Sally left and Bradford checked his voice messages. Fred had called regarding lunch on Wednesday. Dave returned his call and waited while his secretary tracked him down. He was pleased he had followed up on Saturday’s conversation. Fred seemed like a nice guy.
“Dave, thanks for getting back to me so fast. I appreciate that.”
“My pleasure, Fred. Besides, Mary wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t. We had such a great time Saturday. Did you all stay out much later after we left? I heard you were stopping for a nightcap.”
“We all stopped for one drink and went home. We were tired and I’m getting too old for the late nights. Judy would have stayed and danced, but I feel it too much the next morning. Mario told me they left the Beantown Pub around 2 AM and stopped for breakfast. It was after 3:30 when they got back to Buzz’ house.”
“Listen, I have a staff meeting in a few minutes so I need to cut this short. Can you come over to my Shells Restaurant on Henderson Road Wednesday for lunch? There are a couple things I’m looking at doing and would like to get your input.”
“Great! I’ll be there at 12:30.” Dave had no idea what Fred was thinking, but had a hunch it was the start of something good.
The 5th hole was a challenging Par 4; 365 yards, dogleg right. A fairway bunker and two 50-foot pine trees protected the dogleg. The green was framed by a deep sand trap in front and water to the right. The hole was well designed. There have probably been more double bogeys on this hole than birdies.
It was 240 yards to carry the bunker and approximately 255 to carry the pine trees. That was more than enough protection for Bradford, but Buzz was going to try and fly the trees and reach the green. It was only a 290-yard carry to the green. There was a slight breeze from right to left and slightly in their face.
Buzz’ problem was that the hole did not fit his eye or his swing. Buzz liked to hit a long draw. This shot called for a power fade to help take the bunkers and water out of play. However, sometimes length off the tee changes everything.
Bradford didn’t know a golf ball could be hit that hard. The sound was different. Buzz’ drive easily cleared the pine trees on the right and headed towards the green. It had a slight fade and briefly flirted with the water, but the wind kept it on line. The ball landed softly three yards short of the front sand trap, rolled forward a few feet, and came to rest on the fringe only 25 yards short of the pin.
Dave applauded. “Nice shot, Buzz”, but he didn’t hear or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge him. He was too busy complaining to his friends in the gallery about the wind and bragging that last week he had driven the green.
Bradford selected 3-wood and hit it perfectly, left of the fairway bunker, 145 yards to the center-cut hole location. That’s all he could do.
Dave was 15 minutes late for his lunch appointment with Fred. He had been on schedule until 11:30 when he received a call from a hotel owner that had seen his website and wanted to know if his company could help him. Obviously, the answer was yes. Sally quoted him some estimated rates and he sounded interested. The true test would be if he sent us the information we needed to prepare a term sheet. 70% of the calls were “shoppers.”
“Shells” had a nice lunch crowd and looked to be about 2/3 full, mostly a business crowd with a few tables that looked like tourists. People were still coming in for lunch. The restaurants were medium priced and enjoyed a reputation as a nice, family restaurant that served good seafood. Mary had dinner in the Shells on Clearwater Beach last month, and said the food was excellent.
Fred was at the front door greeting customers and greeted Dave with a warm smile and handshake. A few people looked over to see if he was a celebrity. It always makes a person feel important when the owner knows you. Dave had stopped at “Cheers” in Boston last summer, but nobody knew his name.
“Dave, can you hold off on lunch a few minutes? I would like to show you the place and what we are trying to do.”
“Sure Fred, lead on.”
Dave soon found himself in the kitchen trying to stay out of the way while Fred explained the operation. One person had overall responsibility for the order, while others worked in their little sections; one person did nothing but salads, one did pasta and another monitored the fried foods. It was like an assembly line with the chef coordinating the production and ensuring the overall quality and presentation.
Fred pointed Dave to the grill and the ovens. “That’s what I need to replace. These appliances are almost ten years old and are starting to break down. The new ones are faster and maintain a more consistent temperature. One of these days the restaurant will be packed, and the ovens and grill will go down. I‘ll be left with nothing but the microwave. I also want to knock out that wall and put in a small grille for backup and extra capacity for special events.”
“How much are we talking about, Fred, for everything?”
“$200,000 should cover it, including $25,000 for a few other items. Can you do it?”
“If your cash flow can handle the new lease payments, I don’t see why not. Tell your vendors to start work and to invoice us directly.”
“Excellent. I’m hungry Dave; let’s see if our table is ready. I don’t think we will have a problem getting good service.” Rank does have privileges.
“Try the sea bass. We get this fresh daily from Tampa Bay, and it compares to the sea bass you pay $30 - $40 for in the Caribbean.” Dave took his suggestion. Fred ordered the salmon salad claiming he was trying to drop a few pounds. Dave was in the mood for a glass of wine, but settled on iced tea. Business first.
While they waited for their food, Dave asked Fred for a quick overview of his business. He needed this to determine which financing sources to use. “Fred, other than knowing Shells is a small chain, I know little else. Can you give me the five-minute overview?”
“Sure; happy to. I started this restaurant five years ago and am 100% owner. I’m also 50% partner in the other six restaurants; one in South Tampa, two in Clearwater, and three in the Fort Lauderdale area. I hope to open 10-15 new locations between here and Miami in the next five years. Each location grosses about $2 -$3 million with a 30% to 40% NOI (Net Operating Income). We have been lucky so far.”
“I’ll say. Is your NOI after the mortgage payment? Who owns the other 50%?”
“You met my partner Saturday night; Mario! And that’s the beauty of it; we have no mortgages and no debt. I provide the expertise and management; Mario provides the money. We split profits right down the middle. Mario is a great partner. We get together around once or twice a month, sometimes on his yacht, and talk business. Then we fish. And speaking of fish, here comes our lunch.”
The presentation was excellent. The entrees were served on octagon-shaped platters with an engrained fish design. The sea bass was prepared “en papillote”, stuffed with fresh mushrooms, parsley, red peppers and shallots, and complimented with creamy new potatoes.
Bradford couldn’t help thinking what a great setup Fred had. He was also trying to work out the numbers. Conservatively, 30% NOI on $2M is $600,000 per restaurant; times seven is $4.2 million pretax income. Even if each restaurant carried a mortgage payment of $200,000, Fred would still be doing great.
Mario’s return on investment was a little tougher to calculate. “What’s it take to build one of these, two million?”
“This one cost about $2.3M including the land. Four locations are right on the water where land costs were high; and everything cost more in the Ft. Lauderdale area. Mario has about $20M cash in the seven restaurants. I tell you Dave, without Mario I would have this restaurant and maybe one other. It was my lucky day when I met Mario.”
“It sounds like you have a good thing going with Mario. There are a lot of small businesses that can’t grow because they can’t raise the money.” Bradford couldn’t help but wonder where Mario got the money.
“Let’s take a ride, Dave. I want to show you a restaurant I’m thinking of buying. I’d like your opinion. We should be back by 3:00 at the latest.”
Bradford had 145 yards to a center pin and chose 8-iron. He caught it a little heavy and came up 20 feet short. It was the right club; he just didn’t hit it solid. I’m not going to complain about being 20 feet away, Dave thought. Ken always told me to be happy with my average shots and not beat himself up over them. Ken would say; “You’re putting, it could be a lot worse.”
Buzz had a golden opportunity for birdie; actually two opportunities. From 25 yards, either a good chip or a good putt would do it. His chip was on line, but came up 10 feet short. Not bad, but not good from that distance. Dave two-putted for par and it was up to Buzz to make his birdie putt. He missed on the high side for a disappointing par. Bradford remained only one down.
Juan and his passenger were halfway home when the anchor line was untied and the eight bags of heroin began to float away. An hour later the heroin was plucked from the water and loaded into a 26’ powerboat running without lights. The “tip” had been accurate. The location and the beacon frequency were right on target. Phase I of their plan had succeeded.
The boat was long gone when Sam and Ron arrived three hours later.
Juan was thinking of Maria when both his dreams and boat exploded sending both to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.
Diego was 200 yards away floating comfortably in the water. He had liked Juan, but he had also liked many of the other men that he had killed. It was never personal; just business. Juan could not be trusted to keep silent if he were caught, and besides, Juan’s disappearance would make him the prime suspect for the Drug Cartel that would surely be looking for their stolen drugs. These were not people that you wanted to fool with. Luckily, Diego had made plans to disappear.
He swam lazily towards the small island and waited for his friends to pick him up. He thought about his new life in the United States with the $3M he would earn from this job. Diego was tired of the drug trade and looked forward to a quiet life.
The scuba swimmer came to the surface and spotted the pickup boat less than 100 yards away. He swam easily towards the boat congratulating himself on the accuracy of his calculations.
Jesus smiled when he saw the two bags of heroin the swimmer was towing. Good job amigo. Let’s go pick up Diego and call it a night.”
Chapter 6
Par 5 – 525 Yards
Oyster Bay