Chapter 218: Avicii: Mom, I'm Going to Florida

[Chapter 218: Avicii: Mom, I'm Going to Florida]

Ibiza, located on the eastern side of the Iberian Peninsula in the Mediterranean, boasted a pleasant climate. In ancient Greek mythology, it was known as the place where Zeus decreed that the gods would dance. Perhaps influenced by such mythology, the history and development of Ibiza revolved around the themes of revelry and indulgence.

By the late 1960s, a large number of hippies gathered there, celebrating love and partying all night long. Since then, skinny-dipping in Ibiza became a common sight.

Today, Ibiza had transformed into one of the most famous nightclub capitals in the world, featuring hundreds of nightclubs, bars, and resorts. Often dubbed the "Party Capital of the World," it was the birthplace of nightlife culture, a paradise filled with desire and hedonism for Europe's youth.

When the phone rang, Hugo awoke with a splitting headache, instantly realizing there was something wrong with the LSD he had taken the night before. Good stuff wouldn't leave such aftereffects.

Struggling to open his eyes, he pulled his phone out from under a woman's body. The time on the screen read six in the evening, which was still early for Hugo; he usually woke up around seven.

The phone screen was smeared with some liquid that had dried, leaving gray marks. He rubbed the screen against another girl's thigh to clean it before answering the call.

...

On the line was the owner of another well-known club on Ibiza called Amnesia.

"Ryan announced some news; the Bad Room Carnival will be happening this summer, scheduled for June."

Hugo pulled a cigarette from the packet in the drawer and walked to the giant window overlooking the coast, where a group of naked men and women frolicked on the beach.

"At least he hasn't opened a branch here in Ibiza yet," Hugo scoffed.

"Maybe this year, maybe next. Someday, he'll definitely make a move here, especially with the International Music Summit coming up. Do you want to see all our investments go down the drain? We need to take action."

"What kind of action? Blow up the Bad Room? Unless you guys are willing to follow my previous suggestion to establish a blacklist, making the DJs choose, we must unite and cease our competition to face a new enemy together," Hugo replied. He was the head of the Ibiza branch of the Spanish group and the owner of the Pacha club, which had been founded by his father. He had grown up in nightlife.

"I have no objections, but the other club owners might not agree. You need to gather them all and hold a meeting," Amnesia's owner said.

"Tonight," Hugo said as he hung up.

...

Turning around, Hugo saw four or five women sprawled across the bed, one with her head hanging off the edge, her hair cascading down, with a pool of vomit on the floor.

Hugo walked over, pulled a pillow from under one woman, and smacked it on the others.

"Party's over!"

Since a few of them hadn't fully woken up yet, he grabbed a bottle and splashed it on them.

Screams filled the room, but the woman who had vomited didn't budge.

Hugo grabbed her hair and saw her eyes glazed over, her skin a lifeless pale.

He checked for breath -- she was dead.

"Shoddy LSD," Hugo cursed under his breath, unceremoniously tossing her onto the floor.

Then he dialed another number. "I've got some trash I need to dump."

...

"Can you believe that jerk Afrojack? He used to swear loyalty to Spinnin' Records!" complained the person on the other end of the line, the A&R manager from Spinnin' who had once came into Ryan's house.

"Forget it. I'm not really interested in him. But R3HAB and heartwell, he's called hardwell now. Anyway, I get along well with these two guys, so I think I should help if I can," Ryan replied.

"They're the stars of Spinnin'; can't you let them stay there? You arrange meetings how you like, it's all negotiable," the A&R manager contended.

"You know that Bad Room and the Bedroom are intertwined," Ryan reminded him.

"I'm aware of how the Bedroom operates, but not every DJ at the Bad Room is affiliated with the Bedroom."

"True, but those guys are already making a name for themselves. These two are still unknowns; without the Bad Room, nobody would give them a chance."

"Alright. You know the price. And by the way, I have to warn you, Ryan; this might make everyone nervous."

"Good point. The Bedroom will focus more on scouting new talent from now on," Ryan stated bluntly.

"Let's catch up when you're in Europe."

...

Ryan then called Joel.

"Hey, Ryan! What's up? Wanting to buy some new equipment?" Joel asked, his voice the same as when Ryan first met him.

"Just checking in," Ryan replied.

"There must be something going on. When you're bored, you just call a girl," Joel joked. He was now the hardware manager for the Bad Room. "Alright, actually I've noticed some new talent lately. I want you to help me reach out to them. They're good prospects. You have time, right?" Ryan continued.

"Sure! Just give me their names, and I'll look into it," Joel eagerly replied.

"You know newcomers can catch a lot of attention all at once."

"Got it. This'll be our little secret. I'll keep this tight," Joel assured him.

...

Afterward, Ryan called Diplo.

"Ryan! I was just about to call you. We're seriously short-staffed right now, especially with resident DJs," Diplo, the show manager, said.

"Then let's start a public recruitment. Bring in Dead Mouse," Ryan suggested, feeling no need to micromanage that situation.

...

As they were talking, Ryan noticed Daddario emerge from her room, fully dressed. She waved goodbye to him, signaling she was heading out to prepare for the follow-up filming of the series 2 Broke Girls, for which they had only shot a pilot episode. As the premiere date approached, filming would continue.

Ryan, along with Lydia, Trump, and Paris, also had cameo roles planned for the series.

...

Stockholm.

Tim Bergling sat with headphones on, his eyes glued to the computer screen and his left hand flying across the keyboard. He looked a bit scruffy, a low-budget version of Leonardo DiCaprio.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and his mother dashed in before quickly retreating.

Tim muttered a curse as he hastily pulled up his pants.

"You can't keep living like this! You're twenty years old now! You need to get out there and work, not hide behind that screen all day -- at least, get a real girlfriend!" Tim's mother said, sounding worried.

"I'm working! This is my job!" he replied, showcasing his digital music software on the screen, surrounded by electronic instruments.

But just then, a pop-up appeared on his music software, prompting him to purchase or disable his software. Tim was still using pirated software.

He opened his MySpace account, filling in his ID as "Avicii." His real name had already been taken, so he had no choice.

"Oh, look at that! You already have 89 fans -- impressive," his mother teased.

"It'll grow soon," Tim replied sheepishly.

"Either you find a proper job, maybe help your dad at his office supplies store, or pack up your toys and electronics and move out!" his mother declared, giving an ultimatum.

"You can't kick me out!"

"Of course I can -- you're twenty!"

In the heated argument, they hadn't noticed a direct message pop up on Tim's MySpace page.

"Okay, I'll look for work," Tim finally relented, nodding.

His peripheral vision caught the DM, and his heart raced when he read the line next to the sender's name.

"Orlando, Bad Room, Hardware Manager"

The Bad Room's manager?

Tim's eyes widened in excitement as he jumped to his feet.

"Mom, I'm going to Florida!" Tim turned to her, disbelief etched on his face.

*****

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