for every day that I worked for you, but that’s it. The thing is… I have my own money.”
“I know you do. I never meant to insult you.”
“You didn’t. I totally understand now why you did it. You were afraid that something bad could happen. Something like what happened on your birthday. And if you couldn’t handle things and you pushed me away, you couldn’t stand that it would hurt me. So maybe you convinced yourself that paying me upfront would protect me?”
“Yeah. Maybe something like that.”
“But it didn’t protect me, Cary. I got hurt.”
“I know that now.”
“I really don’t care about the money. And I don’t need it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” She took a breath and added, “I have almost a million dollars in the bank.”
I stared at her as she nibbled on an olive. “You do?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “After my grandma died, just before my parents left Vancouver, they sold my grandparents’ house. Like I told you, it was big and old, but it was on a large corner lot not far from the beach, and the property was bought up by a developer for almost three million, to be re-developed into townhouses.”
“Wow. Not bad.”
“Yeah. It was in my grandmother’s will that the house was to be sold and all the money from the sale was to be split three ways between my parents, my sister and me. Because I was underage, my share was put into a trust fund for me, for when I turned nineteen. I could’ve stayed with my parents until then, and then lived off the money, but I didn’t. I left them, like I told you, to come back to Vancouver, when I was barely eighteen. I basically clawed my way through a college program while living with five roommates and eating ramen and waiting tables. On my nineteenth birthday, I got this weird phone call from my mom. My parents and my sister were in town, and they wanted to see me. I literally hadn’t heard from them since I left them in Ontario almost a year before. I met with them at a restaurant, and they eventually confessed to me that they’d blown through all their money and now they wanted some of mine.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. They took me to the bank and I gave them twenty thousand, and they were gone by nightfall. They came back a month later asking for more. I gave them another ten, and the next time they came back, I cut them off, and they basically haven’t spoken to me since.”
“I’m sorry, Taylor. That’s fucking terrible.”
“Well, what can I say. They’re kind of terrible people.” She tried to make light of it with a small smile, but obviously, it hurt her. “Other than the thirty grand I gave them, I haven’t even touched that money. I finished my college program while living with those five roommates and eating ramen, and waiting tables. And then I got my first executive assistant job, and a few months later, when I felt secure enough with my paycheck, I moved into my own apartment. It’s not exactly much, but it’s mine. I’ve been really careful, really thrifty with my money, because I want to live off what I make, live within my means, and I want that money from my grandparents to last. It’s my nest egg. It’s not even enough to buy and upkeep a nice house in Vancouver, which is the sad part. But it’s enough to keep me feeling secure while I try to figure out my life. I never wanted to be an executive assistant for the rest of my life, Cary. But it’s given me the opportunity to work with really successful people in all kinds of industries, and I hoped that along the way I’d find where I belonged. I just wanted to be self-sufficient, no matter how hard it was. And I found my place in the music industry. That couldn’t have happened without you.”
“That’s incredible, Taylor. You should be proud.”
“I am.” She grinned, and I loved that confidence she had. That spark. That thing I’d felt the first time I met her. “I love working with Dirty. Brody and Maggie have been really amazing to me.”
“That’s because you work hard and you’re great at your job. They need people like you who are there to get things done, not just party with the band. You’re more valuable than you know.”