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Chapter 12
The next few days were pure magic. Millie and her parents visited us often, but most of our time was spent on our own. We swam in the lagoon, went exploring, and tanned in the sun. We read books, and listened to music, and Wes filled his sketchbook. We fucked again and again, and each time we grew even closer.
But more than anything, we talked. No subject was too big or too small. We found more common ground than I ever would have imagined, in terms of politics, and global issues, and a million other things. We also explored all the ways we were different, which challenged our perspectives and led to some good-natured debates. I was so grateful for the time we had to really, truly get to know each other.
On Friday morning, Wes and I lingered over a late breakfast on the deck in one of the hotel’s restaurants. After a while, he asked, “What do you think about buying a nightclub?”
I looked up from the last piece of my Belgian waffle, which I was using to sop up the syrup on my plate. “As an investment?”
“In part. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you said about competing for jobs in a limited market, and one solution would be to open your own venue. Not only would you be able to work as a DJ as long as you wanted to, you’d also generate revenue from the club itself.”
“You and I don’t know anything about running a club,” I reminded him, “and it’s a ton of work.”
“We could hire people to run it for us.”
“It’s a good thought, but it’d just be way too expensive to get something like that up and running. Plus, there’s no guarantee it’d end up making money,” I said.
“The expense doesn’t concern me. I just want you to feel secure in your job.”
I reached across the table and took his hand. “You’re amazing, Wes. Thank you for wanting to help me with my career. But there’s no way I’d let you waste tons of money on a club you didn’t want, just to give me some job security.”
“I have another idea,” he said. “This one involves a much smaller capital investment. I did some research and learned about pop-up events put on by concert promoters. Apparently they rent out different venues for a night, then arrange a line-up of DJs, advertise, and sell tickets. I’m the first to admit I know very little about this, but it seems like a good idea. We’d just have to hire a promoter and pay for the venue, then organize events once or twice a month with you as the headliner. You’d have total control over your career, and with a share of the ticket sales, you’d probably also have a significant boost in income.”
“That would be fantastic,” I said, “but I couldn’t ask you to pay for something like that.”
“I thought you’d say that, and I have an idea. You told me you want to return the eighteen thousand I paid you for this trip, but I have absolutely no intention of taking it back. As a compromise, what if you used that money to invest in your first pop-up event? You know people in the industry, and I bet you could find the right promoter to help make it a success. After that, you could use part of the profit from your first event to pay for the second one, and so on.”
“How is this a compromise? It’s just me not giving you your money back.”
“But it would mean a lot to me to know you invested it in your future.” It was hard to argue with him when he was being so sincere.
I thought about it for a few moments, then said, “This really could be life-changing, and I like the idea of making something happen, instead of waiting and hoping someone else will give me my big break. So, what if I go ahead and use the money like you suggested, then pay you back out of the profits?”
He grinned at me. “You’re so stubborn.”
“I know. I’ve been on my own for so long that I barely know how to react when someone offers to help me. But I really do appreciate it.” I finished my coffee before asking, “When did you have time to research this pop-up idea?”
“Yesterday, when you fell asleep on top of me in the hammock. I was pinned down for over an hour.”
I laughed and told him, “Next time, just shove my skinny ass over and free yourself.”
“Who says I wanted to be free?” I picked up his hand and kissed the knuckle. Then he gestured at my nearly empty plate and asked, “All done?”
I popped the last bit of waffle in my mouth and nodded. “Thank you. That was delicious.”
