Since my contract was for a twenty-eight-hour week, I normally worked for four hours a day from Monday through Friday, and then a full eight-hour day on Saturday. But whenever I didn’t have to go to school, I opted to put in six hours from Monday through Thursday, and finish with a half day on Friday. That allowed me a full free weekend!
At least that was the plan.
About an hour before quitting time, John called me, telling me that there was a problem and he’d like to meet me at the condo we had bought near the community college’s main campus. Sighing, I told him the time I could be there and he eagerly confirmed that he would meet me then. After I finished my day, I drove over to the condo while pondering on what would be waiting for me.
“Tim!” I heard John call out, as he jumped out of his car.
“John!” I mimicked his tone, before quickly dropping to a neutral voice. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Let’s go inside first.” he said, before unlocking the door and beckoning me to enter.
“Speaking of which ... What the hell happened with the door?” I asked, pointing at the entrance that had been widened significantly.
“Wheelchair accessibility.” he responded while shrugging his shoulders. “With this place being so close to campus, only having a single floor, and your tendency to get seriously injured, I decided to put up a little extra money and make the whole place disability-friendly. I’m also doing the same with the house for Mom and Dad. They don’t need it right now, but at their age ... You never know. I’ll show you all the other changes later. First, we have to talk about something.”
After we walked inside and he closed the door behind us, he reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and presented it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked after checking over the ten pages of legal text I had pulled out of the envelope.
“Essentially, it’s a partnership agreement.” he grinned. “I created a Holding and I want you to be the controlling partner, since it’s your money that I used for funding. And I named it ‘T.B. Holding’, so it would be kinda weird for me to have a company named after you. If your first name started with a ‘P’, though, I would’ve named it ‘PB&J’. Shame, really.”
“Wait ... what?” I asked perplexed, partly because I didn’t understand how he could simply create a company with me as a partner without telling me, and partly because I worried about his sense of humor.
“I created a holding company.” John started explaining, a little slower this time. “I then transferred the cash you gave me to that company and used it to buy this condo and the house, so both belong to the holding now. The partnership agreement would make us both directors of that holding, but you would be the majority partner calling the shots.”
This time I understood what he said. Though, I still was confused about the details.
“How in the hell did you simply transfer all that cash to a company!?” I asked.
“It wasn’t simple, but it’s possible. You see, the holding is currently owning three assets. The condo, the house, and an imaginary software for online warehouse management that we’re licensing out for $6,500 per warehouse. I know someone, who knows someone, who, in turn, knows someone across the border. I gave them the cash, they split it across twenty of their people to each buy one of our licenses, and the money arrived in our bank account as legitimate revenue.”
When he finished, he stood there with a smug grin on his face. If my math was correct, whoever helped him took roughly a thirteen percent cut. That was ridiculously little as far as I knew, but maybe a thousand dollars per person was worth more south of the border. I had a sneaking suspicion I needed to check, though.
“So ... You gave that money to someone who has twenty Mexican warehouse managers who can smurf the money back into your bank account. What do they use their warehouses for?”
“Avocados.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
I decided then and there to not ask any more questions, hope this wouldn’t come with strings attached, and never use their services again. I also decided that I should try to find some time to create some kind of online warehouse management software. It didn’t need to be good, or actually work, but I should be able to point at something in case the feds ask questions about it. Maybe it would be enough to modify some open source software that already exists.
Grunting, I read through the partnership agreement. I’m no lawyer, but the language was easy enough to understand. I would be the majority partner, so, while John took care of legal matters because I was a minor, he couldn’t just do with my money and assets as he pleased. It also contained all the procedural details for when he would remove himself from the holding after I turned eighteen. It sure looked like he didn’t intend to screw me over, so I signed both copies and handed him one.
