Chapter 4: Friends, Part 4, Seven Years Ago

James

We stroll in through the front entrance of a large sports and leisure centre. The entrance lobby is heaving with people.

"Just one sec," says Michael. "I'll do a quick check that I'm not needed anywhere." He walks across to a door signed 'Private. Staff Only', sticks his head through and after a few seconds returns. "Nope, everything's fine."

He looks around at the mass of people around us. "It's late night opening tonight, being Friday, but the doors will be closing in half an hour. Do you feel like a sauna first? The pool will be a lot pleasanter when the crowds have moved on."

"Good idea."

"The changing rooms are over there," he points. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

In the changing rooms, I strip to a towel and am looking around for the saunas when Michael reappears with a couple of cans. "Nothing better than a cold beer with hot steam," he grins. "One of Scandinavia's great contributions to civilisation."

The sauna's real, with hot coals and a water bucket with a ladle. And as the steam hisses and splutters, the cold beer slides down like the proverbial nectar.

"This is your business then?" I ask. "You own it?"

"Well, kind of," he shrugs, then smiles disarmingly. "I look after it for the bank. You know how it is.…"

"Of course; still you look to be doing okay. It's pretty crowded out there."

He becomes more animated. "I get plenty of custom, plain footfall past the door and signed up clients, gym memberships and suchlike. I've put in a lot of work, but," he shrugs, "I'd really like to expand. The building next door is for sale, but you know how it is getting finance from the banks these days."

"Oh, yes. I know about that too."

I look around at the throng of customers: young men, working out and displaying tribal tattoos down their calves, skinny kids in swimming costumes, teenage girls showing off sprouting figures and middle-aged women trying to slim down over-blown bodies.

Is he this busy all the time?

And he can't get finance?

*****

We sit across from each other over a vinyl-topped cafe table, with a coffee apiece, looking down over a swimming pool.

"So, um...." starts Michael, "Have you done that before?"

I pause to choose my words, then settle for keeping it simple. "Which part?"

"The 'sharing' part. I can see perfectly well that you've had plenty of practice at the rest of it."

I suck in a smile. "In fact, no I haven't."

"Mmm." He swirls his coffee around the cup. "Feel like doing it again sometime?"

"Yes, I rather think I do."

"Mmm." The coffee gets another swirl, then, "I can see what you enjoy, the whole Dom thing, and why you would enjoy it. But it always amazes me that they like it, the women."

"Not all do, but I don't get many complaints." Now I swirl my coffee. "And what do you like?"

He grins. "Women."

I snort a laugh. "Yeah, I get that."

"So, what brings you to the City?" he asks. "You said you don't live here? You just visit? Are you a travelling salesman or something?"

"Not exactly. I'm a consultant engineer. There's a huge project coming up here in a few years' time, the City renovation. I'm trying to get my foot in the door early."

"And how do you do that?"

"By making myself useful and available. When they start putting out tenders for the work, I want them to think of my name. It's a long shot, and it's long-term; it could take years, but if it works, the payoff will be huge."

"Good luck to you then." He tips his coffee at me in a small toast.

"Thanks. So, tell me about this expansion you want to do?"

He stares ruefully into his plastic cup. "Like I said, the building next door's up for sale. If I bought it, I could open extra facilities; squash courts, extra halls for training classes, you know to sort of thing, yoga, dancing, even some of the cosmetic stuff; hairdressers, nail extensions, beauticians.... All the luxury extras that people blow their spare cash on. There's a big demand in the area for space and facilities, but I can't meet that demand. I'm forever getting inquiries about using the facilities I've already got from clubs and schools, sometimes even the big hotels who want to offer a package to their guests. It's only a matter of time before someone else comes along and sets up as competition, then I'll have lost the chance."

Here we go....

"As it happens, I've got some cash lying around that's earning nothing where it is. If you're interested in having an investor, we could talk about it."

He looks at me over his mug, his expression flat. "James, I'm not talking about a few hundred or even a few thousand. Have you seen the price of property around here?"

"Yes, I have. I've occasionally looked at buying an apartment in the City, given my long-term plans, so I have a very good idea of how much you're talking about."

He stares at me. "And that's the kind of cash you've got 'lying around'?"

"It's supposed to be my pension, but it's doing fuck-all in the fund it's in. And I'm not planning on retiring anytime soon. I enjoy what I do far too much."

"Right.... Gotcha...." He sucks in his cheeks, thinking.

"Let me put it this way," I say. "If I put up the cash to buy the building, can you afford to fit it out?"

"Oh, yes. That's no problem at all. I've got a lot of stuff in the basement that I've picked up from auctions and bankrupt stock over the years; equipment, fittings, furnishings...."

"Waiting for better times?"

"Exactly. The building work's minimal and it's already got decent electrics and plumbing. It's a refitting job, not a complete refurb."

"Do you have audited accounts for your business to date? Projections? Costs? Business plan?"

"Of course I have. Um.... do you want to talk about this now? Or have something to eat and we'll do it back at mine?"

As I look around, several pairs of staff eyes are watching us. "Yes, I think somewhere more private would be a good idea."

*****

Back at Michael's apartment he turns the key and waves me in. "Make yourself at home," he says. "Sorry it's a bit small, but there's only me and I like it that way."

"No visiting girlfriends?"

He sniffs. "Just the family occasionally. I like to keep my strings untied, and the apartment not looking as though I'm trying to invite anyone into my life. I use the clubs and keep it.... informal."

We send out for takeaway. I leave Michael to tap at a keyboard, bringing up his accounts while I pay the delivery boy. Returning, I find him 'Hmmming' over the screen. "It's up to date to the end of last month," he says. "You know your way around the software?"

I take a quick look at the screen. "Yup, I use it myself for my own book-keeping."

He waves me onto the chair. "Help yourself then. If you want to query anything, I'll be in the middle of the prawn crackers over there."

The accounts are straightforward enough. It's not as though I have to check out stock lists or turnover. What is completely clear is a healthy pattern of growing numbers of clients, money reinvested as capital equipment and a lack of unnecessary borrowing.

"You've never been overdrawn?"

"I spend money I have. Not money I don't have. I don't mind paying out on a mortgage, but I'm blowed if I'm paying the kind of fees they demand on bank charges and overdrafts."

"Yes, sensible enough."

After an hour, I sit back, considering. He looks worried. "Hey, if you've any doubts about any of that, I've got all the till rolls, receipts, everything."

"No, I'm not worried at all. It looks good to me. On the strength of what I've seen, if you'd like to do it, in principle, I'm happy to invest. We can discuss detailed terms separately."

"Hey, that's great." He hesitates. "There's just one thing to clear up before we get down to brass tacks… Sorry, two things."

"Which are…?"

He holds up a finger. "One, if I am able to pay you off early, I have the option to do so?"

"Fine, no problem."

"And two.... You don't want to be involved in the management, do you? Have you any experience in…?"

"No and no. I'm an engineer, not a manager. I have zero interest in the day to day running of the business. That's your job."

"Good." He offers me his hand and we shake, then "You know, I've got a bottle of malt I was saving for an occasion like this."

*****