Chapter 3 – The Contract

Twinkling starlight invited Buster into the cosmos, and he obliged.

On some level he knew he was dreaming. He should stop that. Wake up. Wake up! But this was the most serene dream he'd had in months. He was lighter than air, soaring through deep space to witness the birth of star systems, the chromatic explosion of nebulae, the whirling galaxies cast against the obsidian beauty of the vacuum. There he was, the first koala in space!

There was his family, too, flying alongside him, discovering timeless secrets far beyond the confines of Earth. The incomprehensible vastness of space had a way of making problems seem distant and insignificant. Buster could stay here forever. But a curious thing happened. The nearest nebula came to life; the interstellar clouds merged and shaped themselves into the image of Buster's father. Buster gazed into the massive eyes of his cosmic father's image and felt a strange hollowness inside. Before he could even contemplate what that meant, the clouds were burnt away, violently incinerated by the sudden birth and eruption of a supergiant star.

Buster knew what he was looking at before the star fully took shape. A symbol of rage. A celestial version of Jimmy Crystal's head made of roiling helium and hydrogen. The wolf was invading his dreams again and held nothing but contempt for Buster's existence. Supergiant Jimmy bore the same look the real Jimmy had right before he dropped Buster to his presumed death.

Even now the koala struggled to wrap his head around how things went south so fast. People had been angry with him before. He'd seen Jimmy angry before! But something about that encounter at the Crystal Tower Theater was different. Jimmy was so twisted with rage that he appeared deranged. How could someone become so enveloped in wrath? How could someone harbor so much animosity... for him?

Supergiant Jimmy opened his maw and Buster found himself pulled toward the depths of the star with a startling swift and supernaturally strong force. If he didn't do something soon, he'd be devoured whole. Hurtling toward burning depths, Buster opened his mouth to scream and—

Relief washed over Buster as his ringing phone jostled him out of that dream. The nightmares had become so predictable that various members of his troupe had to wake him up over the months when he thrashed about and cried out in his sleep. He appreciated their concern, but it was humiliating to be treated with kid gloves. He was the caretaker, the nurturer that helped elevate them into becoming the best versions of themselves. If Buster was the one that needed uplifting and coddling, something had gone very wrong somewhere.

Buster fumbled for the phone on the desk next to his bed. The bedroom was pitch black save for the harsh light emanating from the phone's screen and a sliver of moonlight flowing through the window. He blinked as his eyesight adjusted to the screen. 4:28 AM. Who'd be calling at this hour? Then he read the name: Lester McCray.

...McCray!?

A small curse left Buster's mouth as he thumbed the green answer button multiple times before it finally responded to his touch.

"Uhhh... hello, Mr. McCray?" Buster hated how groggy he sounded. Granted, the sun hadn't even come up yet, so he had an excuse...

"Moon, hello? I know it's a crazy hour, but I just got a moment to myself..." the walrus said on the other line. Lester McCray was a bigshot like Jimmy Crystal, and the owner of the Majestic Palace. Whereas Jimmy enveloped himself in luxury, McCray wore it directly—his gold-encrusted tusks were a sight to behold. From what Buster could tell of the walrus the few times they'd met directly, he wasn't quite as volatile as the wolf, but after how things went down with Jimmy... well, he was much more aware of his employer's temperament, and handled their interactions with extra delicacy. Buster had no desire to discover how McCray dispatched his enemies. One belly flop and the koala would be a pancake on the pavement.

"I'm sure it's important if you're calling right now, sir," Buster said.

"Moon, it's not good news." There was an exasperated edge to McCray's voice that felt like an arctic wind against Buster's spine. "The show's off."

A lump formed in Buster's throat. Not again. "S-sir, can I ask why?"

"Crystal sent a small army of lawyers last night citing breach of contract. Threats of all kinds of lawsuits were tossed around."

"You said you'd get us out of that contract," Buster said, softening his tone to be less accusatory. "You assured us there was nothing to worry about."

McCray let out a cross between a growl and a sigh. "I had my people working on it. I thought they'd have more time." More time? They'd been performing at the Majestic Theater for several months now. "Honestly, with the trial coming up, I thought Crystal and his team would have bigger fish to fry."

Buster tried to keep it together. "So... is that it? We're done? Finished? Washed up?"

"I wouldn't go that far," McCray said. "My people will keep looking into this, but until they figure something out, Out of This World is on hiatus." After a short silence, McCray added one last thing, "It's probably redundant to tell you this, but watch your back, Moon. I've seen Crystal go after people before but... not like this. I don't know what exactly happened between you two, but you must have cut him deep to his core. All he's seeing is red and I don't think his appetite for revenge is going to be satiated any time soon."

"Well, thanks for trying, I guess," Buster murmured.

"Good luck." McCray hung up, leaving Buster to sit in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts.

In truth, Buster knew he couldn't really blame McCray for caving in. Getting that gig at the Majestic Theater was the stuff of storybooks and fairy tales, a miraculous save that comes right before everyone lives happily ever after. Happily ever after wasn't real, though. There's always another chapter, and this next chapter involved hauling the baggage that came with producing Out of This World. Baggage Lester McCray was not obligated to deal with.

Getting back to sleep was out of the question; that phone call was a shot of adrenaline for Buster. Taking a seat at his desk, he flipped open his laptop and found a copy of the Crystal Entertainment contract in his files. He'd seen enough contracts in his days of running a theater to mostly parse what would be legal word salad for anyone else, just not quite adept enough to spot the loopholes and contradictions he was searching for.

But he had to try. What else could he do?

Buster pored over the contract details until the first vestiges of dawn crept through his window. He stretched with a yawn and rubbed his weary eyes before he called it quits and left his room. Clad in baby blue pajama pants a button up shirt, he wandered the halls of the place he and his troupe currently called their home away from home: a villa tucked away from the noise and lights of the Redshore strip.

Taking that bus to Redshore City had been such an impulsive decision that Buster hadn't thought out the logistics behind living in the city when they actually landed a residency. McCray had set them up in the Majestic Palace for as long as needed, and it was certainly appreciated. The absence Buster and his crew felt wasn't something particularly physical or material. Though the rooms weren't quite as luxurious as the Crystal Tower Hotel's, there was little to complain about. The problem was living out of your suitcase; it gave the feeling of being a permanent guest coasting on someone else's good will, a vagabond taking a slight reprieve from drifting. They had a yearlong residency at the Majestic Theater, and Buster wasn't sure if they should or even could endure that everlasting feeling of drifting in a strange land.

And that's when the little koala was struck with an idea: pool some of the money they got from the show, rent a house in the suburbs, and live together like a family. Buster floated the idea to the rest of the troupe, and they all agreed it was one of his best yet. After some scouting, they found the home that spoke to them, a villa on Macalester Road.

The five bedrooms were divided by giving the adults—Buster, Rosita, and Miss Crawly—their own rooms. Johnny and Gunter (a child at heart) roomed together while Meena, Ash and Porsha bunked together, on Porsha's insistence. Growing up an only child in a house way too big for her and her dad, she loved the thought of staying up all night talking to people her own age about whatever.

Buster's stroll ended in the den, the lounging room where they all gathered for TV, game nights, and anything else they could all do together. From the patio he could see the still water of the pool reflecting the soft light of dawn. Buster relished in the early morning tranquility while he could. With every beat of his heart, a wistful bit of nostalgia pulsed though his diminutive form. Why couldn't moments like this last forever? He'd have to tell everyone about Out of This World eventually. In this moment, it didn't quite feel real. But once they knew, everything will have changed.

The koala released a sigh much too big for his body and said, "Time to get this over with."

A very tired Moon troupe, still clad in their night clothes, was gathered in the den, some of them slouched or draped over the furniture much like discarded mannequins or life size plushes.

"This better be important, Moon," Ash said, head resting on the coffee table and eyes stuck in a half-lidded state. "Or else it could've waited until a decent hour."

"Late nights and early mornings don't mix," Johnny, perched on the couch's armrest next to Porsha, said through a yawn. He worked his jaw as much as he could, hating the feel and taste of morning mouth.

"Uhh..." Buster literally twiddled his thumbs as he hesitated in breaking the news. There was no point in holding off any longer; they'd find out eventually. "Oh, it's important. Frightfully so. McCray called early this morning to tell me that our show is on indefinite hiatus."

Buster was met with a chorus of confusion and outrage. Johnny fell off the couch in all the ruckus.

"Whoa, whoa!" Buster held his palms forward to calm them down. "Long story short, Crystal used breach of contract to scare McCray into shutting it down. So, until McCray figures something out... no performances, no rehearsals."

Porsha pulled her legs up to her chest, wanting to shrink out of existence. "I'm sorry about my dad," she murmured.

Rosita took a seat next to her, soothing the wolf girl by caressing her legs. "Oh, honey. You don't have to apologize. You're not responsible for anything he does."

Slowly but surely, Porsha emerged from the shell of her own making. "Yeah, but, like... maybe I could go down to the jail and..."

"Are you okay with that?" Rosita asked. "Is that what you want? You shouldn't feel compelled to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Porsha gave her a small, sad smile.

Johnny rubbed his sore posterior. "So, what do we do now?"

"We weather the storm," Buster said, then he gave his family one of his brightest smiles. "This is just a temporary setback. I truly believe we'll be back on our feet in no time! Besides, you know what I like to say..."

"Dream big dreams?" Johnny said.

"No, not that. The other thing."

"When you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up?" Meena offered.

Buster shook his head. "Appropriate, but not the one I'm looking for." When he drew blank stares, he threw his hands on his hips, cocked his head to the side and said, "Really? Come on, guys! I stan optimism!"

The koala looked none too pleased with the groans that filled the room.

"Moon, no," Ash said, sliding her palm across her face.

"It'll catch on!"

"If you say so," Gunter rattled off with copious amounts of sarcasm.

"Hmph, you'll see," the koala said. "Anyway, on the bright side, this means we've got a lot more free time. Think about what you want to do with your day!"

"I know what I'm about to do," Johnny said, dreaming of the pillow he was going to bury his face in as he shambled back to his room.

Buster couldn't quite explain where the optimism was coming from, but watching his troupe tackle the morning filled him with hope. But hope or not, someone would have to call the rest of the stage and production crew to let them know that their jobs were, well... frozen. Thankfully, a lot of them were freelance so if things didn't clear up soon, they'd at least be able to look for new gigs.

"I'll put the word out," Miss Crawly said, seemingly reading Buster's mind as she shuffled back to her own room.

Buster let out a short sigh of relief. "I've got the whole day ahead of me, what should I do...?"

Certainly, nothing revolving around Jimmy Crystal.

A/N

I can see Jimmy sitting in his cell, spinning a makeshift wheel of misfortune filled with theoretical punishments to pass the time. One particularly petty entry on the wheel – "personally trademark all of Buster Moon's catchphrases and fleece them for all they're worth."