In Too Deep(130)

"I don't," she replied, heading for the elevator. "Those are your copies now. See you!"

As quickly as she arrived, Tabby was gone, the elevator taking her down stairs. I turned to Mark, who had a careful look on his face. "What is it?"

"Have you ever known anyone interested in Tabby who was willing to settle for just a kiss at her front door at the end of a good date?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen," I said. "Maybe Tabby has finally run into a guy who will treat her with respect and admiration. Trust me, when that happens, it feels great for a woman."

I saw Mark blush, and he turned back to his computer without a reply. "Okay, well, could you start taking a look at the businesses while I work my way through the files from last night?"

"Okay," I said, starting with the top folder on the pile. The first sort was easy, really. While we had given Tabby very specific ideas on companies that we wanted to look at in terms of income, potential for growth and other hard data, there were factors that we hadn't told her.

For example, one of our rules was that we didn't invest over a hundred thousand dollars unless the company was either offering very close to a majority stake, or that the company was already so wealthy that the stake offered was under ten percent. The first group of companies were true angel investments, meant to provide people with the ability to achieve their dream. They were relatively high risk, but still we did it to help people. The other group were companies that we were assured to get our money back, and we used them for growth of our total portfolio. Companies who were in neither group were eliminated because they either didn't need us, or were high enough risk that it wasn't a good investment for the amount of potential return.

That rule alone eliminated roughly a third of the pile. The second pass was more careful, as I geographically mapped each of the potential investments. Mark wanted Smiley companies all over the city, but especially in the areas that were being taken advantage of by either the Confederation or Owen Lynch's organization. The reason was simple, to give the neighborhoods that were being exploited by these groups something to rally around. After the second pass, which took close to two hours, I was left with four potential businesses. I set them aside for a final pass through with Mark after he was done and stretched. "How're you looking over there?"

"There's hundreds of companies here. I'm going to need to set up a database program to help us classify them and sort them according to a bunch of different factors. Just getting them all plotted on a map is going to take a long damn time," Mark said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Tell me you at least have something positive over there."

"Four potentials," I said, "but nothing that can't wait until after lunch. Besides, you still have your other investments to look after and everything. You can't be Marcus Smiley all the time, my love."

Mark hummed his assent and stretched, his back popping in three places. He walked away from his desk, a slight limp in his leg from where he had been shot. I knew he had to be tired, he only showed that limp when he was exhausted. "Come on," I said, making a decision, "let's get some lunch, come back, get our workouts in, and then go home. You're too blitzed to get anything else done."

"Okay," Mark said, sighing. "You're right, this was a lot easier when all I had to do was stay fit, cruise the markets, and do my other work. Not that I want to go back to that, no matter what."





Chapter 35


Mark




After a relaxing lunch at a Chinese restaurant that we were funding in the middle of the Triad-controlled part of Chinatown, Sophie and I drove back to the warehouse that was our headquarters as well as the first floor being another one of our investments, one of the most advanced fitness facilities in the entire state. The owner, a former NCAA strength coach who got frustrated with the limitations of college politics, was a nice guy in his thirties who knew a lot about fitness. Between his knowledge, Sophie's training as a physician's assistant, and my own prior knowledge of the body's systems from my training, I doubt there was any place in the country that could give me a better place to do what I needed to do.

"Good afternoon Marcus!" the staff member on duty said as Sophie and I came through the door. I was on strict terms with the owner that I was not to be called sir or Mr. Smiley by anyone in the gym. I may have been thirty-five percent owner, but I was still just there to do a workout just like everyone else. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Legs," Sophie answered for me. I inwardly winced, as I knew that Sophie's idea of a good leg workout usually left me feeling like my muscles were made of burning kerosene and my heart pounding somewhere between my throat and my eyeballs.

"Did I do something to upset you?" I asked as we headed towards the one nod I had to being the owner, an executive locker room that Sophie and I could use together. "I thought you felt good after last night."

"Oh, I did," Sophie replied with a twinkle in her eye. "In fact, the better you do during your workout today, the sooner you get to do that again."

During the course of my free-wheeling, scattergun approach to higher education after leaving high school, I took a course on basic human psychology online from Stanford. In it, we covered quite a few lessons talking about motivation, and I still remember from the videos that the professor was talking about the difference between internal and external motivation.