Every Night (Brush of Love 1)

The first business I remembered there had been this little antique shop. Closed its doors within a few months. Then a pet daycare tried to make its way in there, attempting to profit off the beach goers with pets that never quite made it down this far onto the coast. Closed within a year and never came back. The place had been vacant for over a year before an elderly couple invested their retirement savings into opening a bar, and that actually flourished for a bit. But when the husband died and the wife hired someone to take over the place, the new manager eventually bought them out and then drove the bar into the ground.

Ever since, it had sat vacant. It had been vandalized time and time again. I’d seen people scurrying out with old bar chairs and the older-than-dirt cash register. I’d seen people busting out the windows, and I’d try to shoo them away. It really was a decent building with good bones, but it just sat in a terrible part of town.

I couldn’t imagine anything other than a bar surviving in a place like this.

I headed into the diner where Drew flagged me down. We sat down and ordered and then got straight down to business. We had some places I scouted that I wanted to talk about developing, which meant taking on more projects.

And at the rate we were going right now, that meant bringing on new hires.

“So, whaddaya got for me?” Drew asked.

“There are two other places I’m all for building up,” I said.

“Any chance they’re commercial properties?” he asked.

“No. They’re not. They’re still residential. I enjoy the idea of helping people find a home. An affordable home, especially in a bustling city like this one. There’s no reason why we can’t get them affordable housing. San Diego is booming and is hiring more people than ever, but they can’t get anyone to work here because they can’t afford to live within the city limits. I want to change that.”

“I totally hear you, dude. I’m just saying. You could really rake it in with the commercial properties. Especially if you rented the shit and stuff,” he said.

“Then why don’t we create a new division? You head up commercial properties, and I’ll head up residential properties?”

“Dude, are you fucking serious?” he asked.

“You gotta help me with these two projects, and then we can talk,” I said.

“You got it. So, whatcha thinkin’?” he asked.

“That mobile home project is almost finished on the other end of town, and I’m liking how it’s turning out. I was thinking about taking this bigger property here and doing another mobile home one and then taking the slightly smaller property and doing tiny houses.”

“What?” he asked.

“Tiny houses. You know, houses less than one thousand square feet. That shit’s all the rage right now. We could offer people plans and floor layouts, and we’d get the same amount of money out of the smaller property as we would the larger one. Homes would still be affordable, these would still be customizable like the mobile homes, and since these tiny homes are stationary, they’d still be outfitted with all the modern amenities.”

“Like internet and plumbing,” he said.

“Yep. Thoughts?”

“I think the tiny house movement is still a small movement. You’re dedicating yourself to selling, what, twenty of them? Twenty-five?”

“The lot would hold twenty-three,” I said.

“You think you can sell that many tiny homes to people? People with kids?” he asked.

“The jobs opening up in San Diego aren’t jobs people with kids usually take, though. Delivery drivers, full-time cashiers, delicatessen experts, which is just a fancy way of saying ice cream scooper. All these jobs need to be filled, but where are these people going to live in a city like San Diego working for twelve dollars an hour?” I asked.

“You got a point.”

“If we could keep these tiny house monthly payments under three hundred a month, they’d sell like fucking hotcakes. I’m tellin’ you, it’s going to be big. Affordable housing, lower bills, more people get to have a roof over their heads they can be proud of, and everyone wins.”

“I’ve always trusted your instincts, man,” Drew said. “If you’re good, I’m good. Though I don’t really get why you’re still so hands on.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m over here workin’ all the higher-up business stuff, dude. Corporate shit. That life’s much easier than what you’re doing. Not as many hours, not as much stress. Why are you so insistent on staying so hands on?”

“Someone’s got to be,” I said.

“You don’t wanna take it easy? At all? I mean, you’re workin’ yourself to the bone, my man. It’s time to take a breather and bask in your glory.”