“And how much does it cost them to rent the place?”
She gives me a dirty look.
“What?” I protest. “I’m just curious.”
“I don’t charge them, Julien,” she chides like she’s just found out I skipped doing my homework. “It’s a community event.”
“Community events can make you money,” I respond, not willing to let my point drop that easily.
“Entry is pay what you can. They don’t have the funds to rent a place. That’s why they came to me.”
“So instead of charging them, you could up the entry, make it eighteen plus so you’re selling drinks, work out a basic adverting strategy and—”
“Julien.” She cuts off my argument as we arrive at the big square in front of the metro station, a few diehard street performers still working the crowds crossing the open expanse of concrete.
“It’s just a nice thing to do for someone,” Monroe continues, firm but calm. “Why does it have to be more than that?”
“It’s not that it has to be,” I parry. “It just...could.”
If I only made things what theyhadto be, I’d still own one establishment instead of four and counting. I might not even be in Canada at all. It’s the push for more that makes things happen.
“You wouldn’t even need to keep the money,” I insist. “You could make it a big charity event. You could share poetry with people who’ve never been given a chance to enjoy it. You could change things.” I’m letting myself get all fired up. I notice we’re standing still on the edge of the square, but I persist. I always persist. “If I had been content to run a little chicken restaurant, it never would have grown into something big enough for Bento to manage. He’d still just be a cook. His family wouldn’t have jobs there. Ambition isn’t the only reason to go after more in life. Success can benefit so many more people than just the ones who step up and go for it.”
“Wow, that’s great, Julien. Really well phrased. You should put that on a t-shirt and sell it to someone who actually asked for a lecture from you.”
She moves past me and starts to join the throng aiming for the metro station doors. I stare at the back of her brunette head for a second before realization kicks in.
She’s pissed off. Very pissed off.
“Monroe, wait!”
I have to call her name three times before she turns around.
“I’m sorry! Please wait.”
She doesn’t look happy about it, but she steps over to an empty patch of pavement and waits for me to catch up.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Sometimes I get...caught up. I didn’t mean to belittle you, or—”
“Mansplain how I should run my business?”
I bite back a grin. “Yes, that. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You do realize I’m the one who pointed out how your restaurant benefitted Bento, right? You didn’t even know about his family until I told you, and you’re his boss.”
“I know. Truly, I know, and that was going to be my next point.”
Her eyebrows are still an angry flat line, but she doesn’t start heading for the station again, which I take as permission to continue.
“You are...You are so different from anyone I’ve ever met in this profession. This industry does not leave much room for kindness, but you don’t let that stop you. Youmakeroom for kindness. You make time where it shouldn’t be possible for there to be any. You make people feel...seen. Cared for. Listened to.”
She’s made me feel those things. She’s made me realize I didn’t stop needing them in all the years I went without them; I just forgot how much I did.
Silence hangs between us. The lines of her face show the slightest hint of softening. I press on before this can get too intense, before I decide to kiss her right here in the metro station square.
I have a more important point to make.
“Your staff,” I urge. “I have never seen a staff like that before. You probably pay them less than mine, but I know you could pay them even half of what they’re getting now and they’d still be loyal to you. They’d still work their best. That’s rare, Monroe. That’s not an easy thing to achieve.”
