Through the wide-angle lens, everything popped just right. Nearly… Jaxx darted from behind the tripod and infinitesimally tweaked the angle of the ring light. There. The slate and gold flecked marble counter had been worth every cent, he mused as he watched it glimmer from behind the camera. And that espresso machine was admittedly more sophisticated than the venue required, but there was no denying how good it looked in the socials. The aesthetic was everything, he’d worry about the maxed-out credit cards later. His dream was manifesting, and the customers would follow. He took the shot, and the lighting was perfect.
Jaxx paused a moment to drink in with pride the wonder of his creation— the hippest, hottest café—no, collaboration space—on the strip. And they were here, his exact target audience, the digital elite, the young, rich entrepreneurs who flocked to the island. The digital nomads who rocked the work-from-anywhere ethos, who understood what was important in life. They were living the dream.
They were the beautiful people. A carefully curated clientele that would put his business on the map and make him as rich and successful as they were. Jaxx thought about his own time at school and university, working so hard, what a waste. These kids had it licked for sure. All you needed was a great idea, a laptop, and of course, the right digital footprint. You could sell anything.
The space was filling fast, as it did every morning. High-end active-wear-clad punters were settling in to run their impressive empires from his café. Each staring intently at their glowing MacBook for hours, a $6 mushroom latte slowly going cold in front of them, as the dollars no doubt rolled into their offshore accounts. Every now and then, one of them would strike a pose and take a selfie or a video. In tandem, Jaxx would feel the gratifying buzz of his phone against his thigh as the café was tagged in the corresponding post. That was gold. They may not be spending big, but those tags and mentions were what mattered. He didn’t need their brunch orders—he just needed their followers. Everyone would know what a success he was becoming. The Golden Hour was the place to be seen. The money would come, right?
And then the beautiful lights flickered once and died. The aircon whirred and silenced as the ambient playlist faded to nothing. But most frightening of all, the high-speed Wi-Fi—the very lifeblood of the space—vanished. Silence. A sea of eyes stared blankly at frozen screens for what felt like an eternity.
‘What the…’
‘Hey man, I was on a five-figure launch call…’
‘Seriously…’
‘What just happened…’
‘That was a major client…’
Jaxx white-knuckled the exquisite marble counter. Surely, he had a few more days before they cut him off—he had a plan to get the money by then.
Snap, snap, snap, went the MacBooks. Jaxx watched as his precious clientele shoved ring lights and phone paraphernalia into their totes and began to leave.
‘Don’t worry about them, darling.’
Jaxx saw her then, tucked away in the corner, under a giant monstera plant. She was there every day, but he hadn’t really noticed her before. The fifty-something woman wasn’t packing up or leaving. She sipped on a black coffee as she typed on a battered old Acer laptop.
‘They’ll get over it.’ She peered at him through an ancient pair of jam jar specs, an amused smirk twitching at her thin lips.
‘But they’ll blame me. The lost deals, the money—their businesses,’ Jaxx was pulling at his hair, his chest tightening, ‘nobody will come here, and everybody will know.’
‘What businesses? Their online “empires”?’ she air-quoted and scoffed.
Jaxx released a fistful of hair and stared at her. But he’d seen it on TikTok… He thought then about the illusion of his own success. The reality was he went home to a shared house, ate instant noodles for dinner and prayed his cards wouldn’t max out tomorrow. Any profit he did make was spent on a model-turned-DJ to look the part on Instagram.
‘This is just a free office with a fancy backdrop,’ she shrugged.
As the air in the café grew humid and dank with no aircon, Jaxx looked around at the space he had created. He had broken his back and his credit rating to fabricate the ultimate setting.
For what?
Then he remembered the photo he had been working on before the blackout. Grabbing his phone, he deftly made a few swift edits and shared the post. As the first likes began to ping onto the screen, Jaxx could feel the dopamine soothe his soul. This is what mattered. Still, the lighting was perfect.
© Tropical Writers Inc 2026