by John Oakes
Cody sat in silence, trying to absorb what she was saying.
"With every A grade, with every Advanced Placement course, with every school acceptance letter, I received love and praise from my family. But by the time I came to realize that that love and praise was also dependent on the next achievement..."
Kelly looked away out the window.
"It's not very professional, but I will advise you on this business matter, theoretically giving my take as a friend, not a lawyer, and...and because I need to ask you a question in return."
Cody leaned in, still pleasantly shocked from her frankness.
"Ask me anything."
Kelly paused for a long moment, the words hesitating to leave her lips.
"If you had it all to do over..." Her mouth stopped and her eyes searched him. "...Would you have done it the way your family wanted?" Kelly finished her question with a slight tilt of her head.
"Not a fucking chance."
Cody was surprised with the clarity he felt in that moment. His gaze met hers.
"I've made a ton of failures. Don't get me wrong. But after ten years of adulthood, I finally realized that was never one of them."
Kelly smiled and her eyes grew the tiniest bit misty. "I'm sorry that I was dismissive of you."
"I'm sorry for being such a complete ass."
She smiled and shook her head. "Trust me, it's all been for the good. You're too hard on yourself I think."
"I was all flustered and I shouldn't have been that harsh to you."
"Maybe not. But you held the light up like few could, and I didn't like what I saw. I have very little to like about my clients, true. But it's not their fault that they aren't the people I envisioned helping: poor people, sick folks, the little guy. I don't like how my job has made me, but I also don't like the way I've chosen to act. With you most of all."
"Are you going to quit?" Cody asked.
"I could stay where I am, doing pro bono work on the side, but no I don't think I want that. I think a real change is in the offing."
"Will you be a lawyer still?"
"Probably. I have nothing against law per se. But I need a change. I'm suffocating, in those offices, in my family..." Kelly looked away out the window again giving a brief shake of her head.
"I want you to succeed, Cody."
She called him Cody again. That was wonderful to hear.
"I want you to break free from it all – all the expectation and criticism and doubt. Find your way. Because if you can do it..."
She looked back at him and their eyes met again. He wanted to fall forward into her eyes. The dim light was making them dance. And there was a light in them he hadn't seen before. She reached out a hand and laid it on his wrist heavily. She leaned in and said,
"So, here is what you go tell that Tagg fella."
************
"Lots of people showed up," Cody said. "That's good."
He nodded to himself nervously.
"We'll see," Winton replied. "No idea how this is going to go. I'm suddenly struck by how little I know about business."
"That makes two of us. But I knew that already I think."
Darla's was filling up with more people than Cody had ever seen there. In addition to the usual patrons, there was a variety of people of all shapes and sizes in the crowd, probably friends and family of the regulars. Darla raced back and forth behind the counter trying to meet the demand for drinks. Two young ladies and a guy were behind the bar working with her.
"I didn't think there were so many of these people in San Antonio," Jason said, leaning against the booth where Cody and Winton were sitting.
"What are you talking about 'these people'?" Kevin strode up wearing a business suit.
"Hi Kevin," Cody said. "Thanks for helping out tonight. Couldn't do it without you."
"I ain't helpin' anyone, Crest WhiteStrips. I'm working. I want that boat. Big old boat."
"Well, thanks all the same." Cody shook Kevin's hand and Kevin gave him that wide-eyed look that Cody now understood was as cheerful greeting.
Kevin's help really would be invaluable tonight. The business at hand was fairly straightforward, but should complexities arise, the financially astute Kevin would keep the train on the tracks in his grumbling way.
"I think it's time," Winton said to Cody. "People have more or less had time to get settled in. Well, come on. Don't be afraid."
Cody stood from their usual booth and looked out over the bustling crowd. Winton began tapping his glass with a fork and others picked up the signal. Cody felt a lump in his throat and turned back to take a drink. He had to seem confident. He needed his grampa's charm.
"Hello everyone. I'd just like to start tonight by thanking you all for coming and thanking Darla for hosting this event." Cody paused to take a deep breath, trying to remember the words Winton had drilled into him. "As many of you know, over the last few months, I've been working with a core group of about a dozen people to put on shows. It started as a last minute attempt to salvage the reputation of a high school. But over the next few weeks, we couldn't keep up with the demand from schools wanting our services, or from folks wanting to get paid to participate."
Cody's mind was growing hazy with the nervousness he felt. He looked down at Winton, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.
"More or less, what tonight all comes down to is that we believe we've found a way to bring more people into the fold, many into full-time positions. Not only this, but there is an opportunity tonight for anyone here to become part owners in this enterprise."
Cody turned and took another drink. Someone shouted from the crowd, "It's a hotel right?"
"I heard it was a golf course!"
"I heard it was a Wild West theme."
Cody held out his hands. "Now y'all let me finish explaining. There will be a time for questions."
Things quieted to a low murmur over which Cody could make himself heard.
He explained a bit about the resort plans, how it would be staffed entirely with little people, how the staff would be augmented for larger performances, and how folks from San Antonio and elsewhere could bunk for free at the resort during their shift rotations.
More questions were lobbed politely from the crowd.
"In a moment we'll answer more of your questions in detail. But as you know, the reason you are here tonight is to consider investing in Cody Corp so that we can meet our capital needs. The details of this shareholding will be discussed further by one of my colleagues. I hope this enterprise will interest you, and I look forward to working with each and every one of you."
Cody sat down and took a deep breath before tipping back his beer. To Cody's great relief, Kevin stood on the table and took the center stage. Kevin led the room methodically through the pages of the prospectus, lining out the terms of their agreement with Tagg's group, Groveland Investments, which had agreed to Cody's offer of $250,000 for 51% ownership.
Cody had met Tagg at a fancy hotel bar in Houston. He'd been shocked when the words Kelly wrote down for him came out of his mouth the way he rehearsed. He wasn't shocked, however, when Tagg had actually laughed out loud after his offer. Tagg had shook his head at first, but then said, "Fine. That's a fine deal. A quarter mil for 51% and a set future sale option. How did you know I'd take so little? I gotta know."
Cody, shocked, had responded, "Like you said, you want out and I'm not the only option, but I'm here, and I'm offering you a way out of the mess you've been in for years. And if I succeed, I'll want to buy the property off you."
They agreed on a sale price of 750k plus the appraised value of the structural improvements Tagg's group invested in, minus Cody Corp's $250,000 initial investment. Cody had no intention of paying that until the resort was well off the ground, but by then hopefully he'd have met his Grampa's challenge too.
Kevin was to the end of the prospectus and explaining how the evening would flow.
"First, interested parties will submit an offer of inv
estment. The officers of the company will assess those numbers quickly, right here, and come to a decision on the number of shares to be offered and their price."
Kevin then opened the floor up to questions. Cody was intimidated by the business acuity of the few people who asked questions, most of which dealt with dividends and exchanges of stocks. Kevin fielded these questions to the best of his ability, only once having to consult with Cody, Jason and Winton before answering the crowd. Cody had to hand it to Kevin. He was a character, alright, but he had another side that was all business.
Cody felt himself relaxing right when someone asked a question he hadn't considered.
"What's it gonna be called?" a voice sounded from the crowd.
Grumblings of support for the question came from the crowd.
Kevin turned around, looking from Winton to Cody and back again.
Winton just shrugged.
Kevin turned around and informed the crowd that there was no name just yet.
"Why do we need this guy? Why don't we start our own corporation and go sell it?" An uncomfortable silence fell over the crowd. Some made noises of support for the question, some made noises to dismiss it. Kevin just turned and looked down at Cody, who stared back dumbly. Winton took Kevin's hand and climbed up onto the table.
He stepped forward to the table's edge and looked around.
"If you want to go off and start your own troupe or your own hotel you go right ahead. But me and our crew, we're staking our savings and our reputations on this man for a reason. This isn't about big or little. This is about integrity, hard work and the dream of self-determination. It's everything that this country and this great state are about."
Cheers erupted in small pockets throughout the crowd.
When Winton turned it on, he had the presence of a 400 lb opera singer.
"Now if we've asked enough questions," Winton said, "I think it is time to prepare your bids."
They received 78 bids, 69 of which came together for a grand total of $65,400. The other 9 bids had been for $2000 or more. One was for $18,000, one for $15,000 and one for $9,000, making the evening's grand total $138,000. There were a few offers of $100 or less. Kevin suggested that shares start at $300 with the hope of squeezing a little more out of the bottom ranks and deterring the unserious. People could always go in together for a share if they wanted, anyway. The question then was how to value the company.
"We can just see how many we sell," Jason said. "That'll tell us. If we can sell the shares then that confidence means value."
"No, no, pretty boy. More shares means more burden to pay out dividends. You gotta be careful."
They compromised and divided the company into two thousand shares, valued at $250 each, 999 of which would be put up for sale.
Over 600 shares were sold that night. Kevin and Jason worked tirelessly for an hour taking down information and methods of payment. It would take a few days to receive all the funds, but they had come an awfully long way toward their goal. Word would spread and hopefully more purchases would trickle in. Jason clapped Cody on the back and told him that theoretically he was worth $250,250.
"No, everything we sold is only worth $170,000." Cody waved an arm in protest at the crowd, largely working their way to the exit. "Says Winton."
"No, Cody, you own half the shares in Cody Corp, just over. We didn't sell half because that's yours. So each share that is sold reflects the value of your total shares."
Cody shook his head.
"It's all theoretical though," Jason said. "But maybe someday it will make you a rich man, a very rich man." Jason patted a sheaf of papers in his hand. "And I'm now the proud owner of 70 shares of Cody Corp."
"How could you afford all that?"
"Hey, I'll have you know that—
"Yeah, yeah, you're a successful business man. But cut the crap."
"Ok fine. TR wanted in too."
"After everything that happened? Seriously?"
"He told me not to tell you though. Cody, he's a big dumb animal. That fight happened because TR has the powers of expression of a Vietnamese pot bellied pig."
"That's his savings for starting a shop of his own one day! I don't want that on my conscience if this all goes under."
"How is that any different than the rest of these people? You're raising 250k from a largely blue collar crowd."
Cody scrunched up his mouth, not wanting to think about the havoc that would ensue if he failed.
"How is that big shit head anyways?"
Jason just laughed. "He asks the same about you. Why can't you two just kiss and make up?"
"My ass is right here if he wants to apologize."
Jason shook his head in frustration. "You are a couple of stubborn bastards, you know that? You ever think about me and Ricky? What about us, huh? I mean now I gotta go hang out with TR alone. You know how hard it is to hang out with him one-on-one? I've grown to love the guy, but Lord have mercy, he dips Cheetos in pudding. You're the one that makes this group work for some reason."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Plan B
A week passed and additional support did come in. Over 200 more shares were sold. Cody Corp now held a liquid $232,000 from stock sales and the saved profits from Tiny Tacklers. No one could be displeased with the outpouring of support, both moral and financial. But Cody Corp was still short $18,000 from their stated goal of $250,000. And then they still might fall short because of operating costs.
Tagg was understandably getting impatient.
Cody, Jason and Ricky were parked near a taco truck near the UTSA campus. They stood around Jason's car, eating and deliberating the problem. Jason was pacing back and forth, Cody was leaned up against the Lexus, and Ricky stood nearby, smoking with one hand and eating a soft taco with the other.
Cody saw an email pop up on his phone. It was another one from Monica, this time with a link to a devotional series on abstinence. He would write her back and tell her what a great help it had been, but not now. Things were too complicated with Cody Corp.
"It kills me that we've come so far," Jason said. "I can't even believe it."
He finished his food and took two steps to chuck the refuse angrily in a rusty old trashcan.
"We're short like twenty grand plus our operating costs. But we can't stop now. We just can't."
"No one is more surprised than me, Jase. But everyone has already done so dang much already. I'd feel like a real ass trying to squeeze people for more." Cody swirled a straw in his soda and slurped out the last of the liquid.
"I got all my eggs in this basket too," Jason said. "I don't want to pressure people and lose their trust. But still, it would be a shame to come this far and fail."
Cody nodded and clapped Jason on the back affectionately.
"I know, brother. I don't suppose TR has any more thousands hanging around. Maybe he's some lost prince of Sweden?"
Jason shook his head. "Maybe we need to see about getting a bank loan or—
"Oh fine," Ricky said sternly to the sidewalk.
Cody's throat tightened. Ricky sounded frustrated. That was never good.
"Fine," Ricky said again. "Let's go."
Jason and Cody looked back and forth, wondering if Ricky was talking to another person or on a cell phone. Their puzzled gazes turned back on Ricky. Before they could speak to ask what the hell he was talking about, he bent down to stub out his cigarette, then stood and flicked it into the trash ten feet away.
"I'm gonna take you both somewhere."
He put his hands on his narrow hips. His Fu Man Chu bent and he exhaled heavily through his nose.
"Way things are going in this world, it's best you know anyways."
Jason drove and Ricky directed from the back seat. Darkness settled and they found themselves on the south side of town, heading into an industrial district. Jason and Cody had absolutely no idea what Ricky had been talking about. But he seemed intent. Had they done something wrong? Was he taking them somewhere to
teach them a lesson, like when Denzel took that interracial football team out to Gettysburg to teach them teamwork and tolerance?
"Rick, you ain't having us wacked are you?" Jason asked, as he turned down another desolate street.
"There," Ricky said in response. "Turn right after that homeless man pooping in the trashcan."
They pulled into a short driveway nestled between high, unending rows of corrugated metal buildings. The driveway left only a space large enough for a car to park off the street before it met a heavy, green gate. Jason rolled the window down and placed his fingers near the keypad on the driver's side. Ricky said four numbers robotically.
"Remember that," Ricky said.
Jason pulled forward, tires clanking heavily over the gate threshold.
"I wasn't ready," Cody said. "How the hell am I gonna remember--"
Ricky leaned up and gripped Cody's arm. He repeated the numbers and then said, "Just fuckin' memorize it."
Cody tried to ignore the heat in Ricky's voice, but it was hard, as Cody was unaccustomed to seeing Ricky in such a state. He said the numbers back to himself over and over again, while Jason drove along an endless alley bordered on either side with red garage doors, one after the other.
Halfway down the first alley, Ricky told Jason to turn right into the alley that ran through the center of the complex. Ricky counted off the rows, more for them than himself, Cody realized.
1-2-3-4.
"Turn left."
Jason turned left into the fourth alley. "1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8," Ricky counted.
"Stop here."
Ricky popped the car door open and slid out the left side of the Lexus. Before Cody could even get out of his seat, Ricky had the padlock unlocked and was lifting up the door. He held it waist high and looked right and left. Seeing that no one was in sight, Ricky lifted the rolling door to the height of his head. He motioned Cody and Jason inside hurriedly. He pulled the door closed behind them.