Chapter 2
CLARA
Present Day…
Isat on a bench outside the Helios Theater, drawing in my sketchpad.
My office was in the basement of the theater, but I often came out front to draw designs for upcoming plays, weather permitting.
It was the Friday before Thanksgiving in Texas, so I was still in shorts and the coffee next to me was iced instead of hot.
Harrison City didn’t have much of a downtown to speak of, but for me, the crown jewel had always been the Helios.
Built in the thirties by a rich oil tycoon, the art deco style was like nothing else in town, with its sharp angles and geometric patterns.
It reminded me of old theaters back in Los Angeles, where I’d spent a few years working on movie sets after college.
That dream had died a couple of years back after a brutal breakup. I had returned to my hometown to lick my wounds, and I had been lucky enough to get a job at the Helios. Rodney, the manager there, had taken pity on me. I paid him back by working my butt off.
Working there wasn’t as glamorous as the sets I’d decorated back in LA, but at least I still got to work in my field, doing something I loved.
Some parts of the year were slow, but the holiday season was always our busiest time.
The theater made most of its money for the year during November and December and I would get a percentage of the ticket sales.
That was good. I needed money. Didn’t everyone these days?
This year’s Christmas show at the Helios was The Nutcracker, and it was my baby.
I’d been planning it out for the last year, working with a local dance company to make sure it looked slick and professional.
I was about five minutes away from putting the finishing touches on the set designs we would be using.
This could be it. My shot. My chance to finally, after two years, get back on my feet and make something of my life. I looked up at the giant sunburst over the marquee, using it for inspiration as I sketched the final designs.
My sun would rise again.
With the set designs finally finished, we would be ready to start building once the backstage theater staff returned from Thanksgiving break. Everything was going to plan for the show. It would run a few weeks before Christmas to just after New Year’s, so there were plenty of tickets to be sold.
Time for a break. I pulled my ham sandwich from the brown paper bag on the bench next to me. It wasn’t anything special, just white bread with a single slice of ham. I took small bites to make it last. My next payday couldn’t come soon enough.
Looking up at the theater I loved, I felt optimistic. Everything was finally coming together. All my hard work was about to pay off. It had to. I could feel it.
Then, Rodney came out the front doors, following a stern-looking man in a cheap suit.
“Please, there has to be something we can do,” Rodney was saying.
“It’s no longer up to me,” the man said without stopping. “Take it up with the city council.”
Rodney’s shoulders slumped and he watched the man get in his car and drive away.
“Rodney, what’s wrong?” I asked, feeling uneasy.
His brown eyes blinked behind his thick glasses like he was noticing me for the first time. Tall and broad-shouldered, my boss was in his mid-fifties and the man had been a steady rock over the last two years, like a kind, old uncle always there to tell me things would be okay.
He burst into tears on the sidewalk.
I leapt up from the bench to wrap my arm around his shoulders.
Part of me was freaking out too, but for some reason, seeing people in distress always made me forget about my own feelings.
I just wanted to make them feel better. That same instinct was kicking in right then.
I locked my panic in a little box to be dealt with later.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said. “Whatever it is, you’re going to be okay.”
A fresh sob tore through him and he shook his head. “Not this time.” His fingers pulled at his tie, loosening it. He dragged in quick breaths, gasping. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
I was no doctor, but I had worked with dramatic theater people for a long time. “I think you’re just hyperventilating.”
“No, this is it. It’s the big one,” he whined between rapid breaths.
I fluffed open the paper bag and put it up to his face. “Breathe into that. Sorry if it smells like ham.”
I guided him to sit on the bench beside me. Rubbing his back, I let him breathe until things evened out. When he could speak again, he told me the apocalyptic news through his tears.
“The theater has to be shut down until spring.”
The words rang in my ears, and everything he said next sounded far away, like we were underwater.
Someone had reported unsafe conditions. Things that weren’t up to code.
The guy who’d just left was a building inspector with the city.
The Helios had failed its inspection miserably.
The Nutcracker was canceled and he was going to have to lay everyone off until the doors reopen after the renovations.
If they ever reopened.
“I’m so sorry to do this to you right before Christmas,” he said. “I’ll get you your last check soon. I’ll see if I can throw in a little extra.”
I nodded my thanks, stunned and numb. “I appreciate that. Every little bit helps.”
“If you need anything, call me. I mean, I’m also jobless and broke, but I’ve weathered storms like this before. I know which dollar store cat food tastes all right.”
That broke through some of the fog in my brain. I turned to look him in the eyes. “Rodney, promise me you won’t eat cat food.”
“Of course, I promise.” He winked at me.
I shook my head. “I’m serious, Rodney. Look at me. If you’re ever at that point again, you call me. We’ll figure something else out, okay? Neither one of us will be having cat food Christmas, all right?”
“All right. Thank you, Clara.”
We sat on the bench, discussing potential options for keeping the theater going, but neither one of us came up with anything.
Rodney said he would talk to a lawyer. He would talk to the mayor.
All of that sounded like it would take a long time, assuming it would even work, and time was not on my side.
The rent was due when it was due. I would have to figure out something no matter what happened with the Helios. Best case scenario, I got rehired in spring. Worst case, I had to start over from scratch.
A while later, I walked into my basement office on wooden feet.
The cramped space was in the haunted bowels of the theater, full of cobwebs and crates, but I had made it cozy.
A few well-placed lights and some hanging fabric had done wonders.
Now I had to box up all my stuff, in case I never got a chance to come back.
I dreaded the inevitable conversation with my family.
My parents and brother would be sympathetic, but they were also going to tell me, “I told you so.” They had warned me many, many times that a degree in theater would only end in debt and low-paying jobs, but I had followed my dreams, just like everyone had told me to do growing up.
At twenty-six, I was unemployed—again—and lived over a garage apartment that always smelled like grease because of the diner it shared a parking lot with. And I wouldn’t even be able to afford that roach trap soon.
I had nothing but eighty grand in student loan debt and two grand in savings to show for it.
Two grand I now had to make last until I could find another solution. Two grand I had been saving for my big, life-changing move to New York.
LA hadn’t been my cup of tea for lots of reasons, but part of the problem was I wasn’t all that interested in movies.
I liked stage plays and New York was the place to be for that.
If I was going to keep chasing my dream somewhere else, it had to be there.
After this most recent setback, though, that goal had never felt further away.
I dropped off my stuff at my place and texted my best friend, Jessie. Without hesitation, she agreed to meet up with me at Tipsy’s, our favorite spot for after-work drinks. I drove over in a daze, still unable to believe my terrible luck.
Tipsy’s was a total dive with peanut shells on the floor and the smell of stale beer floating through the air. Jessie was already there. A frosty pitcher of frozen margaritas waited for me on the table.
“You know me well,” I said, sliding into the seat. “Also, you’re paying tonight.”
Jessie laughed. “Uh oh. What happened?”
“I got fired. Well, I was let go.” I explained all the details between sips of my frosty beverage.
“Poor Rodney,” she said once I’d finished.
“I know,” I said. “But also, poor me.”
Jessie shrugged. “Sign up for substitute duty at my middle school. We always need subs. I know it’s not what you want to do, and it’s not the steadiest income, but it’s something. Why not try that for a while? Then we can get lunch together and I can tell you which kids I’m beefing with.”
I laughed into my cup. “You probably shouldn’t be feuding with children.”
“It’s not like I’m fighting them in the parking lot. It’s like, when treat day rolls around, I know who’s getting the crappy candy.” She giggled. “Enjoy your Milky Way.”
“I like Milky Ways,” I said.
“Looks like I’ll be adding you to the list,” she said with a grin.
“Anyway, I’ll think about subbing,” I said. “I’m not making any decisions tonight.”
Jessie raised her glass and clinked it against mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
Right after starting our third pitcher, two familiar men walked into the bar.
“Is that who I think it is?” I asked her.
Jessie glanced at the men, squinting a little. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s the Whitaker brothers. Well, Troy and Chris.”
“I haven’t seen them in years,” I said, shaking my head. “What have they been up to?”
“I heard they opened some kind of consulting business, working with oil companies out near Dallas.” Jessie shrugged. “I don’t really know what that means, but they look like they’re doing all right.”
They did. Their clothes were just jeans and button shirts, but they looked neat and tidy, not like how they used to when they worked on their family ranch. I had never hung out with them. They were a lot older than me.
The Whitaker brothers caught the attention of everyone in the bar. “Everyone is staring,” I said quietly.
Jessie nodded. “Including us. I don’t think they come back to town much. They usually keep to themselves on the Whitaker Ranch out west if they ever visit. Ever since Luke got famous, they’re kind of famous too. I don’t think they like the attention.”
I wondered if Luke was in town as well. After high school, he’d gone off to play college ball, then played pro for a few years.
Football had never interested me but I had watched all of his games, even the one that benched him for good.
Now he was on a sports network as a commentator, more famous now than when he played.
I finished my drink. “I’ll see you later. I need to go home and think about my life. And I need to find a way to break the news of my layoff to my parents before the holiday so I don’t ruin Thanksgiving.”