The Startup Play

The soft chime of the elevator announced Lex's arrival at the sleek, minimalistic offices of Rizz. The dating app's logo—a flickering flame—glowed faintly on the glass walls of the lobby. It wasn't flashy, but it was clean.

Lex stepped through the entrance, dressed sharp but casual, his coat draped over one arm. The receptionist barely glanced up from her screen. Small team. Small space. Good.

A man emerged from the open-concept workspace—early 30s, thin, with a nervous energy that hovered around him like static. His name was Adam Lee, the founder Natalie had mentioned.

"Lex Latham?" Adam asked, adjusting his glasses. His handshake was firm, but Lex could feel the slight tremble in his grip.

"Nice to meet you," Lex said smoothly. "Natalie Zhang spoke highly of you."

Adam laughed awkwardly. "Natalie's generous. She probably didn't tell you that we're bleeding users faster than we're gaining them."

Lex smiled faintly, letting the comment hang for a moment. "She did," Lex admitted, "but she also said your tech's better than anything else in the market. It's not the app—it's the rollout. You're competing in the wrong spaces."

Adam's eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't expecting Lex to be this direct.

"Alright," Adam said, gesturing toward a small conference room. "Let's talk."

Lex followed him inside, dropping his coat over the chair before sitting down.

Adam slid a laptop in front of him, pulling up charts and projections. "Here's the reality," Adam began. "We had a strong launch, but growth plateaued. We've got 30,000 active users, mostly through college campuses and niche events. But our churn rate is high. Retention's killing us."

Lex scanned the numbers.

He saw it. The problem wasn't the product—it was the target.

"You're trying to fight Tinder on their turf," Lex said, his tone calm but deliberate. "That's a mistake."

Adam sat back, his expression tightening. "We don't have a choice. Our investors want to see national growth."

"Your investors are wrong," Lex said flatly. He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Rizz isn't built for the masses—not yet. It's built for moments. You don't need to go national. You need to go deep."

Adam frowned, his hands clasped on the table. "Go deep how?"

Lex leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as if letting Adam in on a secret. "You lean into curated spaces. Small, exclusive environments where people are already primed to connect. Festivals. Pop-ups. College parties. Bars with themed nights. You make Rizz the app people associate with unforgettable weekends."

Adam's eyes narrowed as he considered it. "You're saying we shrink?"

"I'm saying you focus," Lex replied smoothly. "You burn less cash and build loyalty instead of chasing numbers. When you scale, it won't feel forced—it'll feel inevitable."

Adam tilted his head, skepticism creeping into his tone. "And how do you suggest we do that without a massive marketing budget?"

Lex smirked faintly. "You don't need a massive budget. You need partnerships. Bars, event organizers, smaller music festivals—they're always looking for ways to stand out. Offer them co-branding opportunities. Rizz becomes their exclusive app for event check-ins, special deals, or VIP perks. In return, they market Rizz for you."

Adam's fingers tapped against the table, his eyes flicking between Lex and the laptop. Slowly, the idea started to click.

"You're suggesting we... infiltrate the nightlife scene?" Adam asked, a small smile forming.

"I'm suggesting you make Rizz a necessity for the nightlife scene," Lex said. "If people associate your app with their best nights out, they'll keep it on their phones—and keep coming back."

Adam's laugh was short but genuine. "Natalie said you were still in high school. I thought this was going to be some trust-fund kid trying to sound smart."

Lex's grin widened slightly. "It is. But I also know how this works."

Adam exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, Lex. What's your offer?"

Lex leaned back, casual but deliberate.

"One-fifty. I'll put in $150,000 to buy equity at your current valuation. I don't want control, just a seat on the advisory board. In return, I'll help you lock in exclusive event partnerships. You focus on the tech—I'll handle the rest."

Adam's eyes widened slightly. "You're serious?"

"I don't play games with money," Lex said simply.

Adam hesitated, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "Lex… we've been turned down by almost everyone else. Why take the risk?"

Lex's smile didn't waver.

"Because I know you're not just another app. I've seen how this plays out. People don't realize they need something until it's right in front of them. Rizz's ahead of the curve."

Adam exhaled slowly, processing the offer. After a moment, he extended his hand.

"You've got a deal."

Lex shook his hand firmly.

One more piece on the board.

Barnie was playing for buildings and stocks. Lex was buying the future, one startup at a time.