I didn’t even bother to look at him. “You have one.”
Despite my distaste for his occasional lack of scruples, he brought tons of money into the business, and I paid him handsomely for it.
“Well, you know you had me looking for movement in the nonprofit sector, especially with the Every Dream, Gotta Dream, whatever foundation. Well, I found something. They are buying a tear-down on the Lower East Side. It’s a remarkable deal, a steal. Some old lady is giving it to them for a song, and we can bust into this and snatch it up. I just need you to sign off on the paperwork to enter negotiations. We’ll get the place for less than a mil. Never happens…”
I looked up from my reports and admitted I was intrigued.
I had asked him to dig around and find out what Kylie was doing with her nonprofit. They had to be either renting, leasing, or buying a building, and I wanted to know where she was getting the collateral, who was giving it to her, and where her base of operations would be.
I was fully aware that my interest in Kylie had veered toward the dangerously obsessive, but no one ever left me. I was the dumper, not the other way around. If I couldn’t snag a moment with her in public under the scrutiny of the press and her posse of female bulldogs, I’d get her at home, where her heart was.
“Who else is bidding on the building? Why are they letting it go for so cheap? Is it on ancient burial grounds or a hidden nuclear testing site?” There had to be a catch.
“The owner and her family are immigrants from Ukraine. They are only offering it to Living Life. Dream … you know, the place you wanted me to research. I think she can be swayed. This is not a public sale. It’s a private transaction that I got a sniff of through some connections. You know as well as I do those hoodlums want to stay in the streets doing drugs, stealing; they’re a bad stock. I’m sure I could get to the family and double what they’d be getting from Kylie Morgan and that bogus NPO of hers.” He was pure evil.
Granted, I had never told anyone I had a personal investment in Kylie Morgan. To Larry and anyone else in my office, my interest in Kylie Morgan wasn’t more than a passing fascination with a media celebrity who was almost on par with me in the fame and intrigue department. I was doing my mandated charity by attending the event where she was a guest speaker as I had to give ten percent of my gross earnings to charity for tax reasons.
“See what you can do, but don’t give away our shirts on this. Get it for a steal if you can.” I hated the taste of my own words.
I had read about Kylie finding a building for her nonprofit in my nightly media stalking. They had secured a building on the Lower East Side and were planning on breaking ground on their center, which would be part housing and part educational, therapeutic, and mentoring space.
“I’m thinking we come in with a mil offer, and I’m sure they’ll cave. We may go as high as one point five, but even for that, the building revenue is fifteen million or more a year. Put some lofts in there or make it a pod hotel, the opportunities are endless. Seriously, the building should be selling for at least twenty mils. This lady who offered it to Kylie Morgan must be insane.” Or extraordinarily generous.
He was ravenous for this sale as he was most opportunities to steal from the needy. I really fought the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, but the whole thing was my idea. I couldn’t fault him for being a ravenous viper.
“Make an offer, but be sure it’s a deal. Avoid doubling down, yet do it if you have to. I want that building.” His face brightened as he listened to me, no doubt envisioning stealing from poor ‘street kids’ he somehow demonized in his small world view. “This is going to be personal. I want the building for myself. Pay cash, I have plenty. This will not be going into the company inventory. I’ll fund it as soon as you assure me the sale will be made. Do it today. I want it done by Friday night.” His eyes widened as the urgency in my voice rose.
“Personal? I don’t mind doing it, but wouldn’t it be wise to keep all of your business ventures under the business umbrella for insurance and tax purposes? You’ll lose your shirt if this enterprise goes under your personal account.” Greedy fucking bastard.
“No, I’m not going to make it an enterprise,” I argued, not wanting to share too many details.