Chapter 21 – The Pitch
It was just after lunch when Jake finally made his move.
He found Alan on the deck, sitting awkwardly in one of Charlie's oversized Adirondack chairs, pretending to read a dog-eared paperback he'd pulled off a shelf. He didn't look up as Jake approached, which only made Jake more determined.
"Hey, Dad," Jake said, casually.
Alan glanced up, instantly suspicious. "You only call me 'Dad' when you want something."
"Accurate," Jake said with a grin. "But this time it's not about toys or snacks. It's about opportunity."
Alan groaned. "Are you pitching me?"
"Yeah," Jake said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. "I want to take FaceWorld live."
Alan blinked. "What's FaceWorld?"
Jake sat down on the patio step, ready. "The social network I've been building. Profiles. Messaging. Photos. Friends lists. Basically a way for people to connect online."
Alan looked at him blankly. "Isn't that what email's for?"
Jake fought the urge to sigh. "No. Email's one-to-one. This is everyone, all at once. It's like giving every person their own little space on the internet—where they can show who they are, what they're into, and who they're connected with."
Alan looked skeptical. "Okay. Sounds… ambitious. How's that going to work?"
"I've already built the prototype. All the features are running locally. I just need to get it hosted. That means servers, a domain name, maybe a bit of early legal stuff so I own it properly."
Alan folded his arms. "Jake, you're ten. I love that you're driven, but this sounds like a lot. A lot of risk. A lot of money."
Jake nodded. "That's why I'm asking you, not Grandma. She'd write the check without blinking, but I need someone who'll question me."
Alan squinted. "Okay. Let's talk cost."
Jake handed him the paper. "Right now, a decent dedicated server will run us about two to three hundred dollars a month. Maybe more, depending on bandwidth and uptime guarantees. I'll need at least a year. That's before domain registration and legal fees. Ballpark: two grand up front."
Alan's eyes widened. "Two thousand dollars?"
Jake nodded. "I know. It's a lot. But this is real. It's not a school project. I'm not playing pretend. This is the future."
Alan looked at the paper again, then at Jake—his ten-year-old son talking like a startup founder.
He let out a long sigh. "You're asking me to fund something that most adults wouldn't understand. Something no one's ever heard of. Something… that might crash and burn."
Jake met his gaze, steady. "Or something that might change the world."
Silence.
Then Alan said, "Let me think about it."
Jake smiled. That wasn't a no.
Jake didn't push Alan again that day. He knew better.
Alan was the kind of guy who needed time to overthink things. The kind who would spend three days researching microwaves before settling on the cheapest one. So instead of arguing, Jake did what any smart entrepreneur would do:
He built a demo.
In the living room, on Charlie's old PC, Jake polished his site. He created a clean homepage, a few fake user profiles, and a simple message wall that made it look like people were already posting. The data was fake, but the feel was real.
He didn't hear Charlie come in until the glass of ice clinked behind him.
"What is this?" Charlie asked, sipping something with way too much scotch in it for 2 p.m.
Jake glanced over his shoulder. "Something I've been building."
Charlie leaned closer. "This your homework?"
"Not even close," Jake said. "It's a social network. People can make profiles, share updates, send messages. Like their own personal space online, but connected to others."
Charlie squinted. "Like a dating site?"
Jake smirked. "Not everything's about dating."
Charlie waved his glass. "Sure it isn't."
Jake clicked through the fake profiles and dummy posts. "Right now it's just running on this machine. But I want to put it online. Make it real."
Charlie nodded slowly. "What's stopping you?"
Jake hesitated. "Servers. Hosting. I need a decent setup that won't crash if more than five people log in. It's not cheap."
Charlie crossed his arms. "How much?"
Jake turned to him, serious. "About two grand to start. Domain, server costs, maybe a few legal basics to protect the code."
Charlie whistled. "Two grand? That's a lot of money for a ten-year-old's science fair project."
Jake didn't flinch. "It's not a project. It's the start of something big. I just need someone who believes in it."
Charlie looked at him for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled out his wallet, fished out a credit card, and dropped it on the desk.
Jake stared at it. "You're serious?"
Charlie smirked. "Kid, I once dropped more than that on a blackjack hand and a cab ride home. This? This might actually turn into something."
Jake blinked, still holding the card like it was made of gold. "Why?"
Charlie shrugged. "Call it a hunch. Plus, watching your dad squirm when I tell him I invested in your website? Priceless."
Jake grinned. "Thanks, Uncle Charlie."
"Don't thank me yet," Charlie said, heading back to the kitchen. "Just don't name it something lame like FaceSpace or FriendBook. You want something cool—something people remember."
Jake turned back to the screen, heart racing.
It was happening.