Page 90 of Marry Me, Right Now

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VISITOR

I woke up thinking that my life had become too perfect to be true. The sun was rising over the lake and the view from my lavish bedroom was incredible. As I was pouring myself a travel mug of exotic expensive coffee which was brewed moments before I needed it thanks to the fancy timer, I remembered to pack myself lunch from last night’s leftovers, thanks to the fabulous pasta we had for dinner last night.

I knew that Jacob would have preferred I used his car service, but I only did that a few times when it was absolutely pouring rain. I felt impossibly spoiled. The walk to my new gloriously shabby chic office was only twenty-five minutes, thanks to my new incredibly comfortable hiking books that looked stylish enough to wear to meetings, given that my client base usually seemed to look like they had just rolled out of bed.

Arriving around ten am, I was able to get a solid three hours of work done before I took a break for lunch and a cup of tea.

Being able to help the arts community on this level was a thrill I couldn’t begin to describe. These were the people who had never had support of any kind and had to muddle along with no guidance. The clever, dedicated people would study the paths of those who came before them to gain a clue, but for the most part, it was trial and error.

Anything beyond that required plans, training to some degree, and money. It also required some people to shift their mindset slightly, so they weren’t only focused on playing a great show, they were dedicated to getting several more people on their email list. Or getting more people added to their physical mailing list, so that artists could send postcards the week before a gallery show.

I laughed to myself, thinking of last week when a heavy metal band was gathered around the large worktable, meticulously sticking mailing labels and stamps to gorgeous floral postcards. The artist the cards were promoting was busy setting up framing options for a photographer, who would be shooting the band’s next show on Friday.

It was a glorious mess of everyone using whatever resources they had, and everyone trying to pull their own weight. Everyone had something to contribute, it just took a little creative thinking.

One drummer didn’t think that he had any skills that could help, yet he works in a kitchen that regularly has leftover vegetable and fruit platters from the events they cater. After one chat with his manager, the office fridge is now packed with snacks, and I’m able to strongly suggest that everyone eat something healthy every time they drop in.

I had even devised a bribery system, where bands gave their fans free buttons, in return for them signing up for the email list. They had been making it a low key competition, to see which bands could sign up the most people each show. The metal band was even lending their lighting rig to a stage play for a couple of weeks, since the venue’s setup was severely limited.

By pooling resources, every person in the collective was made richer.

I was finally starting to understand Jacob’s family a little more. Their uptown, wealthy circle was a collective dedicated to serving each other. Perhaps it wasn’t to exclude others, it was just to build their own people up first.

As much as my semi-hippie mindset wanted everything to be perfectly egalitarian at all times, I could see the urge to want to take care of your own people first. If you were buying a new car, of course you’d start your search at your next-door neighbor’s car lot. If you were going to join a country club, you’re already familiar with the one that your parents go to, and already have friends there.

I was now able to see that the closed circle might not be closed at all, it was just difficult to see over those high hedges.

It was a bit unnerving how easy it had been for me to start a business, since I had far more money than I needed, and didn’t need to earn any money right away. My plans were tentatively to ask the artists for seven percent of their earnings, after they’d been with the collective for six months. Since my overhead was so low, and I didn’t require a salary, the business would be self-sustaining within the year with my existing crew, and would actually make money if I added a few more clients.

Running the numbers several times in different ways, maybe I could buy a tiny condo in the neighborhood so that I had an investment with very low expenses, and could be a totally self-sufficient entity in about two years.

After focusing on research and building my master contact list for most of the day, Burnt Filth came in for a planning meeting.

As usual, they sprawled all over the couches, as we discussed what sort of website they needed, new merch, and how close they were to having their new album written. The boys were loud, raucous, and hilarious, as always, telling tales of their last show, and how much they were looking forward to their next show in Hamilton.

My shoulders clenched when I heard a certain kind of clicking on the stairs.

“Guys, mother in law,” I hissed, and suddenly they were all sitting up straighter, except for Robbie, who was slumped over in the easy chair, as he had been all through the meeting.

I hurried to the door, opening it graciously. “Rosalind, how lovely to see you.”

“Hello, dear, I–” she saw the guys of Burnt Filth sitting there, smiling politely.

Tim gave a little wave. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hello,” she said hesitantly.

“We’re in the middle of a planning meeting,” I said brightly, “But we could take a break.”

“Could I speak to you for just a moment? I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Sure. Hey guys – finish the list of studios you like in the city. I’ll be right back.” Leading Rosalind to the end of the room, we sat at my desk.

“Mia, I had no idea that those were the sort of people you’re working with.” She was visibly upset.

“Rosalind, it’s a band. They’re very nice guys. They just play music that’s a bit louder than you or I would probably enjoy.” I tried to smile brightly.

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