Chapter 8

Thursday, June 10

There was no wake-up call—only sunlight pushing through the hotel drapes, warm and insistent. I woke feeling surprisingly good. Dad had already slipped out, so the note on the dresser didn’t surprise me:

Downstairs. Coffee shop.

I cleaned up, threw on fresh clothes, and headed down. Dad and Sid were already at a corner table, both halfway through their first cups. Sid looked like he’d slept in his suit. Dad looked like he’d slept in his responsibilities.

Dad glanced up. “Our flight leaves at one. With L.A. traffic, a bigger airport, and the car return, we should check out and leave by ten-thirty.”

I nodded and reached for a menu.

Just then, a bellhop approached with a small envelope. Dad fished for change to tip him while I took the note.

It was addressed to me.

Please call me at this number ASAP. We have to talk about your ‘Control Room and Missions idea.’ — Mike Allen

My eyebrows shot up. I handed the note to Dad. He read it once and stood immediately.

“Let’s find a phone.”

We stepped into the lobby, where a row of payphones lined the wall. Dad handed me the receiver.

“Go ahead.”

I dialed.

“Mike Allen,” came the voice — rushed, breathless.

“Mike, this is Jack Biggs. How may I help you today?”

“Jack — you and your dad need to come in this morning. I showed your command room idea to our new project manager and he’s excited. How soon can you get here?”

I covered the receiver. “Dad ... they want us back.”

Dad took the phone. “Mike, Keith Biggs. Listen — we have to leave the hotel by ten to make a one‑o’clock flight. It’s seven‑thirty now. It’s an hour and a half to get to you, and another hour and a half from your place to the airport. There’s no way we can make it in person.”

He paused, listening.

“Yes, I saw the drawing he gave you. Yes, I think it’s a great concept. No, I wasn’t aware that Man from U.N.C.L.E. wasn’t your franchise. You’re coming out with a new figure and want an exclusive on the concept.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose.

“Mike, let me talk it over with my team and I’ll call you back. Thanks.”

He hung up.

They moved to a sofa in the lobby.

“Well,” Dad said, “you heard my side. What do you think?”

Sid spoke first. “This will work for all action figures. I don’t think we want to limit ourselves to just one.”

I nodded. “Maybe ... if they incentivize us enough, we could offer a six‑month delay before we show it to other companies. Mattel would have the exclusive for Toy Fair in February. Everyone else would be playing catch‑up.”

Dad smiled. “Yes. That’s the angle.”

Sid added, “Make the time period end right before they announce their new figure. If other companies hear about this and we haven’t offered it, they’ll steal it. But if we send a sell sheet, they have to negotiate with us.”

Dad nodded. “Let’s go back to the room. No need for the whole lobby to hear our strategy.”

Sid stood. “I’ll get a coffee service sent up. We won’t have time to come back down.”

“We didn’t eat. How about a couple of muffins?” I asked.

Upstairs, Dad and Jack straightened the room and waited.

“What do you think would incentivize you enough?” Dad asked.

I didn’t hesitate. “Same numbers as the car accessories — but with a small percentage on the figure itself. After all, this will drive up his numbers.”

Dad laughed. “That’s off‑the‑wall thinking ... and I like it.”

Sid arrived with the coffee service, some muffins and bagels. Dad picked up the phone.

“Mike, Keith. Here’s what we’re thinking. Six percent for the Mission Room concept, and we want two percent on the action figure in exchange for not presenting the idea to other companies until you’re ready to reveal your figure.”

A pause.

“Yes, I know that’s highway robbery. But you’re asking us to forgo a lot of money by not offering it elsewhere.”

Another pause.

“Yes, talk it over with Eldon. He can call me directly. Room 1147. We’ll expect your call.”

Dad hung up. “Fifteen minutes to half an hour. Let’s pack so we’re ready if this drags out.”

Sid went next door to pack. Dad and I gathered their things.