“Is there anything you’re willing to give up? Maybe do cheap and then add on later once you’re more profitable?” I asked.
“I know a lot of my plans sound over-the-top and nice, but they really aren’t. I mean, if I put down a cheaper floor, it’ll only cut, what, a thousand maybe off this price? It’ll take me more than that to rip up the floor later and put down what I wanted. In the end, it’ll cost me more money.”
“But it’ll get you up and going for now,” I said.
“Are there any updates to the electrical and plumbing that I could get rid of? All I need is everything to be within code. I don’t need anything fancy.”
“That price is just bringing things up to code.”
She sighed heavily, and I couldn’t help but feel for her. I remembered what it was like getting my business off the ground and the sheer amount of debt Drew and I had to dig ourselves into. I’d had my parent’s reputation behind me with the banks, but she didn’t have anything like that. She struck me as the type of woman that would’ve saved everything she had, and if she borrowed any money, it was probably forced on her by family or some shit.
And right then, I decided I would cut her a deal like I did with the homeless men I hired.
“How about this?” I asked. “I’ll take some of those beautiful paintings of yours as payment, along with whatever you can afford to pay. Do you mind me asking what your financial situation is like?”
“I saved seventy thousand on my own and borrowed thirty thousand from my sister,” she said.
“All right. I’ll take what you saved. Keep what your sister gave you for future expenses. As someone who’s built a business from the ground-up, I can vouch that you’ll need it. Is it a loan?”
“Is what a loan?”
“What your sister gave you,” I said.
“Oh, no. She gave me that in exchange for three percent of the business.”
“Even better. Keep that with you and pay me the seventy thousand you’ve saved up, minus what you dished off the top to buy this place. I’ll take some of your artwork as payment for the rest of the work, but there are some conditions.”
“Name them,” she said breathlessly.
“I intend to hire some homeless men for the project. I do it with all my projects. It’s my way of giving back and reaching out to the community. Some of them will be detoxing from drug use, but they’ll be attending regular addiction specialist sessions I’ll set up. My rules with them are that they have to work hard and never come to work high. The moment they do, they’re gone.”
“That’s incredible,” she said. “I mean that you do that with your projects. All of them?” she asked.
“Yep. My second condition is that I’ll take the personal point on supervising the project. I won’t use one of my regular foremen. I want to see this project through.”
“I figured you would anyway,” she said, shrugging.
“Usually, I don’t take that type of hands-on approach.”
“Why now?” she asked.
I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Because my brother was an incredible artist when he wasn’t high? Because I enjoyed her desire to reach out to the community? Because I believed in the premise of her gallery? Because I thought it would be fun?
Because she was radiant?
“With the money I’m charging you and the lower rates, I won’t be able to hire but about one or two of my regular guys. The rest of the money will go to pay the homeless men on the project. That means another expert hand will need to be there to help coach them through things. Teach them the trade while we build up your gallery,” I said.
“Oh. That makes sense.”
Why did I sense disappointment in her voice?
Probably because she didn’t like the idea. But who would? A bunch of homeless men traipsing in and out of her fancy art gallery. Some tattooed guy who loomed over her at six-foot-two wielding construction equipment. The risk of one of the men showing up high and ruining something on-site. It was a big risk she was taking, no matter how you spun it. But I wanted to cut her a deal. I wanted to help her get this art gallery off the ground.
She probably didn’t even believe me when I told her I loved art yesterday, but I did. Maybe that’s why I was so keen on helping her with her project.
But to my shock, she sprang up from her seat and threw her arms around me. She giggled into my ear, her smile pressing into my shoulder as her body almost took mine to the ground. She had some force behind her curves, and my hands descended onto her back before I could even think. She was thanking me over and over again in my ear as her body cloaked mine, but all I could focus on was her back and how smooth and warm it was underneath the calloused palms of my hands.
I felt my heart rate speed up a bit as my palms began to sweat. She pulled back and smiled at me, her eyes sparkling like they had in my dream. I smiled back as I felt a flush creep up my spine, threatening to spill over onto my neck where she could see.