“Truth is, we hear good things about you and your partner. What’s your fund called again? FMFL?”
“FLFM,” I say. “But close enough.”
Dee laughs. “There’s a show I like, this Japanese cartoon. Called FLCL. Fooly Cooly. Good stuff.”
Carmine grins at me. “He’s young, Mr. Lofthouse. Please excuse my associate. He’s not used to business meetings. That right, Dee?”
“Ah, come on. Plenty of meetings around here” Dee laughs.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to make of these guys. I’m used to high-end businesses or wealthy individuals, but these two don’t really seem like either. They might have some money, considering their clothes. But their mannerisms suggest they’re something I’ve never encountered before. Still, Darin sent me to them, so they must be legitimate to get his attention.
“Well, here. Let’s start with this.” I take out some simple pamphlets I had made with the highlights. “You can get a sense of our financial standing based on these numbers. We can’t guarantee any sort of return, and any fund that does is ripping you off. But I can show you what we’ve been able to do over the years compared with the industry as a whole and certain competitors in particular.”
Both men look at the literature and look bored as I go through my little routine. I tell them about how we stack up against everyone else, how we bring in more money and do it with more stability, even in unstable times. When I finish, both men have glazed-over looks.
“So, okay, what you’re saying is, we can make money with you?” Dee asks.
“Of course that’s what he’s saying,” Carmine snaps. “What else would he say?”
“I’m just sayin’.” Dee shrugs a little.
“What I’m saying, gentlemen, is that we have a proven track record. Our fees are competitive and lower in some cases. Our returns are competitive or better in some cases. But what you really get with us is stability. We don’t do big losses. We don’t do big swings. You’ll have a single manager that will make sure your money is growing.”
“I like that,” Carmine says. “Steady. Easy.”
“The personal touch,” Dee adds.
“Exactly. Listen, we’re opening a new branch out here. This is your chance to get in on something brand new before anyone else does. It’ll get your foot in the door, get you a little extra attention.”
“All right, all right,” Carmine says. “I got him. Do you got him, Dee?”
“I got him.” Dee takes out a checkbook. “We want to invest with you.”
I look at the checkbook and laugh. “That’s great, that really is. But you don’t need to write me a check here and now. Ah, it would be better if we got your account set up. There’s some paperwork involved, and then we can—”
Both men look at each other. I can tell I said something off, so I stop myself. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Here’s the thing,” Carmine says. “Your partner, Darin. He said there wouldn’t be any paper trail. You know, nothing to suggest that we’re involved with you guys. I mean, not that there’s anything questionable, but we’re very private men.”
“Very private,” Dee adds.
“We don’t like being in paperwork. We don’t like being anywhere. We want to give you money, a lot of money. Pay your fees. Help us grow.”
“Grow a lot.” Dee grins.
“I’m sorry, we have to do some basic reporting to governing bodies and—”
“Maybe we should speak with Darin,” Carmine says.
Dee gives me a flat stare.
I look back at them, shocked. I don’t know what to say. In all my time in the financial industry, I’ve never had someone say something like that to me before. They want me to hide the fact that they’re my clients and still invest their money. I’m not sure about the legality of that in terms of SEC filings, but at the very least, we need some paperwork on them for HR reasons.
I shake my head and gather my things. “Maybe you should,” I say. “I’m sorry we came to this, gentlemen. Whatever Darin promised, I wasn’t briefed on it.”
“Get yourself briefed,” Carmine says, face deadpan. He doesn’t look happy. All smiles are gone.
I get up. They don’t move at all, just stare at me.
“I’ll speak with Darin. I hope we can work this business out.”
They nod. I slip past and leave as fast as I can.
My phone’s in my hand not ten seconds after stepping out of that place. I find a dry overhang to stand under and call Darin. He answers right away.
“How’d it go?” he asks, sounding chipper. It must be just about six in the morning in California, but that’s Darin, always up and always ready.
“Did you send me to a meeting with fucking mobsters?”
“Whoa,” he says. “What the hell, man? Don’t say that.”
“Darin. Who the fuck are you doing business with?”
“Maybe we should—”
“No. We should talk here and now.”