Rhythm and Ray: A DJ’s Journey

[Chapter 223: This Song is for You]

Backstage at the nightclub, Ryan looked at the dozen or so women dressed in cheerleader-style outfits resembling leopard print crop tops and hot shorts. He snapped his fingers to signal them to come closer. "You'll be on stage in five minutes. Does anyone have any last-minute questions?"

"These shorts are a bit tight; can you help me loosen them?" A glamorous woman turned around, shaking her hips adorned in leopard print, prompting a round of laughter from the group.

"I have a question too. Do you need an XXL or XXXL umbrella?" another woman chimed in, her top barely able to contain her ample figure.

These cheerleaders, getting paid hourly, were definitely more spirited and daring than the college girls he'd dealt with before, making suggestive comments toward Ryan as they spoke.

"I don't like using that thing," Ryan said casually.

This drew gasps from the women, several of them covering their mouths with manicured hands, feigning shock.

"Alright, get ready to go out there," Ryan instructed, stepping aside to clear the way.

The girls lined up, with Pom-poms in hand and moving close to Ryan, but instead of a high-five, they approached and playfully bumped against him.

Ryan gave each one a pat as the sounds of cards being shuffled filled the backstage area. Moments later, cheers and applause erupted from the crowd outside, intensifying the atmosphere.

On stage was DJ Pineapple, and Ryan would be performing at the crucial moment afterward.

...

"Ryan, Paris in the VIP room wants to see you."

The voice of his manager, Sean, crackled through the walkie-talkie in his hand.

"Tell her to wait. I'm busy," Ryan replied. He usually visited high-paying clients to check if they were satisfied, but that typically happened after he finished performing.

"She said if you go now, she'll order a few thousand dollars' worth of drinks."

Is she testing me? Just because it's a few grand doesn't mean I'll jump up to make her happy. Does she think I'm just any nightclub owner?

"Which room is she in?" Ryan asked, raising the walkie-talkie.

"Same place as usual."

Without hesitation, Ryan turned and took the elevator upstairs. There was a staff hallway that connected to the VIP area, and within two minutes, he entered the room.

"Ohhhhh! Look who's here!" Paris exclaimed, rising from her seat to approach him, throwing her arms around his neck. She was wearing a dazzling fringed mini dress reminiscent of what Taylor had worn during her performance, paired with strikingly high stiletto heels, making her display quite effortless.

"I brought my sister for you, but you'll need to spend time with me first. If I'm happy, I'll take care of things for you and my sister," Paris said, giving Ryan a playful pat on the chest.

Nikki, sitting on the sofa and glued to her phone, looked up immediately, frowning, "If you involve me again, I'm leaving right now!"

Paris winked at her.

Nikki huffed and resumed her attention to the screen.

Paris Hilton practically cuddled up to Ryan as they both sat down. The room was lively, with several of Paris's friends and a few young men dressed exceptionally well, adorned with expensive accessories.

As soon as they sat, Paris summoned a waiter, ordering a plethora of items, noting that leftovers could always be saved. Although she had entered under the "heiress" label, everyone knew Paris wasn't truly set to inherit her family's fortune. Her spending habits were extravagant, and the money she used was primarily earned from releasing movies, fragrances, albums, and reality TV appearances. Her perfume sales had peaked in prior years, and the rest were not as profitable, but due to her fame, her income was still staggering. Based on reliable figures, since 2006, her annual income had been in the multi-millions.

"I have time next week," Paris giggled.

"When you get to Los Angeles, Trey will contact you."

"By the way, I saw some new faces at the DJ booth earlier. They looked unfamiliar," Paris remarked, raising her glass filled with a pink cocktail.

"They were recruited," Ryan replied.

"Recruited? You didn't tell me that. I was a record producer once," Paris laughed.

"I know DJs very well; it's just about pressing buttons. I have quite the following. The Paris Club in Orlando collaborates with me consistently," she tossed her hair playfully, striking a flirty pose.

"I just wonder how interested you are in me personally," she winked at Ryan.

She was certainly persistent.

"If you're talking about performance interest, then yes, I'm interested. You can take the stage yourself later," Ryan responded.

"What about interest in other aspects?" Paris pressed on.

"We're just friends, F-R-I-E-N-D-S. Do you need me to spell it out for you?" Ryan flashed his ring finger.

A hint of bitterness rose in Paris's heart, but she smiled softly, "I know your type; you won't be able to resist eventually."

However, Ryan didn't provide the expected response.

"Or did you just agree?" Paris said, noticing a shift in the conversation, her smile widening.

Ryan took five seconds to regain his composure. "What were we talking about? I spaced out for a moment."

To be precise, a sense of deja vu had struck him.

"Let me be a DJ."

"No problem." In a great mood, Ryan wouldn't refuse her request.

"Would you be able to write me a song?" Paris then ventured further.

"I'll give you a fitting song when I can," Ryan assured her.

He then stood up, bidding farewell to Paris. "I need to get back to work."

"Can I see you again later?" Paris asked.

"If you pop open a few more bottles, it's not out of the question."

"Get out of here! Go on, don't come see me tonight," Paris waved him away.

...

As Ryan exited the VIP room, he was immediately approached by Jared, who was accompanied by a blonde woman, with the waiter guiding them toward the VIP section.

"Ryan! I was just about to call you!" Jared waved.

"Your wife?" Ryan asked, eyeing the woman. She was statuesque, even taller than Taylor, her figure demanding attention. With her striking blonde hair and vibrant features, she could easily play the role of a medieval queen, perfectly matching the label of a "golden girl."

Definitely a head-turner.

"I'm not wearing a ring," the woman interjected before Jared had the chance to speak.

"Just friends?" Ryan scrutinized her, smiling back.

"Just a friend," the woman echoed Ryan's previous words.

"Ryan Rivers," he introduced himself, extending his hand.

"Ivanka Trump," she replied.

Same last name as Donald Trump.

"I just met your father at Mar-a-Lago; I live nearby," Ryan mentioned.

"Really?" Ivanka looked surprised.

"I've only just met him; he even said he'd make a cameo in my TV show. Have you seen it?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, I've seen it. It's pretty good. Those two actresses you had -- are they related to you?" the unexpected princess mused.

Those actresses were stunning; how could any man resist? It seemed Ivanka didn't quite buy it.

But the next moment, she glanced at Ryan's ring finger, recalling she might have misspoken. "Oh, sorry! I shouldn't have asked that."

Ryan shrugged, "Yeah, they're related, just in a collaborating sense. Taylor knows all about it."

Ivanka nodded, "Best of luck to you two."

Jared saw them deep in conversation and, feeling a bit insecure, jumped in, "Ryan and Taylor are indeed enviable, mainly because Ryan is a very upright man. He would never stray, right?"

A compliment to Ryan, but also a reminder for him to keep things above board.

"I'll catch you later, Ryan," he turned to Ivanka. "Ryan has work to do. I'll get him back here later to chat properly. Let me take you to the VIP room; I've arranged your favorite drinks and fruits."

"You're too kind," Ivanka smiled graciously, nodding toward Ryan.

"I'll see you later," Ryan echoed.

The two parties parted ways in the hallway. Ryan hadn't taken a few steps before glancing back at Ivanka's alluring figure, realizing Trump had truly raised a remarkable daughter.

The cameo with Trump would need to come up soon.

...

On the DJ booth, Ryan stepped out to thunderous cheers, having grown accustomed to the pandemonium. The cheerleaders returned after a brief break.

"Welcome everyone to the Bad Room! This week, we've invited some renowned performers. You may have seen these ladies on your screens..." Ryan held the microphone, consciously avoiding any mention of the Jacksonville Jaguars.

He continued to announce names one by one, each person raising their arms to embrace the crowd's applause.

"Alright, there's only one thing left to do -- enjoy the night!" Ryan cranked up the music, dimming the lights.

Starting with the new song Hymn for the Weekend, followed by the regular medley, Ryan performed this routine many times before, executing it effortlessly.

...

Ivanka and Jared were still in the VIP room.

"Ivanka, it's a bit loud here. How about we grab some dinner?" Jared suggested, feeling the club atmosphere wasn't suitable for a date -- had Ivanka not insisted on coming, he wouldn't have booked the room.

Besides a date, he had some serious matters to discuss with Ivanka.

"Well, if a nightclub isn't loud, what is it?" Ivanka chuckled.

"You're right. In that case, let me have dinner delivered. What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Ivanka shook her head, rising to walk toward the semi-open terrace, leaning on the railing, slightly swaying to the rhythm of the music.

She rarely visited nightclubs, but the vibrant atmosphere soon won her over.

"There are so many people down there!" Ivanka remarked, finally noticing the crowd below, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"If you want to join the main floor, I have to go with you. It can be dangerous down there; watch out for hands that wander," Jared cautioned, looking alert.

Aside from protection, he could seize the chance for some close dancing -- an opportune moment indeed.

"Maybe not," Ivanka declined.

...

Forty minutes later, food arrived.

"You must be hungry," Jared set the food down in front of Ivanka.

"Thank you," Ivanka laughed, still choosing to accept it.

"How much is this? I'll pay you later."

"Let's skip that," Jared replied, acting quite the gentleman.

Ivanka was quickly distracted by what was happening at the DJ booth, pointing down below. "Look! Another one is coming!"

...

The DJ booth welcomed a newcomer.

"Introducing to you a rising star from the Netherlands! He just collaborated with me on a brand new song! Tonight, we'll see it performed for the first time," Ryan announced.

Naturally it was the song Power from before and Ryan noticed several individuals eagerly pulling out cameras and phones.

With any new song, the performance would be swiftly shared online, serving as organic promotion across social platforms. Moreover, there were those recording the entire event.

Ryan reveled in this moment of visibility, even if some footage turned out shaky.

The booming music ignited a wave of excitement throughout the venue.

...

"This music is incredible! I feel full of energy," Ivanka mentioned, nodding along to the beats while leaning against the railing.

"I told you Ryan's music is good -- it matches the energy of the man," Jared quickly agreed.

"Didn't you just say he never strays?" Ivanka suddenly remembered.

"Actually, that's just the facade. He's a nightclub owner. Did you see those cheerleaders? This kind of thing happens frequently. Do you think Ryan would remain uninvolved? Otherwise, how would they get on stage?" Jared chuckled.

"Oh, that's certainly a possibility," Ivanka responded, frowning slightly.

...

The performances were now drawing to a close, just as Ryan had anticipated. Power did indeed captivate the audience but was merely fresh for the moment. Perhaps next month, they'd forget it; the style mirrored some previous big-room music.

In short, it didn't reflect the groundbreaking change they might have imagined.

"Folks, that brings tonight's performance to an end. Wishing you all a wonderful evening! I need a break, just like the rest of you," Ryan said into the mic.

Observing the attending patrons engage in light-hearted conversation, the volume of background music was eased down.

"However, tonight I've suddenly come up with a new idea I'd like to share. This music will feature an entirely new style, deviating from the recent big-room music. I already have concrete song ideas in mind," Ryan continued, referencing the new track born from the earlier sense of deja vu.

"This song will have a distinctly different tone, akin to 'Future Bass,' blended with the low beats of Trap music, the high melodies of EDM, and the spatial feel of house music -- a sound coming from the future."

Many were captivated by Ryan's words, refocusing their attention.

"As for this new song itself, the inspiration comes from a lady here tonight. We all have those awkward moments we can't address directly, so I can only say -- we're just friends. I'd even sing a part for you."

♫ Don't go look at me with that look in your eyeYou really ain't going away without a fightYou can't be reasoned with, I'm done being politeI've told you one, two, three, four, five, six thousand times

Haven't I made it obvious?Haven't I made it clear?Want me to spell it out for you?F-R-I-E-N-D-S ♫

...

Paris Hilton, along with her friends, leaned over the railing. Upon hearing Ryan's lyrics, it dawned on her that this was written for her.

For a regular person, hearing Ryan say such things might sting a little.

But Paris didn't think about it that way!

"I need to tweet this immediately! Ryan just wrote me a song!" Paris exclaimed, excitedly pulling out her phone to capture the scene.

...

Nearby, in another VIP booth, Ivanka was taken aback.

She had echoed the phrase "just friends," and now hearing Ryan mention this song inspired by a woman here tonight -- wasn't that her?

"Jared, what do you think of this song?" Ivanka propped her chin on her hand, looking at Jared expectantly.

"I'm not well-versed in music," Jared shrugged.

"Well, this is for you," Ivanka smiled.

"Then I'll have to politely decline," Jared replied, with a shrug.

*****

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