Page 13 of Perfect Pitch

“At those prices? I hope so. What about income?”

“The average DJ makes between $300-$1200 an hour. And”—I flip to the last page and tap the letter from Club—“if I can play a few sets, I’ll have a hell of a resume builder.”

My mother’s lips fall open. “That much?”

“Yes. And, Mama?” I go on to explain the average number of last-minute DJ cancellations for weddings and other celebrations. “I don’t think I’ll be out of work for long. More importantly, I’ll be happy.”

My mother whispers, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” Then quickly tacks on, “That’s not a yes. I want to sit down and study some serious numbers, Austyn.”

“But I’ve already done that,” I explain, disturbed by the fact.

That’s when my mother reminds me of the tax implications for her by removing my college fund. I wince. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

She pulls my chin around. “Austyn, my most important job is to give you your heart’s desire. Second to that, it’s to prepare you to give them to yourself. Let’s just double-check everything, okay?”

Moisture burns in my eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

My mother smooths her hand over my hair. “Every single day, darling. And I love you more than that.”

I reach up and grab her hand. “Thank you for not blowing me off.” What’s always left unsaid is, The way my father did.

“I would never do that. Just give me some time to do my own research. Then we’ll come together and work on a plan we can both live with.”

I launch myself forward into my mother’s arms, whispering over and over, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She chuckles. Even I hear the watery mixture to her laughter. “Don’t thank me, baby. You’re the one who will have to do all the work.”

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

JUNE: FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO—NEW YORK CITY

Nothing is a turnoff like dating in New York except maybe searching for a place to live when you don’t have a million dollars to spend.

—Moore You Want

I chew on my lip before sending off the prepared text message to “Trevor”—a complete stranger who is advertising through an agent in Fort Washington, New York. It’s not my ideal neighborhood, but after scouring the newspapers and college boards for roommates wanted, my mother came up with the idea of contacting a Realtor after she and I sat cross-legged in my hotel room amid most of my belongings. “Sweetheart, this is New York City. Some of the best real estate isn’t going to be listed for just anyone to find.”

“I don’t know about that, Mama,” I worried.

“I’ll make you a deal, Austyn.” She shifts as she gets comfortable in the hotel chair. “If you go through an agent to find a safe place to live, I’ll cover the fee.”

“Mama, you don’t have to do that,” I protested.

“For my own peace of mind, I do,” she retorted.

After I contacted a boutique agent, not far from the hotel I’m staying in, they found me a potential gem.

Austyn:

Hello, I am interested in the room you have available in Fort Washington. I am new to the city and am looking for a clean, quiet place to live. Can you tell me more about the apartment and your ideal roommate?

Trevor

Hello, Austyn! Thanks for reaching out. The apartment is a three bedroom, one and a half bathroom. It’s modernized, but it was originally built in the 1900s and still has all the original charm. There’s a large foyer, den, and a surprisingly big kitchen by New York standards. Hardwood floors throughout without nine-and-a-half foot ceilings. The bedroom you would be renting is fully furnished with a queen size bed, dresser, and closet. As for my ideal roommate? Do you know you’re the first who has asked me that?

Austyn:

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