Talk Of The Town

There’s a town on Florida’s west coast that you’ve never heard of. The people that grow up there never escape. The ones that arrive there, do so to die. You might mistake it for a nursing home gone wrong, heaven’s waiting room if you will.

So it shouldn’t be a surprise that after Jason managed to escape this place four years ago, he hadn’t returned. When he meets someone new in Chicago and they ask the obligatory “where’re you from,” he gives them the name of the closest city. If it wasn’t for the death of his grandmother, he never would have come back.

Admittedly his life in the city wasn’t perfect. His job as a secretary to an unscrupulous attorney was unfulfilling at best. He had hoped it would be a temporary job to pay the bills until an improv troupe discovered him; but he hadn’t been on stage in over a year, his confidence was shaken. Still on those nights when he laid in bed, fretting over a failed audition, one fact managed to soothe his bruised ego, “At least I’m not back home right now.”

He just arrived at his grandmother’s beach house, newly bequeathed unto him, when a familiar tone rang. He had been back in town for six hours (long enough to grab coffee, attend the wake, and buy a sack of weed from his old biology teacher), yet his grindr had already exploded with messages from guys in high school who never looked his way. He wasn’t much to look at growing up; but walking everywhere, existing off salads and rice cakes, and ransacking the thrift stores of Chicago had resulted in an extensive image upgrade. Jason smiled. Being home stirred up a lot of emotions, but he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying his newfound big fish status.

He examined the weed he just purchased off Mr. Young. He scoffed, “figures.” Being spoiled by the sticky green buds of primo city shit, this small town dirt weed was a major let down. But it was all he could find, not knowing anyone else in town who dealt, so he would have to make do.

His phone buzzed again and he reached for it. He had been expecting this text. He eagerly read the message from his old friend, Alan. Leaving now, be there in 10

I’ll start rolling the reunion blunt, Jason quipped.

Hold off on that, Alan replied, I have something to show you.

In the four years since he left, the town had added a shopping center containing a TJ Maxx, JC Penny, and two different froyo chains. It was a big deal on the town’s Facebook page. What could Alan have to show him?

When they met in school, Jason and Alan fought over the same girl’s affection. It was months later, when they discovered they shared a mutual admiration of dick, that they would put their feud behind them. Jason was reflecting on their humble beginnings when a car horn blared. Eagerly, he grabbed his things and ran outside.Alan brought Jason to their town’s community theatre, Stage East. They had only seen two plays there, both times they left during intermission. The rum filled Coke bottles they snuck in couldn’t make the off-key cast of Finnian’s Rainbow or the unforgivable butchering of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf palatable. Apparently the rest of the town shared their sentiment, as the building was abandoned.

Jason laughed, “They shut this place down?”

“There was a fundraiser to save it. My money, however, went towards claiming the space for myself.”

Jason was flabbergasted. “You didn’t!”

“I did, It was a steal! I couldn’t pass it up!” Alan was dead serious; but he couldn’t look Jason in the eye. He was holding something back.

Jason knew what was coming next. “You can’t expect me to help you with this. Alan, it’s a lost cause. It just shut down!”

Alan’s reply was preloaded, “If we did it right, people would come. I know you hate your job, it’s the running theme of your blog.”

“I just have to stick it out a little longer,” Jason said defensively.