around.”
“Well, good luck with that. Be sure to email me and let me know how it goes.” She balled up her apron and slammed it onto the counter. “Or, you know what, don’t even bother. I’ll just read about it in The Campus Connection.”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been afraid this deal would fall apart until the last minute.” My voice softened. “But please don’t leave.”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t?”
“I need you, Carrie.” I clasped my hands in a prayer posture. “You’ve worked here since day one. You probably know more about running this place than Mr. Bartley.”
“Isn’t it funny how you need me, but you get all the upside?”
“You didn’t object when Mr. Bartley got it.”
Carrie crossed her arms. “He knew how to run a pizzeria, didn’t he?”
“It sure doesn’t seem like it, given he was about to close it down.”
“Whatever.” She leaned across the counter. “I’m not about to go to work for someone I trained and watch while he makes all the profits.”
I took three deep breaths before responding. “So what do you want?”
“Here’s a quarter.” She slapped one down on the counter. “Sell me 25% of the business.”
I needed Carrie on board. And having her as a partner would spread the risk. It could also lower my labor costs, since she might add hours without more pay, just as I planned to. But was it worth parting with 25% of my business forever? Especially to someone about to skip town? “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
“Then I want a raise. An additional $5 an hour. I’ve been the de facto manager around here since the beginning. I want the title to become official, with a salary to match.”
“Carrie, don’t you get that we’re losing money? If you want the manager title, it’s all yours, but the last thing I can afford is a raise.” I shook my head. “I’m not even sure how I’ll pay myself.”
“So you tell me. What can you do to make it worth my while to stick around?”
What could I do? I bit my lip and thought hard. She started drumming her fingers on the counter.
“How about this,” I said. “Anytime we have a profitable month, I’ll give you…” How much could I afford? Since I was parting with money I didn’t actually have, I could be generous. “Anytime we have a profitable month, I’ll give you 25% of the profits as a bonus. So you’ll be almost like a 25% partner, except only until you graduate and ditch town, and with none of the risk or downside.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Define profits.”
“What do you mean? Everyone knows what profits are. They’re the amount of money a business makes.”
“I know the definition, stupid. But I also know that profits are…what’s the word? Oh yeah. Fungible. You could pay yourself more, and suddenly there are no profits left on the books.”
“I see what you’re saying. I do have to pay myself something for all the time I’ll put in. So let’s say we’ll both get the same hourly wage, and anything left after that will go to profits. OK?”
“What if you can’t afford to pay yourself one month? Then the next month there’s extra cash. Do you get to pay yourself back for unpaid wages first?”
“Of course. I would do the same for you.”
“I suppose. But there are other ways of losing profits. You could choose to pay down debts a bit faster or buy a piece of equipment, and poof, there are no more profits.”
“New equipment will come out of my share. The same with accelerating debts. But the regular debt payments already on the books, like paying our suppliers, will come before distributing profits. The same with saving up for the security deposit I’ll owe when I take over the lease. That will come before profits. Deal?”
“The security deposit is your money. It’s just deposited with the landlord. That should come out of your share.”
That last request had been a reach. “Fine, I’ll put the security deposit on my end.”
“And given how far this place is from making money, I want 50%.”
Considering how far we were from profitability and how little time Carrie had left until graduation, I didn’t have much to lose. “Fine. 50% of the profits. We have a deal?” I stuck out a hand.
“You’ve got a deal.” Carrie ignored the hand, came around the counter, and pulled me into a hug. “Sorry I yelled at you. This whole thing just took me by surprise.”
“I know. It did the same to me. Don’t tell anyone this, but I think I’m in way over my head.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“I think you’re in way, way over your head.” Carrie laughed.
“Thanks. All the same, I’m glad you’ll be sticking around. There’s already so much change. Replacing you would have been a nightmare.”
She let go and took a step back. “Having me around might be even worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, now that I’m manager, I’m not going to take any crap. Mr. Bartley never should have opened a pizzeria. He didn’t know how to drive customers in the door, and he sucked at managing staff. You’re even more clueless, but I’m not standing by quietly to watch you flail. You may be my boss on paper, but if I’m going to manage this place, you’re giving me everything I need to succeed. Especially if you’re tying my salary to your success. So while you’re on this floor, you’re answering to me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I offered her my best military salute and couldn’t help but grin. This was what I needed, a strong second-in-command who could deliver. “What’s the first thing you need?”
“Toppings. The doors open in half an hour. Better get chopping. Start with the onions. It’ll do me good to see you shed a few tears after all the stress you gave me today.”
Around campus, my apartment building, with its broken elevators and peeling paint, was known as the Shanty. Normally, after my shifts, I brought home whatever slices were left from the staff pies to share with my roommates. But this time, I strutted into my dingy apartment carrying not one soggy, half-eaten pizza, but two hot pies.
“Is that pepperoni I smell?” Ted asked. His head popped up from his chemistry textbook. “My brain could use some fuel.”
Johnny patted me on the back and grabbed a box. “That’s not just pepperoni. It’s steaming! And there are two of them.” He opened the box and took a long whiff. “Ty, you make these just for us?”
“Yup.” I stood a little taller. “What’s the point of owning a pizzeria if I don’t get any fringe benefits?”
“Totally with you, bro.” Ted reached for a slice. “You gonna bring them for us every night?”
“If the numbers keep going up,” I said.
Johnny bit into a piece and, with cheese still stretching from his lips, asked, “How many pies did you sell today?”
“86!” My grin was so big, I was practically squinting.
“Is that, like, good?” Ted asked.
“It’s a huge improvement. Over twice what we sold yesterday, and close to the 100 pies a day Bartley said we needed.”
“So you just gotta keep being the featured story in The Campus Connection and WCAM,” Ted said, “and you’ll be rollin’ in dough.”
“It’s no joke, Ted,” Johnny said. “Ty’s one of us. He’s not just some townie bozo.” He pointed his slice at me. “I bet everyone on campus would rather support you than the competition.”
Ted held up his slice. “Here’s to our B.M.O.C. — Business Man on Campus.”
Johnny smashed his slice into Ted’s. “Hear, hear!”
I grabbed a slice and joined them in the toast.
Just then, someone knocked, and I opened the door for Brittney. I’d texted her when my shift ended.
“You sold 86 pies!” Brittney wrapped her arms around me.
I whispered in her ear, “That’s not the only thing,” and opened the other box.
Brittney squealed. “You made an everything pizza?” She carefully lifted a slice onto a plate.
“Oooh, all civilized!” Ted said.
Brittney rolled her eyes. “No wonder none of my sorority sisters will even look at you! You’re practically Neanderthal!”
Ted belched to prove her point.
Brittney pointed to Johnny. “You, on the other hand, are somewhat tolerable. You know, Amy broke up with Dan last week. Why don’t you ask her to Homecoming? You two could double with me and Ty.”
“Could do,” Johnny said, but I knew he, like me, was perpetually short on cash.
Brittney wasn’t expecting to take a limo to the Homecoming formal like some of her sorority sisters. We’d take her car, since I didn’t have one. But she still expected me to spring for the tickets, which I kept putting off. Money had been tight, but hopefully it wouldn’t stay that way long.
