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Everything Changes

Everything Changes

Titel: Everything Changes Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Jonathan Tropper
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glee.
    We left Henry and Pete to sift through the toys, and joined Matt, who was smoking a cigarette out in the backyard. “Hey, Matt,” Jed said. “Did you tell Zack about my vision?”
    “No,” Matt said, stubbing out his cigarette. He’d announced his intention to quit in Henry’s honor, but so far it hadn’t been going well. “I figured I’d leave that to you.”
    Jed nodded and turned to me. “I was shopping for some new guitars with Matt, when I had a vision.”
    In the aftermath of what will forever be referred to by my family simply as Zack’s Party, Matt and Jed reached some convoluted arrangement wherein Jed would serve as manager for Worried About the WENUS, booking their gigs and lining up a solid producer for their first demo. His first move was to buy the band all new equipment.
    “You’re having visions now?” I said.
    “He’s definitely onto something,” Matt said.
    “Or just on something.”
    “It’s kind of like a musicians’ superstore,” Jed plowed on, ignoring my wisecrack. “A fully stocked, full-service musical equipment store with recording studios in the back for bands to cut demos, and a café with a stage to showcase local bands.”
    I nodded, thinking about it. “Interesting.”
    “The opportunities for cross-promotion are endless,” he continued excitedly. “You’ve got four or five converging revenue streams under one roof: the café, the instruments, the recording studios, and the concerts. You host events to showcase new talent, and they come in and buy gear as well. We’ll help bands make demos, and offer discounts on studio time when they buy equipment from us. And we can negotiate with the instrument vendors to underwrite the studio time in exchange for in-store advertising and advantageous brand placement. I’ve got a few VC guys I know who will be all over this. I’m putting the finishing touches on the business plan—oh, and once we have the prototype done, we can expand to other cities.”
    “It’s going to be awesome,” Matt said enthusiastically as he fired up another cigarette, already banking on his freebies.
    There was a time, I recalled, when Jed used to sound like that all the time, animatedly pontificating on the latest company his hedge fund had discovered, why their product would revolutionize a particular industry, what his end would be. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until that very moment, and I wanted to hug him and welcome him back to the living. Instead I just said, “Sounds great.”
    “I’ll finish the plan and raise the money,” Jed continued. “You’ll negotiate the lease and handle all the vendor contracts.”
    “Oh, so I’m a part of this?”
    He gave me a serious look. “You have something better to do?”
    I grinned. “Count me in.”
    “Good,” Jed said, shaking my hand. “Because we’re turning your room into our office.”

    After an hour or so of trick-or-treating, Henry’s bag is bulging with hard candies and chocolates, as well as the toothpaste and toothbrush set self-righteously presented by one well-meaning party pooper. A group of little kids race past us, laughing as one of their fathers sprays Crazy String all over them. Henry stops where he is, watching the kids with a happy smile, enjoying their antics, and it makes me wonder how often he got to play with other kids over the last year with Norm. I make a mental note to find him some friends in the neighborhood.
    Back at the house, Dracula opens the door and growls savagely at us even as he throws Milky Ways into Henry’s bag. “Hi, Pete,” Henry says.
    “Hi, Henry,” he says. “Looks like you got a load of candy.”
    Henry nods, holding up his bag for Pete to inspect. “I got so much,” he says enthusiastically.
    “We still have one more stop to make,” I say. “We just need your car keys.”
    “You can have them. But first,” Pete says, grabbing Henry and hoisting him up into the air. “I’m going to suck your blood!”
    “Dracula,” I say. “Have a heart.”
    “Don’t mind if I do!” Pete yells in his best Transylvanian accent, burying his masked face into Henry’s chest while Henry convulses with laughter.

    “Whose house is this?” Henry asks me from the backseat.
    “They give good candy here.”
    “Oh,” he says, nodding.
    With Henry’s permission, I am once again wearing the goblin mask underneath the monk’s hood. Tamara answers the door in jeans and a cable sweater, her hair pulled

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