Chapter 166: Eager to Give Money
[Chapter 166: Eager to Give Money]
Ryan thought it was just going to be a formality, a quick couple of "love yourself, love God" phrases to get through.
To his surprise, as he stepped on stage, the hall erupted in loud boos.
"What's he doing here?"
"He's made things worse!"
"Ever since that nightclub opened, I haven't let my daughter out at night!"
"Blasphemy! He's harming the community!"
"Shut down that nightclub, get it out of our neighborhood!"
"Shut it down!"
"Get it out of our neighborhood!"
The crowd in the church started chanting in unison.
Ryan stood his ground, gripping the podium. He looked out at the crowd; most of them were Colombian and Cuban.
He could tell from their features that Colombians tended to have mixed heritage, while Cubans leaned more towards traditional European backgrounds. The distinctions reminded him of the differences between Brazilians and Argentinians.
Facing the wave of criticism, Ryan smiled slightly and tapped on the podium twice with his ring.
"Boom! Boom!" The thuds echoed clearly, drowning out the noise.
"Tell me, when was the last time this place was so alive? It was back in the 70s to 80s, and now, decades later, what have you got? Crumbling roads, chaotic safety, or a decaying sense of community? Young people leave here for big cities to make a living, children lack proper education, middle-aged folks are burdened by prescription drugs, and seniors suffer from illness.
Is that why you came here?"
Ryan scanned the crowd.
No one dared to respond; his words cut straight to their core.
"This is the reality: you're a bunch of garbage, ignored and spreading stench." He spoke bluntly, and it ignited discontent among some in the audience.
"Did I say something wrong?" Ryan locked eyes with several of them, who all shrank back under his gaze.
"And now, this community is thriving again -- people coming and going every day, the parking lot full -- all thanks to my nightclub. Are there any restaurant owners nearby? Raise your hands, let me see."
He scanned the hall and a couple of people raised their hands.
"Loudly tell everyone, has your business improved since the nightclub opened?"
One woman, holding a child, stood up and said, "Before the nightclub opened, we barely had any customers. But once it did, especially late at night, a lot of people started coming to eat. My husband couldn't handle it all, so he brought my brother in and is planning to hire two more people."
The responses from the other two echoed similar sentiments.
"Did you all hear that? That's the answer. The closer the restaurant is to the nightclub, the more their business grows." Ryan tapped the podium again.
"Well, how does that affect us?!" someone shouted.
"It affects you a lot! Do you know what those nightclub patrons represent? Walking wallets!"
"I have good news for you all: I'm considering raising funds to build a business strip around the nightclub -- restaurants, hotels, convenience stores, gas stations -- all the amenities will be there. Including repairs on the nearby roads. Everyone will benefit from this development.
At that point, I'll rent the spaces to you at low prices!" Ryan spread his arms wide, creating an inviting gesture.
The crowd looked at each other, uncertain.
Before long, someone started clapping, and within seconds, the church echoed with applause.
"Let's revive the community!" Ryan shouted.
"Let's revive the community!" they all chanted back in unison.
...
"Impressive. You're not just a good speaker; you really know how to rally people. Your talent goes beyond just music," the bishop said as Ryan stepped off the stage. He promptly embraced him.
"Honestly, it's all just storytelling," Ryan replied casually.
He believed every narrative was, at its core, a story.
As for now, the business strip needed tenants, and these locals could fill some of those spots.
"It's your appearance; you look a bit too young. You should try wearing a suit; it'll make you look more mature and win the crowd's favor," the bishop suggested.
...
It seemed that Ryan's speech made a good impact. The bishop later asked Ryan to present awards to a few teenagers.
These teens had excelled in a national sports competition, a cause for celebration in the community. In many faith-driven communities, religious ceremonies were akin to community events, so this occasion wasn't unusual.
After the awards, Ryan stood on stage, with a choir behind him, collectively singing a religious song, or what they called a hymn.
Ryan didn't sing; he just clapped along to the rhythm. Just then, a familiar sensation washed over him, blending with the hymn in the air.
Ryan paused, stunned to hear Beyonce's voice.
Moments later, a male voice chimed in, equally familiar.
♫ Put your wings on me, wings on meWhen I was so heavyPour on a symphonyWhen I'm low, low, low, low ♫
Ryan recognized it was Chris Martin from Coldplay.
Beyonce and Coldplay collaborating didn't sound like religious music; it was actually a pop song titled Hymn For The Weekend.
He was taken aback to discover that this track was produced by AVICII, and it was the second time he'd encountered that name.
Listening closely, Ryan noted that this song shared a certain musical quality with Wake Me Up.
...
"Boom! Boom!"
"Come in."
Teresa led a well-dressed woman into Ryan's office.
"Welcome, Ms. Nora," Ryan said as he stood up and extended his hand.
The woman with the sleek black bob assessed him before shaking his hand, smiling, "You look much more mature than on TV."
Today, Ryan was in a dress shirt, fully in work mode.
"You look a lot younger than I expected. I thought you were just an intern," Ryan chuckled.
The woman named Nora laughed, "You're quite the charmer."
In reality, she did look young, and thanks to her makeup, Ryan couldn't guess her age precisely, but he figured she was around thirty-five.
"Let me formally introduce myself; I work at Carlyle Group's Florida office, specifically APG, overseeing your commercial development and construction."
"A management company for water parks and family entertainment centers?" Ryan asked as he took a seat.
"Exactly," Nora nodded. "That's our main business, although we also dabble in some side projects."
"Collaborating with the pastor?"
"Which pastor? The land and this building have already been transferred to APG legally and compliantly. So don't think too much about it," Nora replied calmly.
Ryan smiled but didn't say anything.
"Where do we stand now? I've seen your project documents, has the final budget been determined?" she asked, snapping her fingers at Teresa.
Teresa moved towards the coffee machine.
"About forty million," Ryan replied quietly.
"Forty million? You must be kidding. The normal budget is definitely lower than that. You're not thinking of building a luxury business strip, are you?" Nora quickly responded.
It made sense; only seasoned professionals would work on such a project.
"The final budget hasn't been confirmed, but I've contacted banks since I need their support for funding," Ryan explained.
"Which banks have you reached out to?" Nora inquired immediately.
"Florida First Bank, Coast National Bank, some regional banks..." Ryan listed off the local Florida banks.
"Maybe you should reconsider those. They're struggling themselves, and their loan limits won't be high. I can recommend a couple: SunTrust Bank and United Bank. I have a college friend at United Bank, but you won't need my connections; they should be eager to lend you money," Nora said.
"Got it, Teresa, please call them now and inquire about the services," Ryan instructed.
...
In the meantime, Ryan answered a few more calls.
Nora wandered around the office, noticing a framed picture of Ryan and Taylor and the AMA Best New Artist trophy, with an empty space beside it.
"Is that where the Grammy trophy will go?" Nora turned to him with curiosity.
"Of course not, I can't be certain," Ryan replied, putting down the phone. "The bank just informed me that someone will come by tomorrow."
This was indeed the case. The bank was eager to give him money.
*****
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