by Sean Lowe
“Oh,” Brooke purred. “She’s beautiful. What should I name her?”
“What about . . . Lola?” I offered. It seemed to fit.
“Lola?” Brooke said the word and thought about it for a few seconds. “Perfect!”
We watched as the newly named Lola scampered across the floor, her tail wagging so hard it moved half her body.
Normally, dogs are wary of newcomers, but Lola took to Brooke and me within seconds. This, incidentally, was about how much time it took me to fall in love with this silly, sweet, and mischievous puppy.
“I’ve got to get me one of these,” I said as Lola ran around.
“You should do it!” Brooke said. “Get Lola a best friend.”
It wasn’t hard to convince me. When I saw an ad in the paper for Labrador retriever puppies, I went to see the litter full of yellow labs. Right there in the middle was a single chocolate one.
I had to have her.
“Look at her paws!” Brooke said, gently picking up the puppy and admiring her features. “They’re gigantic!”
“It helps them swim,” said the breeder.
“We have to take her to the beach!” she exclaimed. Brooke was originally from Florida, and I suspected sand ran through her veins instead of blood.
“What are you going to name her?” she asked as she nuzzled the dog’s neck.
Lola walked over to the puppy so they could do the dog equivalent of a handshake—they sniffed each other out.
“What about Ellie?”
Immediately, Ellie and Lola became inseparable. Anytime we went to the dog park, they would run and play together—no matter how many other dogs were there. If I needed to know where Ellie was, all I had to do was find Lola, and vice versa. We would take turns having both dogs sleep at each other’s house. We even crate-trained them together, so they slept in the same space as puppies. They were so close.
Ellie’s intelligence and eagerness to please made her very easy to train. Within three weeks, she was housebroken because she couldn’t bear to disappoint me. Over the months, she became strong, agile, enthusiastic, and—best of all—glued to my hip.
Lola and Ellie became “our dogs,” and having them made us feel—just a little—like a family.
Things were very comfortable with Brooke, except when it came to one thing.
Marriage.
Whenever the subject came up, things got awkward really fast for me. I loved her. Brooke was funny, playful, compassionate, and always going out of her way to surprise me or to help me out in some way. She was my best friend, and I could definitely see marrying her. However, I was far, far away from wanting to walk down the aisle.
“You tensed up when I brought up our future,” Brooke said one night. “I just don’t get it.”
There comes a time when honesty is the only policy left.
“It’s just that I’m doing all kinds of different things right now,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “I’m pursuing different career options and trying to figure out where life will take me.”
“Where it will take us, you mean?” she said softly.
I grew quiet.
She cleared her throat, pushing back emotion, and said, “We’ve been together for three years, Sean. Three! That’s a long time for you not to know how you feel about me.”
“Don’t you know I love you?” I asked.
There’s something that happens when one half of the couple is ready to tie the knot and the other isn’t. My unwillingness to make a lifelong commitment made me treat Brooke differently, maybe a little more distantly. Of course, she picked up on that. I looked into her green eyes, which now had tears streaming from them.
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “We’re as close as family.”
I definitely didn’t want her out of my life. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, it seemed so final. Instead of breaking up, I suggested a less-final version.
“I think we need some time apart,” I said.
She started crying. For the past three years, she had assumed we were on the path to marriage. However, I just couldn’t get there at that time in my life.
“No, no,” I said. I loved her so much that I couldn’t bear the sound of her crying. My strongest desire at that moment was to console her. “Let’s just see how it goes and reexamine it in a few weeks.”
We sat next to each other on the couch, a million miles of expectations separating us.
For the next few weeks, we were technically on a break.
She went out of town to sort through her feelings about our relationship and called me one afternoon.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I picked up the phone.
“I’m great, actually,” she said. The tremor in her voice I heard during our last conversation was completely gone. “I just wanted you to know that I understand where you’re coming from about our breakup.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sean, I’ll always love you, but I think you’re right. We should break up.”
I knew in my head this was good, but this turnaround—and her confidence—surprised me.
“Really?” I said. “Oh, okay. Great. I’m glad. Really.” I wanted what was best for Brooke, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. “Well, I hope everything goes well for you.”
And so a new phase of life began.
After work, I’d go out with my guy friends. Or, even better, I’d go out on dates with women I met at the gym, at church, or through friends. After three years of seriously dating the same woman, it was pretty exhilarating. Honestly, I didn’t give Brooke much thought, except when I saw her to let the dogs visit. Even though we’d broken up, we couldn’t simply yank the dogs from each other. Ellie, the sensitive chocolate lab, was technically mine, and Lola, the happy-go-lucky boxer, was technically hers.
“We’ve gotta figure out what to do,” Brooke said. “We can’t just keep going back and forth like this.”
“But we can’t separate them forever,” I said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know,” she said thoughtfully, biting her lip. “But what can we do?”
Absent an obvious solution, we’d take them back and forth, from my place to hers. I’d have the dogs for several days, and then we’d switch, like divorced parents trying to juggle custody of children.
One night when she came over to get Ellie and Lola, she noticed I was dressed up to go out. “You’re not going on a date, are you?” She looked away from me and down at Lola.
“No,” I lied. Brooke was the nicest girl in the world, and there was no way I wanted to hurt her. I gave her a hug good-bye and then went on a date with whomever it was that week. I loved the freedom of going wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Life was good.
Three months later, I got the wind knocked out of me.
“Did you hear Brooke is dating a professional baseball player?” someone at the gym mentioned to me.
I hadn’t.
At that moment—standing next to the weights—it finally hit me. I’d lost my best friend, and she was never coming back.
Immediately, I went to her apartment. “I think I may have made the biggest mistake of my life,” I told her. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re telling me this now?”
“It just hit me,” I said. “I’ve made a mistake!”
“If we were meant to be together,” she said sweetly, putting her hand on my shoulder, “you wouldn’t have gone this long without telling me this. I want to be with someone who can’t live a day without me, much less a few months.”
In hindsight she was right, but I didn’t believe her at the time. I was heartbroken.
“If things work out with the ball player,” she said, “we’re going to have to move around a lot and travel.”
“What about Lola?” I asked. “How can you keep her if you’re traveling everywhere?”
“I know it’ll be complicated,” she said. “But she’s my dog and I’ll figure i
t out.”
“It’s not a matter of figuring it out,” I said. “She’s not small enough to take her with you.”
“Well, I can’t give her up,” she said. “Worst-case scenario? I’ll give her to my mom to keep while we’re gone.”
“Your mom? That’s not fair!” I said, though it was perfectly fair. I had no claim on Lola. I was just incredibly emotional because I’d already lost Brooke. I didn’t want to lose Lola too.
“You’re acting like she’s your dog!”
“Well, I love her like she’s mine.”
“Sorry, Sean,” Brooke said gently. “It’s all over.”
When I went home to my apartment, I think Ellie was almost as depressed as I was. I sat on the couch with her, buried my head in the fur on her neck, and sighed. “What have I done?”
I plunged myself into my somewhat boring work. One day, however, something happened that would potentially change the course of my life.
I was talking to an investor on the phone when my coworker Josh Brown walked in. I lifted my index finger to him as I wrapped up the conversation. “And there are permanent tax benefits.”
I finished up my call and jotted down notes on the potential investor. By this time, another guy—Donald Wallman—had popped into my office as well.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked. Though we had a very friendly office, our workload was so heavy we had little time to socialize.
“We have an offer for you,” Don said.
“Lay it on me,” I said. I always was interested in new ways to make money.
“You know how to raise money,” said Josh. He had blond, floppy hair and the casual air of being born into wealth. He took a sip of coffee and spread out several pieces of paper on my desk like a fan. “Check this out.”
I picked up the paper and realized they were spreadsheets.
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
“This is your future,” Don said.
“I don’t see anything about mineral leases.”
“Because it’s not about oil or gas. It’s called debt settlement, and it’s the hottest way to make money now. People are making some crazy cash from this,” Don said.
“So are you going to make me guess what it is?” I asked.
“It’s simple,” Josh jumped in. “Someone with a lot of debt calls us up and tells us about their situation. It’s usually someone on the verge of bankruptcy, someone with medical issues that make it hard to pay their bills, someone who doesn’t have insurance or whatever.”
“They get calls from people they owe every day,” Don said. “And they’re desperate to make that phone stop ringing.”
“That’s where we come in,” said Josh.
“So they give us names of their creditors and the amount they owe. We then give them an estimate for reducing their debt, along with a new, lower monthly payment. They stop paying their creditors and instead send payments to us as their new debt settler.”
“So they pay us first?” I asked.
“You got it,” Josh said. “Then their other payments go into a trust that’s for their debt.”
“And then we pay the creditors?”
“We negotiate the amounts and time frame with the creditors,” Don said. “We deal directly with the people they owe, and it gives our client a little breathing room.”
I picked up a sheet of paper that had the data on the number of people in bad financial situations. Poor guys, I thought. I didn’t want to say so immediately, but it seemed like a great way to help people and make a lot of money.
“Will you consider it?” Don asked. “We can handle all the back-end aspects of the business, but we need you out there talking to the people.”
For the next few weeks, I mulled over the numbers, which seemed to paint a positive picture. Though no business is ever guaranteed, it seemed as though Josh and Don were right. There was money right there for the taking.
A lot of money.
One morning, I walked down the hall and found them both near the coffeemaker.
“Hey, guys.” I smiled. “I think we’re going to be partners.”
“What is social science?” Andrew asked one day when I stopped by his office—his insurance office—that he’d set up after he got out of the NFL.
“You know,” I said, maybe a little defensively. “It’s about understanding the workings of . . . human society.”
“And that qualifies you to . . . ?” he asked, waiting for me to elaborate. “Ask rich guys to invest in fracking? Why don’t you get a normal job?”
“I don’t want a normal job,” I said before looking around at his surroundings. “No offense.”
“You think this is bad?” He knocked on his mahogany desk, which was neatly arranged—a stack of papers on his left, a wedding photo of Shay and him on the corner. “I make my own hours, my income is up to me, and I answer to myself.”
I’d heard this make-your-own-hours argument from my grandfather, who had been an insurance salesman, and from my dad, who had followed in his footsteps. The business had served our family well, but I didn’t want to hear it from Andrew. I’d always known the family business wasn’t for me. I thought of myself as more of a risk taker, and insurance felt safe. Boring. I felt destined to do something big. Something interesting. Something that didn’t require slacks or a tie.
“I’m a bit more entrepreneurial,” I said. “A couple of guys from work asked me to check out this thing called debt settlement.”
“You’re in debt?” he asked, his eyebrows arched in concern.
“I don’t have debt,” I said hurriedly. That was mostly true, if you didn’t count the Visa bill I’d run up during college. “They want me to be a part of a new company that helps other people who have debt. Like, a lot of debt. It’s super profitable right now, and people are making a ton of money.”
“Like debt consolidation?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “We don’t lump it all into one big sum of debt. We help negotiate down people’s debts with their debtors.”
“Sounds like a scam.” Andrew laughed and tossed a wadded piece of paper. He banked the paper wad off the wall, and it fell into the trash can in the corner. “Haven’t you heard of those guys taking advantage of poor people?”
“Yeah, but that’s not what we do, obviously. Anyway,” I said, getting up from his uncomfortable office chair, “let’s continue this riveting conversation over dinner.” I stood up, took one look around his office, and sighed. Though some people can look at an office space and feel at home, to me it felt like a prison.
“Wanna grab something to eat?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late.”
“Tonight’s Monday,” Andrew said.
“You don’t eat on Mondays?”
“Yes, but it’s always in front of the television.”
“Oh, so you’re a couch potato now?” I asked.
“Shay and I watch television that night.”
“Is there a good game on?” I asked. “I’ll grab a bite to eat and come over too.”
“It’s not athletic,” he said sheepishly. “It’s . . . The Bachelor.”
I looked at him silently for a moment.
“Sorry,” I said, walking to the door, turning around, and looking back at him. “I was under the mistaken impression that you were a guy.”
“I’m a married guy,” he said. “There’s a big difference.” Apparently, this All-American, former NFL player had let my sister convince him to watch girly television.
Every week.
I walked out of his office, glad I wasn’t an insurance salesman and glad I wasn’t married.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” I said to myself after I turned my phone off and took a deep breath. I’d just gotten another investor signed on to our new business venture, which we’d named Beller Financial Services.
I wrote down this figure on a piece of paper, along with the other investments, and put them all in one—rather long�
��column. Just like grade school.
Being in charge of getting investment money for our new debt settlement company, I knew our chances of success sat squarely on my shoulders. At least initially.
I practiced my long addition, then added up the numbers one more time to check my math. Then I grabbed my phone and texted Josh and Don the same, simple message: Five hundred thousand dollars.
Within seconds, they were both at my door.
“You did it?”
“Five hundred thousand!” I said. “I just got this last bit.”
“Who?” Don asked.
“A guy I know named Jim Perryman.”
“Is he one of your oil and gas guys?”
“No,” I said with a little bit of pride. I was happy that I’d been able to find investors outside of my oil and gas contacts. I knew Jim from a mutual friend. “He just retired from IBM and wants to make some money for his daughter’s wedding.”
“You’re good,” said Don, pointing at me. “This guy is good!”
“I couldn’t do it without you guys,” I said. This wasn’t false modesty. I was the guy who sold people on our idea. Josh and Don were the ones who would make it work on the business side. Because so much money was being made in this industry, it was an easier sale than the long-term oil and gas investments.
“I have to admit,” I said, “half a million dollars is a lot of money for a bunch of guys in their midtwenties.”
We high-fived, laughed, and talked about what we were going to do when this made us rich. But first we had to get everything in order. Our business had grown so big there was no way we could keep operating it in our spare time.
A few weeks later, I got to see our future up close.
“This is ours?” I asked, walking through the carpeted hallways of our new office building in the Dallas financial district.
“Well, it’s not ours ours,” said Josh. “We’re just renting.”
“Can we afford it?” I asked.
“It’s all thanks to you,” Don said.
“Do I dare ask how much the rent is?” I asked. Though I wasn’t involved in the business aspects of our new venture, I knew how much money was coming in. I think the financial term for it was a lot! This new space was going to be the hub of our ever-growing practice.
