Better Than This (5 page)

Douglas said, “Whatever the cause, that setback almost ruined you. For a while you appeared to be recovering, but then we see this steady decrease in revenue. Lately it seems to be getting worse.”

“It’s a phasing problem,” I said.

“Phasing? Maybe you’d like to explain that.”

“The truth is five or six months ago we stumbled over the chance to pitch for a new account. Perhaps we weren’t in the best position to take it up.” I avoided looking at Marcus, who had argued so strongly at the time that we couldn’t afford the investment. “Have you heard of Morgan Industries?” Douglas and Flynn looked at each other and shook their heads. “Maybe the name doesn’t mean anything, it wouldn’t to most people, but Morgan Industries is a half-billion-dollar-a-year company with an advertising budget that runs into tens of millions.”

“And you’re pitching for their business?” Douglas asked, sounding sceptical.

I shook my head. “We’re not in that league. Not yet anyway. But Morgan Industries is made up of a number of companies who operate in technology associated markets. Their account is handled by KCM, but earlier this year Morgan bought a company called Spectrum Software, who for reasons of their own didn’t want KCM as their agent, so we were given a chance along with some other agencies to pitch. It’s a dream opportunity. Right now there’s only KCM and us left in the race, and Sam Mendez who heads Spectrum isn’t keen on KCM. If we win this one it would be a real coup. We’d have a foot in the door. From there the sky is the limit. Give us a year or two and we might have a shot for the rest of Morgan Industries’ business.”

Douglas absorbed the implications of what I was telling him. I’d said all the things any banker in this city loves to hear. Technology, software, billion-dollar parent company. Music to their ears. But Douglas retained a banker’s natural caution. “But competing for this account presumably incurs a cost.”

“Significantly. A pitch like this can take months, as this one has. It means people are diverted from existing work, and if we get the business there’s a period where the cash flow impact is negative. We have to work up briefs, design campaigns and pay for media and there’s going to be a lag between money going out and money coming in from the client.”

“But you believe the benefit outweighs the cost?”

That’s putting it mildly. If we win Spectrum we’ll be taken seriously as a contender for other big accounts. We specialize in technology and ecommerce, areas where these companies are spending tens of millions to create their brands. If we eventually took over all of Morgan Industries’ business it would make us one of the biggest advertising firms in California inside five years, working in the biggest growth area the world has seen since The Industrial Revolution.”

He knew what that meant, we were suddenly talking about becoming a firm with a turnover of tens of millions. He took a few seconds to absorb these facts and it was clear he was interested now, but then he frowned when he looked back at the figures.

“And this explains your decline in revenue?” Douglas said.

“Like I said. It’s phasing and it’s temporary. We didn’t really have the resources to make this pitch as well as take proper care of our existing clients. The truth is we took our eye off the ball and allowed our normal work to dry up a little. We thought we could ride it out, but the whole process has taken longer than we thought.”

“But you’re still in the running?”

“We’re not just in the running, we’re almost home. It’s almost certain that we’re going to win the Spectrum account.”

Douglas stared at me intently. I knew what he was thinking. He was trying to decide if he believed me. When I’d walked through the door he’d been planning to shut us down, and now he was faced with the prospect that if he did he could be losing the bank a lot of future business. If the scenario I’d laid before him came to fruition Carpe Diem would become a major client, and the bank would be there all the way to finance our expansion. He glanced at Flynn, and at Marcus. I silently prayed that he wouldn’t ask Marcus if he shared my optimism. Marcus had never been in favour of this pitch, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to conceal his doubts and resentments, but Douglas had already surmised that of the two of us when it came to business I did the talking.

“We’re going to need to see detail,” he said cautiously, but sounding a hell of a lot friendlier than he had thirty minutes earlier. “A lot of detail.” He smiled a little but he wasn’t kidding.

“No problem.” I swung around my laptop and showed them the first screen of my presentation. “This is how we expect things to go over the next two years. If we get the finance we need.”

I started doing my thing, and as they watched and listened I knew that I had them on the line. Now I had to make sure I didn’t try to reel them in too quickly.

Two and half hours later, Marcus and I stood in the elevator as the doors slid closed. I exhaled and leaned back against the wall feeling like I’d just gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis. Douglas and Flynn had gone over my plan with a fine tooth comb, critical of every detail, questioning my logic every step of the way. Every answer I gave they noted down and then five minutes later they would come back at the same issue from another angle. They were looking for weaknesses, searching for poorly thought out strategy or financial projections based on a shaky premise and the more they put the pressure on the more likely it was the cracks would appear if they were there. But gradually they’d been convinced, and by the time we left their attitudes had undergone a complete turnaround. When they saw us out they were wreathed in smiles and it was handshakes all round.

I loosened the tie I’d put on for the occasion and looked at Marcus. “For a while there, I was worried.”

He took off his glasses and started polishing the lenses to avoid looking at me.

“You could look happier about this,” I said lightly.

“What exactly am I supposed to be happy about?” he said,

meeting my eye at last. “You heard what that guy Douglas said. They were going to shut us down. We would have lost everything.”

“I think they were trying to scare us. Anyway they’re going to give us the money, Marcus. Two hundred thousand to tide us through the next few months.”

“That isn’t what they said.”

“Well, as good as.”

In fact it wasn’t as simple as that. The bank were going to monitor our situation closely and they wanted more information from our accountant. They intended to watch us every step of the way, and if anything went wrong they would pull the plug. But the point was that for now, at least, we had a reprieve. I was beginning to feel elated and I wanted Marcus to feel that way too.

“And if we don’t get the Spectrum account?” Marcus said.

“We will.”

He was silent for a minute in the face of my refusal to contemplate the alternative. “You got us a breathing space, Nick. That’s all. If we don’t get that account we’re finished.”

I was saved from answering when the elevator came to the ground floor and the doors slid open. We crossed the vast airy lobby featuring a huge modern sculpture in the centre that looked like a tangle of abstractly put together metal parts to me, but probably cost several hundred thousand dollars. Outside Marcus stopped on the sidewalk and started looking for a cab, always a fruitless exercise.

“Let’s walk,” I suggested. It was still sunny, remarkably enough. The blue skies above the towers around us, the warmth of the sun, the reprieve we had just won all conspired to fill me with vigour and good feelings. I figured it was time I tried to put things right between Marcus and me, and I decided to fetch my car later. “Come on, we’ll get a sandwich and sit by the water.”

He agreed though he didn’t look too happy about it. We headed towards our office in South Beach, not far from the new Giants stadium, Bell Park. For a while I talked about baseball,

trying to engage him, but mostly he answered in monosyllables. We used to go to games regularly, though not this season. There was a good feeling about the Giants this year. Their first season since moving from Candlestick Park. Barry Bond was still the number one hitter and though some of the players weren’t exactly getting any younger there was hope they would take the National Championship this year. I thought of all the times we’d sat in the stands, just the two of us. We’d eat hot dogs, have a couple of beers and hang out together. Guys’ stuff. I missed that.

There’s a place near Pier 38 where you can get a pretty good chicken sandwich and a coffee and sit and watch the world go by. The bay looks beautiful on a sunny day, even the Oakland Bay Bridge is something to look at. Maybe it isn’t as striking as the Golden Gate, which is definitely more graceful in its design. But the Bay Bridge to me is just as impressive in its own way by virtue of its size. Thirteen kilometres and double-deck to boot.

I bought the drinks and food over to the table where Marcus was sitting. The Embercadero that skirts the waterfront has been turned into a nice place to sit and walk since the earthquake in eighty-nine. They tore down the freeway and planted a double avenue of huge palms and now there are apartment buildings springing up (great if you can afford a seven-hundred thousand-dollar two-bedroom condo) and all kinds of businesses moving into renovated warehouses and the piers. It’s hard to bear a grudge sitting in such a place. I hoped.

I sat down and said, “Listen, I know I should’ve told you about the bank sooner.”

Marcus looked at me, the light glinting on his glasses so I couldn’t see his eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought I could take care of it before you needed to know. I was hoping we’d get the Spectrum account then I’d talk to the bank …” My voice trailed off. The truth was I’d avoided thinking about the how. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

Marcus studied me. “Are you, Nick?”

“You don’t believe me?”

He started to answer then stopped and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does matter. It matters to me. I shouldn’t have kept it from you and I wish I hadn’t. But it isn’t only the bank you’re bothered about is it?”

His eye slid away and I knew I was right. “Maybe we shouldn’t get into this,” he said.

“How can we not get into it? We’re supposed to be friends as well as partners. Don’t you think it would be better if we cleared the air. I know you didn’t want us to pitch for Spectrum, and I know why. But this isn’t the same as Office Line

“Isn’t it?” Marcus shot back unexpectedly. “The way I remember it you almost ruined us then too, which makes it pretty similar to me. But that isn’t the point is it, Nick? I was against Office Line because I thought it was too risky ploughing so much into a single account, but you were so damn sure you were right you went ahead anyway.”

“You agreed, Marcus.”

“No, I gave in. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe I did pressure you. But we were unlucky. If Office Line had started six months later with a more realistic plan it might have been a different story. Instead of ending up broke those guys that got it up and running would probably have ended up with more money than they knew what to do with. For chrissakes, Marcus, they were still in their twenties! And we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation now. It was just bad timing. Could’ve happened to anyone. But Spectrum is a solid company and Morgan Industries isn’t about to go broke.”

“But we almost did.”

“Almost. But we’re still here aren’t we?”

“Except that I never thought we should pitch for this account in the first place. We couldn’t afford it. We didn’t have the people or the time. We should’ve concentrated on hanging onto what we had.” His voice had been rising, now he paused. “That’s the whole point, Nick. We’re here, but we almost lost it all and I didn’t even know what was going on.”

“I apologized for that. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“What I want is for you to start treating me like an equal partner for once.”

“You think I don’t do that?”

He uttered a short barking derisory laugh. “Do you? I tell you what. How about if I said we pull out of the Spectrum pitch now. Would you do it?”

I stared at him, uncertain if he meant what he was suggesting, unable to believe that he could be though he met my gaze with unflinching seriousness. “How could we pull out? After everything we’ve put into it. Even if we did it wouldn’t do any good now. Without that account we’re finished.”

“We could go back to the bank. Put together a revised plan and work our way out of this mess with the clients we already have.”

“It would take years, even if they went along with it. Which they wouldn’t.”

“So, the answer’s no,” Marcus said.

“It isn’t a fair question. This is the biggest chance we’re ever going to have. Ever. If we win this account we get everything we always wanted.”

“No, Nick, we get everything you ever wanted. You’re the one that’s always chasing the rainbow, you’re the one that wants us to be another KCM. I was happy the way things used to be. We had a good client base, we were expanding slowly, and we were making a good living doing what we wanted to do. That’s what I always wanted.”

“So, maybe I’m a little more ambitious,” I argued. “Is that a crime? Is it going to break your heart if we make a lot more money. You still get to do what you want, Marcus.”

“But aren’t we supposed to make these decisions together? Right now it feels like it doesn’t matter what I say or think any more. You’re in such a damn hurry to get wherever it is you’re going.” He shook his head. “You’ve changed. Sometimes I don’t recognize you.” He looked at his sandwich, which he’d taken only one bite from and put it down. “I’m not hungry. I think I’m going to go back to the office.”

I watched him leave and I kept thinking about what he’d said, his words merging in my mind with the accusation Sally had made that morning. It seemed that suddenly nobody knew me any more.

The decision to quit my well paid job with an established agency to go it alone with Marcus had not been easily taken. We were talking it over one night over beers and clam linguine at a place in the old cannery across the road from Fisherman’s Wharf. It was early in October, which for me is the best time in San Francisco. The summer fogs have gone, the days are often sunny and warm, and with the return of school the tourist crowds have diminished to a tolerable level.