Not once in his life did Brendon ever think he would be deathly afraid of a piece of paper with bold red lettering, but here he was.
He knew something was wrong the moment he rounded the corner and saw Ryan frantically talking with a man in a dark suit outside the jazz club, all the while Spencer sat on the curb with his weary head in his hands. Brendon's fears only grew worse when he stepped closer and saw the sign posted on the door.
Notice of Foreclosure - Bank Owned Property
The red lettering made his blood run ice cold, made the color drain from his skin. How had he not known about this? He knew The Spotted Cat was going through some financial troubles, but he never expected it to come to this. Why hadn't Spencer or Ryan told him? He would've gladly helped them out, despite running low on funds himself. He didn't know what to think, let alone know what to do.
Everything had gone so well the day before.
He continued forward still, despite his fear of the scene playing out before his eyes. Spencer didn't glance up at his arrival, but from where Ryan was standing, pleading with the man in the dark suit, he caught Brendon's eye, and Brendon was sure he'd never seen such a pained look in someone's gaze before.
"Sir, please," he heard Ryan say. His voice sounded so desperate, so distressed. It hurt Brendon to listen to. "Isn't there anythin' we can do?"
The man in the dark suit--he had to have been someone from the bank--merely shook his balding head. "I'm not sure about that, Mr. Ross," he said with a sigh. "Unless you can come up with all the needed money by the end of the month, I'm afraid we're gonna have to resell the building."
The end of the month? That was less than two weeks away. Brendon didn't know much about banking and finances, but it didn't take an idiot to know that that kind of money was impossible to get in less than two weeks. What were they supposed to do?
"Come on!" Ryan pleaded. "You've gotta give us more time than that! We're not made of money, clearly! Where are we supposed to get that kind of dough by the end of the month?"
The bank man shrugged. His apathetic demeanor was getting on Brendon's nerves. "You're askin' the wrong person, Mr. Ross. It's not my problem."
Ryan could only scoff at that point. His hands were balled into shaking fists at his side, his face twisted up into a distressed grimace. "You're a real crumb, ya know that? Not my problem. Isn't that what the bank's supposed to do? Help folks with financial problems?"
"Not in this situation, Mr. Ross," the bank man replied. He sounded bored with the conversation, and that only frustrated Brendon more. "Taking care of your foreclosure is not our top priority."
What Brendon wouldn't give to sock that man in his tight jaw. He could've simply posted the notice on the door and left, but instead, he decided to stay and chastise Ryan with his bored and apathetic attitude. Why were people from the bank always like that? Brendon didn't chase after a financial career for a reason. He hated those folks.
"Ya know what?" Ryan's breaking voice snapped him back to reality. "Just get outta here. We'll handle it ourselves. We don't need any of the damn bank's help."
It didn't surprise Brendon to see that the bank man didn't seem to care in the slightest. "You have a little under two weeks, Mr. Ross. After that....you can say goodbye to your jazz club."
Then he left the scene, taking his hoity-toity black briefcase with him.
Ryan broke down as soon as the man was out of sight, falling to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He didn't scream. He didn't wail. He merely sat with his face buried in his hands, and cried silently. And to Brendon, watching that was much worse.
He didn't know what to do. Spencer was still sitting on the curb, blankly staring down the street without a single word. Ryan was in pieces on the sidewalk, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and in the background, The Spotted Cat sat dark and abandoned, a terrifying foreclosure notice posted to the front door.
His entire world was crumbling to pieces before his very eyes.
"Spencer," he murmured, barely enough to be audible. He was too exhausted to even speak.
Spencer glanced up at the sound of his voice, but at the speed of a sloth. His blue eyes were tired and dim, not a single spark of vitality left in them. His skin was sickly pale. The bags under his eyes were as dark as the nighttime sky. He looked like death itself, and it worried Brendon. Why did he look so awful?
"It's done, Brendon," was all he could muster up. Even his voice sounded like it was losing its life. "There's nothin' we can do."
Brendon refused to believe it. Surely there was something they could do. Maybe he could talk to the bank, work out a plan. They couldn't get all the money in less than two weeks, but maybe he could ask for a loan, or beg them to extend their time limit. There had to have been something they could do. Anything. He refused to just sit there and watch as the bank took control over The Spotted Cat. No, he was going to do something about it. He didn't know what, but he was determined. He wasn't going to give up that easily.
He still had money leftover from his move. He could start by giving that to the bank. He could call his parents, his siblings, even Kenny. He was sure they'd be willing to help out, and if not, then he'd beg and plead for Dallon's help. He didn't want it to come to that, but Dallon was a rich man. He owned the Pontalba Apartments, for crying out loud. Surely he could spare enough money to free The Spotted Cat from foreclosure, right?
Brendon was in a panic. He couldn't think straight. His thoughts were becoming irrational, his mind too jumbled for coherent ideas. What would happen if The Spotted Cat really went into foreclosure? Spencer would lose his business. He and Ryan would lose their home. They would lose their entire lives, and just the thought of that alone made Brendon nauseous. He had to do something. He couldn't bear to see them suffer. They'd given him so much in his short time in New Orleans, and he was willing to do anything to return the favor.
He was going to save The Spotted Cat.
Ryan looked up then, his cheeks stained with tears and his eyes red and swollen. He looked like a lost, terrified animal caught in the wild, and the pain behind his gaze stabbed Brendon in the heart like a dull knife. He never thought he'd witness anyone in so much agony; he despised it.
"What are we gonna do, Bren?" he asked, his frail voice barely above a whisper. "It's over. It's all over. We're done for."
"No, we're not," was all Brendon could say. He refused to believe that this was the end of it all. He had only just arrived in New Orleans. He wasn't going to let the bank take The Spotted Cat without a fight.
Ryan sniffled, wiping away a stray tear with the sleeve of his shirt. "Then what's your bright idea?" he questioned. His voice quivered with every word. "There's nothin' left for us now."
But there was. Brendon was sure of it. He didn't know how to explain it to Ryan, because in all honesty, he didn't know what he was doing either, but it was the only idea he had, and he was willing to go on any plan that came to mind. He had to save The Spotted Cat.
He was going to Jon's.
~~~~~
I leave for New York City in two days wtf. I'm terrified but also excited. Anyone have any tips for not getting mugged or for someone with insane city claustrophobia? It would be appreciated because sometimes I can barely stand the towns slightly bigger than mine.
Also, we're gonna get back pretty late next Sunday, so next week's update will be quite a bit later than usual. Just a head's up. Right now we're scheduled to get back around 6 PM central standard time, so just be prepared for that :)
Hopefully I'll have time to write and brainstorm on the bus ride over because haha I haven't written in this story for like a month whoops and I'm running out of chapters I have saved up :)))
Love y'all! Remember to vote/comment/share with your pals! <3
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Mad as Jazzmen |1930s Ryden AU| ✔️
Fanfiction"It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing." * * * The Great Depression was, by far, one of the worst tragedies in the history of the world. People drowned in debt. Banks were ruined. The stock market was broken and unreliable. But one...
