1986
I lay there in my bed, my eyes feeling wet. Was I about to cry? There's no way—I'm a grown man. I can't be crying. I finish my beer. At this point, I was starting to feel weird. Too many beers, I thought.
My eyes started to look around the room. The walls were all moving, a faint light from my window illuminating them slightly. I sit up.
"I can't be that drunk," I said.
The light outside cut off, leaving my room in complete darkness. I sat there for a moment, feeling the darkness swallow me whole. A feeling washed over me—emptiness.
The light from outside came back on, and the walls were still.
"I really am drunk, aren't I?" I say.
I lay back down and try to go to sleep, my head spinning. The moment my eyes closed, I wake up the next morning. I didn't remember falling asleep.
I got ready for the day—brushed my teeth, got dressed, and grabbed my hat and keys. All my normal day-to-day things.
I get in my car, turn the key, the engine roars to life. I put it in drive and press the gas.
When I got to my studio, I stepped out of the car. A breeze of air hit me, but it felt different—stale, almost. I walk inside.
Cody was already in there.
"Hey, Mister Allen," he said.
"Hey…" I said, passing him.
As I walk into the kitchen, he follows behind me.
"Where's everyone else?" I ask.
"Oh, um… they all quit," he said.
"Of course they did," I say.
I push the door to my office open. I sit down in my chair, throwing my hat on my desk. I lean back and sigh.
"So what now, sir?" Cody says.
I look at him without moving my head.
"Nothing. You can go home, kid. Thanks for all your help this last year, but you can go now," I say.
"That's it? You're just going to give up like that?" he says.
I stop looking at him.
"Yeah."
"That's not the Mister Allen I know. The one I know would have never let this happen. This was your dream, and you're just going to let it go like it's nothing!?"
"GO HOME, CODY!" I shout.
Cody goes quiet. He stares at me for a moment before walking out the door, leaving it open slightly. I hear his footsteps as he walks away.
I stare at the cracked door when my phone starts ringing suddenly. I nearly fall out of my chair at the noise.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, then answer.
"Hello," I say.
"Hello, is this Allen?" the person on the other side says.
"Yes it is. Who's this?" I ask.
"It's Westbrook," he says.
"Oh, Mr. Westbrook. What can I do for you?"
"I need you to come down to my office. We have to discuss something," he says.
This had to be about my overdue payments on the building.
"Oh… um, sure. When did you want me to come?" I ask.
"Today," he said.
I was surprised by his answer.
"Today? Is that not a little short notice?"
"Yes, it's not a lot of time, but I'm sure you have plenty of time on your hands these days," he said.
I clench my fist. He wasn't wrong. I had plenty of free time—my shows weren't selling, I had no work.
"Okay," I said. "I'll head over there now."
I hang up the phone.
"Great," I mumble.
I grab my hat and walk out of my office.
"Cody!" I call out.
There was no response. He must have left.
I walk out of the building and to my car.
I make it to the office building and walk inside, this time knowing where to go. I get on the elevator and ride it up.
Last time I was in here, I was about to start my new life. Now the doors open.
I step out of the elevator and walk over to his office door. I knock a few times.
"Come in," I hear.
I open the door.
"Ah, Mister Allen. Please have a seat," he says.
I sit down, waiting for what he was going to say next.
"I'm sure you know at this point I like to get straight to the point," he says.
"You're overdue on your payments, Mister Allen."
"Yeah, I know," I said.
"Your shows just aren't what people are interested in now. Your competitors are doing everything you are but better. The shows have new tricks, the service is better. You may have the best location, but your performance isn't keeping up with everyone else," he said.
"So what are you saying?" I ask.
"I'm saying I'm going to have no choice but to reclaim the property," he said.
"What? No, you can't," I say.
"Yes, I can. You're late on all your payments. I'll have no choice but to foreclose," he said.
But was that really so bad?
Everything had gone downhill. My shows didn't have anyone. I was a failure.
So what good would it do to keep that building?
Then Cody's words came back to me.
"The Mister Allen I know would have never let this happen. This was your dream, and you're just going to let it go like it's nothing!?"
Those words triggered something in me.
I couldn't give up here. I had to keep trying.
"Sir, give me just one more month. I promise I'll have shows bigger than anyone else around," I said.
Westbrook raised an eyebrow.
"And what makes you think you can do that?" he says.
"A friend of mine," I said.
He thinks for a moment.
"Fine. I'll give you one more month. But no more. If you don't have a show sold out by then, I'm taking back the property. No exceptions," he says.
"Thank you, sir," I say as I stand up.
We say goodbye, and then I head back to my car.