The fitness equipment business is cutthroat. And let me tell you, COVID made my life a living hell. I've been selling fitness equipment for almost fifteen years, but nothing could prepare me for the lockdown of 2020. Gyms across the country shut down suddenly. The gyms that did manage to survive the summer were running on fumes and in no place financially to repair older sets, much less invest in new gear. Peleton and at-home equipment were selling like fire, but my gym accounts closed their doors for good every day.
I was desperate.
So, when my old client Brian called me to say he was looking to open a new gym that could operate within social distancing guidelines, I was ecstatic. And worried. I knew the competition for this account would be fierce.
Brian had just returned from Florida, where he was scouting new locations and partners for his boutique fitness centers. I could see the writing on the wall that he would relocate his headquarters out of my region. I found it odd he was even entertaining quotes in New Jersey, but I was too eager for the sale to question the logic. I accepted Brian's invitation to meet at his office to look at the layouts and plans.
It was a hot afternoon in mid-August when I arrived at the empty business park for the meeting. Only two other cars were in the parking lot, including Brian's Range Rover. As the elevator doors closed to lift me to the 4th floor, my nerves started to take hold of me. I knew this was my one shot at landing a lucrative deal. Brian has a reputation for being a shrewd negotiator. He's all business, different from the typical gym operator who lifts weights first and asks questions never. Those are the guys I could win over by flashing low prices in my high heels. But as I was nervously waiting in the elevator, I instinctively unbuttoned the top two buttons on my blouse before the elevator doors reopened.
The sleek three-office suite was eerily quiet and baron when I entered. I gently called out "hello?" twice, but no response. Although I wouldn't say I was a regular supplier to Brian's company, I had been in the office enough to feel comfortable letting myself into the conference room. The table was filled with binders, blueprints, and pieces of an architectural model of a fitness center.
As I started to look closer at the model, I heard the office door open and Brian's voice, "Rebecca?"
"Yes, I am in the conference room," I replied. Brian entered the conference room looking much less kept than I expected. I had only ever seen Brian in business attire, clean-shaven and professional. But today, he seems like he hasn't slept in a week and is wearing shorts and a tattered polo shirt. We exchanged pleasantries, and he thanked me for being willing to meet with him.
"Of course," I replied, "I think we are all chomping at the bit to get life back to normal, huh? What a mess the world is in."
"I know. I've closed all of my locations indefinitely, laid off my entire staff, yet I am working twice as many hours," Brian said, exasperated.
Over the next twenty minutes, Brian showed me the prints and crude model of the fitness center. He explained how he had been to Florida recently and toured gyms that he wanted to replicate in the northeast. The gym floor featured much more space than usual, arranged in pods surrounded by tinted glass doors and self-sanitizing faucets to clean the equipment after each use. I tried to stay engaged but was preoccupied with adding up the potential equipment sale with every turn of the blueprints. Then Brian said something that snapped me back to the present.
"Wait, potential partners?" I asked. I had always known Brian to be a sole proprietor. "Who are you going in with?"
"Yeah, the guys from Fort Lauderdale I mentioned," he reminded me. I nodded and smiled as he continued, "That's the trick. I am out of capital, and banks won't even pick up the phone lately. These guys have money to spend and think they can get into New York City while the market is down. I don't know about that, but I think I have them convinced that north jersey would be a good first step. Working with me would help them get close to the city."
I could tell there was something else Brian wanted to say but was reluctant, so I prodded him. "Sounds like a great opportunity for everyone. I am not going to sugarcoat it. I need this sale just as badly as you need it. What's the timetable? What's the next step?"
"Yeah, well, these guys… they are coming up to New York next week to scout a few locations, including mine. They're… well, they're… interesting guys, let's put it that way. Business down there is much different than business up here…." Brian sheepishly explained.
I was now certain Brian needed to tell me something important. "Florida's a different culture down there. Is there something I could help you with?" I asked.
“Well… no… I mean, yes, maybe. These guys like to show off, are flashy, loud, and like to party. I'm not like that. It's awkward. I don't speak their language. I feel this deal slipping, and if next week doesn't go well, they'll move past me. I was hoping we could work this together; you could handle the equipment and help schmooze them up?"
"Yeah, whatever I can do," I quickly replied.
"Great! Oh my, thank you!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, I was just concerned…" he stuttered, "we can be a good team on this, I think."
Brian was nervous but determined. He told me he was picking them up from the airport next Thursday and asked if I would meet them for dinner and tour the space. I agreed, and we solidified the plans. As we walked out of the office, Brian paused and said, "it's going to be a good time. Get ready to party, haha."
"I will. I am excited," I reassured him.
"They'll be excited to see you, that's for sure. Wear something fun," Brian said.
"Fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, I mean, don't feel like… wear what you are comfortable in. I mean, I think… these guys, you know, they like parties and…" Brian stammered.
"Oh yeah, I got it, no worries, I know how to let loose," I laughed.
It's Thursday at 6:30 pm as I drive out of the Holland Tunnel heading towards the address Brian gave me. My car announces a text message from Brian, "We are leaving the airport now. Meet you in an hour. I will need to brief you when we arrive."
I park my car in a nearby garage and walk to the address. I knew what Brian was insinuating, to dress provocatively, and I did. I wear 6" heels, a tight, backless red dress, and as much cleavage as legally allowable. The city streets are empty and peaceful because of the lockdown. I arrive at the address and realize it's a residential highrise. The doorman lets me in and confirms I am on the guest list. I go up to the 28th floor of the private elevator directly into a luxurious apartment. I settle in and make myself a drink from the bar. Before long, I got a text from Brian that they had arrived. Within a few minutes, the elevator doors open, and two loud men pour out, with Brian behind them.
"Where the fucking drinks at, man!" yells one to the other.
I stand up to introduce myself, and the second guy makes eye contact with me and says, "Well, hello there. And who might you be, angel?"
"Hi, I am Rebecca, so nice to…."
"NO FUCKING WAY, MAN, no fucking way this your wife, Brian," he says as he swings his head back to Brian.
Brian quickly walks next to me and laughs. He then pulls me aside and promptly tells me he will explain later. The two men drop their bags, head directly to the bar, and pour large liquor glasses.
The short, stocky man introduces himself, "I am Cedro, and this is Riel." He leans in to hug me and kisses my cheek. He smells like cologne and alcohol. Riel repeats the same embrace. Both men are dressed in expensive clothing and diamond jewelry. I know enough to understand they are probably affiliated with some mafia group. They are loud, confident, and boisterous.
