After the Sun

Prologue: Mr. Big Time

Moon's P.O.V.

The foundation is crooked.

I mean, I'm no architect but when I'm in my bed I feel like I'm going to fall out. When I'm sitting at my desk, I have to keep my feet firm on the floor so my chair doesn't roll away. And my pictures! Crooked. All of them. Every single one.

The most crooked one is the Moon Theatre's grand opening. The one with Rosita, Ash and the other singers. Except Mike. He couldn't make it due to "medical issues." He showed up two weeks ago with a jeweled cane but that's not new. He seemed fine to me. But I'm no doctor so what do I know?

I tap the picture so it evens out. I stand straight as I sigh, satisfied. The ladder wobbles and I shift right so I don't fall. As I said. Crooked foundation. Either that or my floor alone is unleveled.

I hear my intercom click on behind me. Ms. Crawley's elderly, bumpy voice comes across, saying, "Mr. Moon, there's a Mr. Shultz to see you."

I frown. "Shultz?" I know only one Shultz and he lives thousands of miles across the country. A guy like him would never come to the little city of San Howel.

I must take too long to answer because Ms. Crawley asks, "Shall I let him in, sir?"

"Yes, yes, let him in." I slide down the ladder, nearly toppling it when I hit the floor. I look at my pictures. All of them are of the theatre and its crew and performances. The past ten months have been wild with shows left and right. Yet, we still have time to have fun and be ourselves.

As I turn to my desk, I get a glance outside. It's dark and it's only seven-thirty. Winter is drawing upon us. Not that I care. Season's a season and the shows must go on.

I slip into my leather seat, gripping the desk so I don't go rolling into a wall. I enjoy my new office. It's roomy. It's big. And it has a glorious view of San Howel. My desk is facing the door this time. I have plants in every corner of my room and the back wall is completely make of glass. In the middle of the glass is a beam. On the beam is a picture of my dad and I. On my left is a wall of pictures. On my right is file cabinet. I don't even want to think about what's in them. I'll deal with all that later. I don't need no headache while some Shultz is here.

The door opens. I feel my grip loosen in disbelief. I was right. I can't believe I was right! Mr. Kitster Shultz is in my office, scanning it. His puma eyes cling to every inch of the room behind those black sun glasses. His orangish-yellow fur glares from Crawley's office.

Kitster Shultz is a big time producer. He's worked with Ozzy Oxbourne and The New Cats on the Block. He's also managed Rattleback and band like them. The band he's currently producing has been in the top ten for the past two months. They've become a worldwide sensation faster than any band I've known. He's a very successful puma, and he's standing in my office. What could he possible want?

"Mr. Buster Moon, I assume," he croaks in his deep voice.

It takes me a moment to shake out of my awed state. "Yes! Yes, sir. Uh…have a seat."

The puma slinks to the heavy leather seat and sits, relaxing back like it's his own office. This is one cool cat.

I fold my hands, forcing myself not to tug on my strangling bow tie. I feel the chair start rolling under me and I slam my elbows down so I don't roll away. "So, Mr. Shultz," I choke out, half-heartedly," What brings you to San Howel?" And my theatre.

Shultz taps his iPad, not caring to look at me but only glance. "Mr. Moon, I assume you know of the tension between my players and the band Heads and Tails."

I nod, "Yes, sir."

"Then you know the situation that has come up between the two."

I nod again, "Yes, sir." If he had come a day earlier, I would have had no idea what he was talking about."

I normally don't listen to the radio. I care about my theatre's problems not a superstars problems. Today, though, Meena, my star Elephant, brought in her portable radio, saying I need to be "more in tune with the world." So after an hour of listening, the announcer declared that two bands had called war on each other. They said to show who was better, they would gather a group of amateur singers, train them and see who does better. Meena declared it interesting but wished they had said what bands. I agreed. I also found it interesting that they were dragging amateurs into it. And I wondered who they were going to choose. I'd watch a war between bands if they had good amateurs. It might give me inspiration for the theatre. But now that Shultz is in my office, I realize I might not be able to watch the show. I might be in it.

Mr. Shultz continues, explaining why his tail is in San Howel and Moon Theatre. "My band and I have spent the last week looking for singers. Heads and Tails has picked the immediate collection so we've had to do deeper which led me and my lead singer here to the West Coast looking for talent."

I swallow," And you found it, sir?"

He doesn't even twitch. "That depends on you, Mr. Moon. I was about to give up when a Ms. Noodleman of San Howel called me saying her theatre had profitable talent."

Ms. Noodleman. As much as I find it hard to believe that Nana called Shultz in, the proof is right in front of me. Shultz wouldn't have come here because he watched a video. That's too low for someone of his stature.

"So…" I feel my heartbeat quicken," What did you think?"

Mr. Shultz finally looks at me. I see no emotion in his eyes but his jaw is set. "Well, I was not impressed with your theatres past, Mr. Moon. Show after show failed. Old Moon Threatre destroyed by indoor aquarium. Land taken by land lord only to be rebought by Ms. Noodleman whom you now work for. And you held your concert on private property when you could have been arrested."

I flinch. It's times like these when I wished I knew what the internet holds about me. Obviously too much. But then Shultz turns to my singers and I relax.

"But then I saw your performers and I liked what I saw."

"You did?"

"Yes. They are what we were looking for. Movers, loud and clear, and good. I sent the videos to my singer and agreed."

"May I ask where he is?"

"Hopefully a few minutes out. We have much to talk about, Mr. Moon."

My mind is spinning. They don't like me but they like the singers! With this deal, I could give them a chance they wouldn't have any other way. I could change their lives. But I must think of the theatre as well. There must be something for it and my performers.

I sit a little straighter, "What's in it for us?"

Shultz smiles as if he knows something I don't. "Why, what you wanted, Mr. Moon. A hundred grand."

My jaw drops and eyes bulge. A hundred grand. Like the prize money. All for the theatre. "You…you're serious!?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

I shake my head frantically, hoping I hadn't offended hi. "No, sir. It's an honor to be considered, sir."

As I say those words, I hear a car rev, then switch off. I turn to the windows to see in its dim reflection a very rich and shiny car.

"Ah, it seems my college has arrived," Shultz states. That makes me wonder what car he came in.

I turn back around and say," Is he as disappointed in me as you are?"

"No, but don't push it."

"Mr. Moon," Ms. Crawley's voice comes over the comm," There's a handsome boy to see you."

I bite my tongue. That crazy old lizard might scare him off. I forgot she is slipping and can't even remember to not get personal with the guests.

"Don't touch him, Ms. Crawley! I'm sure he's as porceline as you see him, but please don't touch him. Send him in."

"Yes, sir."

Seconds later, the door opens on the singer and I feel all my confidence go out the window. His feet make no sound as he swishes across the floor. Once he's at my desk, he declares," Mr. Moon, we have much to talk about."