Chapter 221: Buying In
Frank brought Pinkman over to Sheila's house, then took Sheila and her daughter Karen to handle the company registration paperwork. They were out the entire morning.
In addition to setting up a media company, Frank also registered a chemical company and two shell companies — everything was now officially up and running.
"Why a chemical company?" Pinkman asked, puzzled.
"To help your dear old teacher, Mr. White," Frank replied.
After settling the shell company paperwork and dropping Sheila and Karen off at home, Frank went to visit his lawyer — the overweight woman running a shady little law office barely ten square meters wide, who'd always helped him skate the line on insurance claims.
"Hey, Frankie! Long time no see. I heard you were dead," the lawyer greeted him as he walked in.
"Just rumors," Frank said casually.
"I saw your daughter the other day. Said your wife — that piece of work Monica — came back and is trying to take the kid. Your daughter wants custody."
"Turning in her own family to Child Protective Services, having the kids taken away, tearing the whole home apart... Classic Monica. Never fails to disappoint," the lawyer laughed.
"Let's not talk about that mess. We're divorced now. What about you? What's going on here?" Frank eyed her swollen belly.
She was already on the heavier side, but now she was visibly pregnant — and clearly close to term.
"Oh, not mine. I'm carrying for someone else. Surrogacy. Pays pretty well, actually."
"You really divorced Monica, huh? That's hard to believe. You two were quite the pair — a scumbag and a bitch. Perfect match. Maybe Monica should try surrogacy too — she's already popped out six or seven and still bouncing around like nothing," the lawyer said as she slumped into her chair, tired.
"Anyway, to business. I want to buy into a bar," Frank said, getting to the point after a few more lines of banter.
Some time later, Frank walked out of the office holding a draft contract.
"You got nothing better to do?" he asked as he got in the car and noticed Pinkman following him again.
"No idea what I should be doing," Pinkman said, lighting a cigarette.
Frank had brought Pinkman along just to help with setting up the shell companies. Now that that was done, Pinkman was technically free to go.
But he didn't leave — he just kept tagging along.
Pinkman had never been to Chicago before. It felt new and interesting at first. Frank gave him two days off, and he wandered around town.
But it didn't take long for the novelty to wear off. He didn't know anyone here, didn't belong, and once you've walked the streets a bit, the city just feels... the same. Eventually, he just lay around the hotel, watching TV, bored out of his mind.
In this big, unfamiliar city, the only person he knew was Frank.
"If you got nothing else to do, then just come with me. I've got plenty going on," Frank said.
They headed to the Alibi Room bar and found Kevin.
"Same as usual?" Kevin asked, pouring Frank a beer.
"I'm not here to drink — I'm here to talk business," Frank said.
"What business?" Kevin looked confused.
"What, you already forgot what I said yesterday?" Frank asked.
"Yesterday? What about it?" Kevin set the beer down in front of Frank.
"I'm buying into your bar. I brought the money. All I need is your signature," Frank said, unzipping his backpack to reveal $50,000 in cold, hard cash.
"What the f—?!" Kevin hadn't taken him seriously — until his eyes locked onto the wad of bills in the bag.
"Close it! Close it now!" Kevin snapped, quickly reaching over and zipping the bag shut before Frank could even finish.
"Closing time! We're closed!" he suddenly shouted, waving off customers.
"It's still afternoon," someone grumbled.
"Last drink's on the house! I've got business to deal with!" Kevin said.
Hearing "free last round," the grumbling stopped. People quickly finished their drinks and filed out of the bar.
Once the bar was empty, Kevin didn't even bother cleaning up. He just locked the door and turned to Frank.
"Where the hell did you get that kind of money?" Kevin asked.
"Don't worry about it. It's real cash. I wasn't joking yesterday. I'm buying into the bar. Sign the paperwork, and this fifty grand is yours," Frank said.
Kevin stared, eyes practically glazed.
"I… I need to talk to V first." Overwhelmed, Kevin grabbed Frank and Pinkman and rushed off to see Veronica.
"You're really buying into the bar?" Veronica's voice jumped an octave when she saw the cash.
"Should I sign?" Kevin asked.
"Of course you sign! Only a damn idiot wouldn't sign!" Veronica blurted, terrified Frank might change his mind.
Kevin had been a bartender — never cared about running the business. He just poured drinks and threw out drunk troublemakers. The actual accounting and bar management was always handled by another female bartender.
But after Kevin inherited the place, he realized just how terrible its finances really were.
The bar used to belong to old Stan — a senile, borderline-demented man who hadn't updated licenses or paid wage taxes in years. It was a complete mess.
Fortunately, Joseph bought the place and handed it over to Kevin. His team took care of the worst problems — back payments, legal paperwork, licenses.
If not for that, Kevin would've been looking at immediate closure the day he took over.
Still, even with the legal stuff sorted, no one could manage the business for him — that was on Kevin.
And the business sucked.
How bad? Well, after paying employees, taxes, and operating costs, a good month might bring in $1,000. On a bad month? A few hundred bucks. Total.
Which meant Kevin was earning less as a bar owner than he had as just a bartender.
He and Veronica had tried all sorts of cost-cutting: charging for bar snacks like peanuts, raising drink prices that hadn't changed in years, even charging for using the bathroom.
But it was all just patchwork. Barely made a dent. The bar was barely scraping by and could shut down any day.
Now Frank — this idiot — was willing to drop fifty grand to buy into their disaster of a bar? It was like a gift from the heavens. Never mind shares — if Frank wanted to buy the whole thing, they'd sell it to him on the spot.