Chapter 19 – The Breakdown
For the first time in ages, Gunter felt like crap. His infinite supply of sunshine had dimmed. He swung his legs on the edge of the stage in the Crystal Tower Theater, his mind stuck in an endless reel of images that haunted him all morning.
He could envision the disappointment on the faces of Mr. Crystal, Porsha and Jerry when he missed the pitch meeting. Well, Crystal's was more outraged, but what mattered was that Gunter was responsible for it. He told them he was dependable and failed to come through. Jimmy Crystal, Mr. Redshore City himself, took a vested interest in his creativity, and had nothing to show for believing in him. How could he let them all down like that? He wanted it so badly. Or maybe he just thought he did.
Nightmares were not a common event for Gunter, thankfully, but his sleep was so restless that he might have preferred one. He had not realized the world he was walking into until Buster laid it out the night before. He didn't know anything about TV. Ignorance never stopped him before, but fear did. He was afraid of what he'd lose. He was so used to his theater family that he almost forgot what it was like before them, drifting from job to job, trying to find his true place in this new country. In the TV world, he would not have Mr. Moon's endless optimism, or the support of his dance partner Rosita. He wouldn't see Meena's shy smile, or be touched by Johnny's empathy, or admire Ash's sharp wit. He'd also miss his newer friends Nooshy, Porsha, Clay and Roxy.
Porsha's voice was the first thing that alerted Gunter to their presence. Racking his brain for a quick explanation to give, Gunter didn't realize the rapidly approaching footsteps weren't coming from a brisk walk but a full-on sprint until it was too late. The world shrank beneath him as he was effortlessly heaved into the air like he weighed nothing, his only clue to what was happening being a flash of teeth and a white mane.
"You and me, we need to have a little chat," came Crystal's gravelly voice, the last two words spilling with anger.
"Daddy, no!" Porsha screamed.
Polished onyx flooring whizzed by as the wolf tore across the massive stage in record time, back, back into the depths of the backstage area, carrying Gunter in his grip like the hog was light as a feather. Porsha and Jerry followed, their panicked pleas and shouts ignored, unable to catch up. A crowd started to emerge to see what all the fuss was about.
Whatever Crystal was planning, he couldn't get answers here. Too many eyes, too much interference. They didn't understand him or his methods. He barged into the wardrobe department with Gunter in tow, locking the door behind him.
"Daddy, don't do this!" Porsha cried, banging against the door.
"Sir, please! You're better than this!" Jerry yelled.
"What happened?" Rosita asked, racing up to them.
Porsha's puffy cheeks were disheveled from the stress. "Gunter didn't show up to the pitch meeting and now my dad locked himself in there with him! We have to get in there before he does something crazy!"
Rosita gasped. "Johnny!" she called. "Johnny, help us break down the door!"
Inside, Jimmy tossed Gunter across the room like a sack of garbage. Gunter crawled away as the wolf stalked him, spewing venom from his mouth.
"You think I was too stupid to put two and two together? Like I wouldn't see through this little charade?"
"No! Mr. Crystal, please be understanding..." Gunter whined.
Shockwaves of rage rippled through the wolf's fur. As Gunter stared into Jimmy's icy wells of vengeance, he understood—this was what Buster saw that fateful day. No mercy, just fathoms of hate within.
"Couldn't just let it go, could you? Was this some long con from the beginning? Convince me to let my guard down, make me feel like you needed me, pretend to be my—a... friend. All so you could get revenge for Moon and make me look like a fool again!"
"It is not like zat!"
Gunter was back on his feet but stumbled through a rack of costumes. Jimmy tossed the rack aside with startling strength, a feat that would've impressed Gunter if the wolf weren't currently gunning for him.
"You think I'm gonna let some two-bit amateur loser like you kill my comeback?"
"I am not a loser."
"Even your own friends think you're a loser! The only reason you ever put your name on a script is because I gave you the chance! If it weren't for me you'd still be the guy in the back that talks and dances funny while the real stars of the show shine!"
"You can't talk to him like that!" Rosita shouted through the door, though she doubted the wolf was even aware.
Johnny rammed his shoulder against the door several times, to no avail. He tried to fight back the icy dread flowing through his veins but he couldn't ignore his heart slamming against his chest.
It was happening.
Again.
Crystal snapped and grabbed Buster while he was standing right there, and all he could do was helplessly watch as the two went up the elevator to impossible heights, only for the koala to come freefalling back down. Now another one of his friends was trapped with Crystal, and the only thing stopping him was this bloody door. His father could rip it off the hinges easily. Why was he so weak?
Before he could resume, Johnny felt a tug at his leg and looked down to find Buster pulling him back.
"Don't, you'll hurt yourself," the koala warned. "We need another way in."
"I can pick the lock," Aiden offered. The lemur fished a small pick from his back pocket and got to work. "Please, no questions about how I learned this."
"That ain't how you pick a lock, mate," Nooshy complained. "Anyone got a credit card? I'll get this open in a jiffy."
Johnny still felt uselessly. His dad knew how to pick locks even if he didn't actually need the skill. Johnny's skill set mostly revolved around the truck.
"I don't care who picks it, just get us in there!" Rosita ordered.
Gunter called himself putting distance between himself and Jimmy when he hurdled a table but tripped on some loose fabrics, sending him tumbling onto the floor. The wolf never stopped his pursuit or changed his pace.
"I hyped you up to a room full of execs that wouldn't even know you existed under normal circumstances," Jimmy growled. "They thought I made you up!"
"I am sorry!"
"Sorry don't cut it! Every time, every single time I give Moon or one of his friends an inch, you take a mile, and it always blows up in my face! Why did you do this to me!?"
Gunter collapsed on his knees as if the fight had been sucked right out of him by an invisible vacuum.
"I was scared," the hog choked out in a half-sob. "I have ze freezing feet!"
The absurdity stopped Jimmy in his tracks. "You mean cold feet?" Gunter let out a pained moan of affirmation.
Jimmy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then started the mantra. "I can't always control my circumstances, but I can control how I respond to them." When he opened them again, he no longer saw the conspirator that humiliated him in front of a bunch of high-powered executives. Here was the shivering, sniveling hog that came to his home with a binder full of ideas, desperate to win his approval.
He was still pissed, but no longer blinded.
"Hey," Jimmy said, crouching down and stripping most of the edge from his voice. "You got scared? You were more excited for the pitch meeting than I was. What the heck happened?"
"I was not wanting to let you down! You listened to me! You took me seriously!"
He always saw Gunter as a simpleton, but in an endearing way. He did not have Moon's shrewd business sense. When Moon first threw Calloway's name around, it was a means to an end. Gunter just wanted to be heard.
"What scared you?" he asked. Gunter sniffled, not just holding back tears but what he was about to say. "Even after everything that went down between me and Moon, I took a chance on you. You owe me the truth, Gunter."
"Jah." Gunter wiped the remaining tears away. "Ze truth. I was working on Out of Ziss World with Mr. Moon last night—"
"Why does he have you making last minute changes to a show that's on its way out?"
"He wants it to go out with, like, a major bang. Zen he told me about how scary and lonely TV production is, and that you wouldn't help me..."
"I should've known," Jimmy hissed. "Moon. It's always Moon." He got up and left the pig without another word, striding over to the door and throwing it open. Nooshy and Aiden fell into the doorway in a heap; Jimmy stepped over them without a glance. Rosita ran inside to check on Gunter.
Jimmy made a beeline for Buster, mustering all the self-control he had not to yank the koala off the ground for a face-to-face meeting.
"You talk a good game about second chances and forgiveness, but I don't think you really thought that all the way through," Jimmy said.
Buster stood his ground, but his brows quivered with a hint of worry. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Mr. Crystal, but you can't just storm in here screaming and—"
Jimmy let out a cynical chuckle. "You got scared, Moon. Part of the reason your shtick even works is because you can just point the finger at someone else, play the victim and say they're stopping your dream. But since you can't write me off as the enemy anymore, that means your friends can get to know me and start to accept you for who you really are. Once you realized your mistake, you had to put a stop to it. You had to make me the bad guy again, at least with Gunter."
A crowd of cast and crew surrounded them like a fighting pit, the swarm of faces watching them with a range of anticipation to apprehension.
"Mr. Crystal, this is paranoia talking," Buster said, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. This was already ugly and the spectators weren't making it any better. "No one is trying to make you a bad guy."
"Lies! I got to know more about Gunter in the weeks before the pitch meeting than you have since he joined your little troupe. You had no clue about the cannibal story. Did you know he can fly a helicopter? How about that time he trained to be a nurse? You saw the connection I made with him, the one you never did, and you got scared. Scared and jealous. I've got clout and experience you don't. I can make things happen you can only dream of. That's why you tried to tank the pitch meeting."
Rosita emerged from the wardrobe department with Gunter in tow, using a tissue to clean his face. Gunter let out a few quite sniffles but seemed to be fine physically.
"I never tried to tank anything," Buster said. "We're all supportive of Gunter."
"Is that right? The night before the pitch meeting you freak him out about TV being cold and lonely? You tell him I won't be there for him? That don't sound nothing like the guy that wants to marry optimism." Jimmy turned to Gunter. "Or did I imagine that?"
Gunter cringed and Rosita held him close as she said, "You've said enough to him!"
"If Gunter changed his mind, you should respect his wishes," Buster said. "I wasn't trying to scare him, but I did think he needed to hear the truth."
Jimmy moved in closer, his body towering over Buster. "There you go lying again, Moon. You know all about respecting someone's wishes, don't you? The moment I met you started with a lie and it'll end with one!"
"He doesn't have a gag reflex!" Aiden cried out.
Jimmy gestured wildly at the lemur in a mix of confusion and outrage. "Why did he say that? Who even is that!?"
"It doesn't matter," Buster replied, his voice simmering. He was steadily losing his fear of the wolf. Being screamed at like this, excoriated and humiliated in front of his troupe and colleagues, started to test his patience. He'd forgotten the power dynamics at Crystal Entertainment had completely changed. Jimmy had no power here. He didn't have to placate him. "This arrangement isn't going to work if you keep assuming everything I do is under false pretenses. But you're just going to keep harping on me about that, aren't you? 'Moon's a liar! Moon's a liar!' You went on TV and shouted that to the whole world! Everyone already knows! You don't have to keep saying it!"
"I keep saying it because you keep doing it!"
Porsha stepped forward. "Daddy, that's enough!" She touched his shoulder but he brushed her off.
"Like I'm the only one that ever told a lie? I recall you standing right over there on that stage in front of a packed house taking credit for a show you tried—and failed—to stop from happening!"
"Ooooh, you really got me there, Moon," Jimmy said, cupping the imaginary wound over his heart. "Considering that all I did was provide the budget, give you creative freedom, let you use my venue, set you up with laborers, bought the materials, covered all the wages, untangled the music licensing and costs, and just about everything else I forgot to mention that goes into running a show of that size and scope, I can see why you think I didn't deserve any of the credit. Yeah, I'm sure Out of this World would've financed itself. Guess you broke into my building and conned me into backing the project for shits and giggles. It's not like you have a habit of begging rich people for money."
It's not like you have a habit of begging rich people for money.
...Begging rich people for money...
Buster grit his teeth, bawled his little fists. Even he had his limit, and that dig flew miles past it. "I... DO NOT... beg rich people for money!"
"Another lie! It's like a personality disorder with you," Jimmy said. "Don't forget, Cleo drew up a whole file on you, then I did one of my own. You mooched off your daddy, you mooched off your best friend, mooched off his grandmother, then you mooched off me. I'm one in a long line of marks. Face it, you haven't built a single goddamn thing in this life without sponging off someone else. You're not a loser; you're a parasite!"
Buster felt like he was in front of Walter Kilborn again, being dismantled with surgical precision in front of an audience. And much like that interview, his anger was starting to boil over.
"Oh, I'm a parasite? It pains me to say this Mr. Crystal, but sometimes you're... you're just... a big dick!"
"Correction: the biggest dick. If you need confirmation you can ask Cleo. Or Jerry. Their eyes don't lie."
"W-what?" Jerry squeaked in utter shock.
Jimmy took Buster's stunned silence as admission that he won the battle and backed off, but once he saw the faces of the crowd surrounding him, he realized he was the only one pleased with his performance.
"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm saying what none of you have the guts to say!" he said, an accusing claw sweeping across the crowd. "What is this, Stockholm Syndrome? Aren't you tired of the schemes and the lies, of sneaking into places you don't belong and looking over your shoulder hoping this performance hits just right so everyone goes along with it instead of holding you accountable and tanking your careers?"
Fed up, he threw his arm up in dismissal. "I'm outta here! Let's go, Jerry!"
Once again, Jimmy found himself storming out of the back of the Crystal Tower Theater. And once again, Porsha found herself throwing the glass doors open to chase after him.
"Wait!" she called out. Surprisingly, he did, but the side glance he gave her was expectant and tired. "First of all, ew. No one wants to hear about your junk, Daddy."
"What do you mean 'ew'? You wouldn't even be here if your mother and I hadn't—"
Porsha covered her ears. "Vomitrocious! I was hoping therapy would help you get better, but..."
Jimmy shrugged. "What? Nobody got hurt!"
"You locked Gunter in a room and nobody knew what you were doing to him. After you left him in tears you went and said all those nasty things to Mr. Moon."
"Was anything I said wrong? Somebody needed to call out Moon!"
"It's not about being right or wrong, it's about how you treat others." Porsha sighed. "This happens every time. I want my friends to see you the way that I do, but now I'm starting to think... that version of you might not exist. Maybe it's always been in my head."
"Is this the part where you guilt me? Leverage our relationship again? I shouldn't be surprised. When Damian Dallas first said you were just using me, that you didn't really care, I thought he was clueless. But I can't shake the feeling. The pieces are there. You picked them over me!"
Porsha's jaw dropped. "How can you say something like that?"
"Tell me that I'm wrong! No matter what they do, you always see me as the bad guy. It's always about taking their side. That intervention back in my office, was that really about helping me or convincing me to let Moon off the hook?"
"Of course it was about helping you! Why can't you see that?"
"Question is, why can Dallas see what I see?"
There was that name again. The hazy form of an opossum formed in Porsha's mind, tainted like a bad memory. "Isn't Dallas one of those rich jerks you go to lunch with? You're taking the side of some stranger you don't even like over your own daughter?"
Jimmy paused for a moment, almost for effect, before he delivered his retort. "You mean like I should have with Moon?"
"What?" Porsha's initial confusion was replaced with dread when she realized what her father meant. "I..."
"You told me he fired you. He said he didn't. I took your word over his and look what that got me."
Her body was heavy. The guilt she evaded for so long caught up with her. It was the size of Big Daddy, and it decided to scale her like its own personal Empire State Building. No one had called her on that before, and that just added to the guilt. The closest anyone got was Cleo. At one point she was afraid she might even be considered an accomplice for almost killing Buster; after all, she riled her father up. She wanted him to retaliate.
"You did this whole song and dance, literally, making yourself out to be some poor little rich girl so everyone would let you off the hook, but that don't do nothing to change the fact that you manipulated me. You manipulated me, then you stabbed me in the back. I sat in jail for months with those two moments as my last memories of you since you never bothered to see me. So ya wanna know why I'm taking Dallas seriously? It's 'cause you haven't done a lot to convince me he's wrong."
"You're just... lashing out. That's what you do when you feel bad. You lash out and make everyone else feel bad too." Porsha's vision went blurry from wetness; she had to get out of here. She turned her back on her father and headed back to the theater.
"That don't make me wrong!" Jimmy called after her.
As Porsha reached for the doors to the theater, she caught a distorted glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass. She was becoming that girl, the one that always cries and runs away when things get tough. She never wanted to be that girl.
Wiping her tears before they could truly start, Porsha marched back to her father, pushed down all the guilt and fear that troubled her, and gave him a piercing look that could rival one of his own.
"I'm... sorry," she began. "I shouldn't have told you Mr. Moon fired me. I shouldn't have gotten you upset. I wanted you to retaliate and I didn't think about how it would make you feel to be used like that. But what you did after that... that is not my fault. You think I don't care about you? I could've walked away and cut you out of my life. After seeing what you did to Mr. Moon, I think most would. But I'd rather help you get better, even if that means putting up with some tantrums and meltdowns, than not have you in my life at all."
"She does care about you, sir," Jerry spoke up. They both looked down in surprise, forgetting that he'd always been there. "Take it from someone that does, too. It's... not easy to love you, but we do anyway."
When Jimmy's shoulders began to falter and his gaze broke away, Porsha knew their combination of words managed to break through to him.
"I know I still need to get a handle on this empathy business, but if you were upset with me, why didn't you come to me?" Jimmy asked. "Why help a bunch of shady performers that you already knew I was having trouble with?"
Porsha knelt down next to Jerry and rubbed his head. "Jerry, could you go over to Alfonso's truck and get us all some waffle cones?" He nodded and made his way over to the truck, which was currently being run by the orangutan that worked with Alfonso. Porsha then took her father by the hand and led him over to one of the empty tables at the pavilion. Once they sat down, Porsha contemplated how to get her feelings across. Their relationship had been, on many levels, transactional. She asked and he gave. Sometimes she didn't have to ask at all. But they rarely ever had those quiet moments together where they asked each other about their feelings or their true needs.
Now the spotlight was on her to confront the questions she'd been fleeing. Porsha needed her father to understand what it was like to be her.
"I thought I messed everything up and they all hated me," Porsha murmured, her eyes flickering between the table and her father. "I know the only reason I got in the show in the first place is because you told Mr. Moon to give me the role. When they said they wanted me back, I just wanted to show them and the world it wasn't a mistake for me to be there. I didn't really think about what would happen afterwards. And... you're kinda hard to talk to sometimes."
"You still should've tried."
"I'll try harder next time, but you have to try to be open, okay? I got caught up in the moment but I wasn't trying to hurt you. I hope that means something and helps you get past this. Nothing's supposed to hurt forever."
Jimmy didn't respond, but he did dwell on those last words. He wasn't sure he agreed—some things in life just never stopped hurting. Sometimes, that pain defined what it meant to be alive.
"Can't stay stuck in the past, Daddy!" Porsha said suddenly, some of her bubbly personality resurfacing. "We have to make the best of what's happening now. Think about this way: If you didn't convince Mr. Moon to let me do the show, I wouldn't have the friends I do now. Life's funny that way. Maybe if you'd let the show go on that night instead of trying to stop it, they'd be your friends now too. Maybe things wouldn't be such a mess."
She almost regretted saying that watching her father's nostril's flare up in real time.
"Oh, there'd still be a mess!" he shot back. "I never taught you to lay back and take it, and I seriously doubt Moon believes in that philosophy either, so don't tell me to do it!"
"Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion." She knew when she touched a nerve and changed the subject. "You know, Gunter was only scared. It's not like he tried to tank the meeting on purpose."
"He still chose not to say anything."
"But if you give him his confidence back, we can pitch it again."
"I don't know. I hated every second of that meeting. It reminded me why I like to be the one on the other side of that table."
"You should still apologize to him."
Jimmy grunted. Well, that's the best she could expect from her father while he was stuck in his feelings. Still, there was something else she couldn't help prying at. That awful little opossum seemed to be getting in her dad's head.
"You know what I don't understand, Daddy? Why you would even listen to that Dallas jerk."
"Dallas... was a family man." Noticing Porsha's blank look, Jimmy elaborated, "Don't ya remember his family tragedy? It was all over the news a few years back. He was the one that found his son's body after he..."
Porsha's eyes widened and she covered her mouth. "Oh, that was their family. That was so horrible. There were a lot of discussions about mental health in school after that happened."
"After his son died, his marriage dissolved and he's been stuck thinking about the family he doesn't have anymore. Put the memory of his kid on a pedestal and compares everyone's relationships to that. It's obnoxious, but I know it's coming from a real place, so I tolerate his opinion. Sometimes."
They stayed like that for a moment, occupied with the thoughts of lost loved ones and shattered families.
"That's not us, is it?" Porsha asked. "A broken family after mom died."
"We're not broken. We're not perfect, but we're definitely not broken." Jimmy spotted something out of the corner of his eye and allowed himself a small smile. "Besides, we have something their family didn't."
"What's that?"
"We have a Jerry."
Juggling three waffle cones, Jerry hurried toward the table and began handing them out.
Jimmy regarded the ice cream with skepticism until he tasted it. "Huh, salted caramel," he remarked in surprise and delight.
"I know you don't eat ice cream often, but I remember that was your favorite," Jerry said.
"Oh that's so sweet!" Porsha squealed. Jimmy threw her a glare that told her to knock it off, but she was already out of her seat and managing her phone with her free hand. She swung around to the other side of the table and pressed in close against her dad. "Jerry, get in!" He got in the frame just in time for their ice cream selfie.
"Really?" Jimmy sneered.
"Don't act like you don't like being in front of a camera," Porsha retorted and stuck out her tongue. She admired the picture for a second before posting it social media with a simple caption:
"Not broken, and getting better every day."