Blandview High Musical

12. Broken

"Oh you're not serious. Back to Los Angeles?" Renee snapped, leaning back in the chair that she was seated in. Currently, she and Lawrence were sitting in the lobby of the hotel having breakfast. She sliced into the stacked crepes that were glistening with whipped cream and berries. "Out of the question." She said, spearing the food and eating it. "Renee, I don't think you understand how important this is to my career...to-to-to our livelihood." He said. She wrinkled her brow. "No. We're staying here in Maine. If need be, you return to LA alone. Make a phone call if you need to, I don't care. I'm not leaving this hotel." She snapped. Lawrence leaned back in his seat. "Do you understand how important control of the Strip is?" He asked. "Oh my god...here we go again." Renee grumbled, throwing her napkin on the table. "It's very important, detrimental in fact!" He said. "Lawrence, it's a worn out side of town! I don't understand why you pine after it the way you do!" She snapped. Lawrence's eyes flickered around to the people who were turning their attention towards them.

"It's useless." She stated. "It is not. You realize that is PRIME real estate." "No, I realize you've completely lost your mind." She quipped. "With the sale of it, we could go all the way to fucking Europe." He said, his voice was low and gritty. He leaned across the table. "Marcus is going to throw down 5 million dollars for it." He lied. "No, he isn't. Every time we go through with this, you get the short end of the stick. Last time it was 12 million and you walked away with 750k. He plays you every time! The answer is no." "I'm not asking, I'm telling you." Lawrence said. "I don't care what you're telling me. You're going to get yourself either thrown in jail or dead and I'm not spending the rest of my life alone." She said. "Besides, if you should fall...all the assets would be seized and I'd be penniless. Think about that." Just then, the waiter came over to see if everything was alright.

Later that morning, Lawrence slipped out to the backside of the hotel to make a phone call. "Chapman Industries, how may I help you?" "I need to speak with Mr. Chapman, immediately." "He's in a meeting, can I take a message?" The woman asked. "No, what you can do is take the fucking phone in there and interrupt their shitty meeting." Lawrence said. The woman went silent. "One moment, sir."

"No! You explain to me again how this is going to work! We've attempted to acquire the Strip for the past twenty years and now we're so close but one person won't sell!" One of the men screamed. Lonnie leaned back in the chair, seeming bored with their constant whining and bickering. "Mr. Chapman?" A voice said from the door. "Not now, Helena." He said, dismissively. "Sir, it's a phone call." "I told you I wasn't taking any calls." He growled. "Sir, it's a Mr. Tondre..." she said. His attention perked up. "Gentlemen, please take a five minute break. I have to take a call." Lonnie said, getting up from his seat. The men groaned in protest before continuing on with their arguments. "Lawrence, are you in LA?" Lonnie asked. "No, LA is a no go. I can't do it." "And just why not? You seemed more than confident last night." He said. "It's my wife...she's worried you won't pay me enough to do this." Lonnie scoffed. "You're running the most sensational purchase in the history of California on your wife's whims? Put her on a jet to Bora Bora and call it a fucking day. You have the power and you're just giving it away?" "It's not that simple. I can't expect you to understand because you don't—" "Don't what? Don't have a wife? You're growing soft, Lawrence. Don't make me tell Marcus that you might be a detriment to this company's future. You know how that scenario ended with Jacob." Lawrence gave an agitated sigh. "If you are not on a plane to Los Angeles in the next...hour and a half, I will make your life a living fucking hell." He snapped. Lawrence couldn't respond as Lonnie hung up the phone and moved back into the conference room. "Gentlemen! Where were we?" He asked, shutting the door.

Loud knocking reverberated the open air around Frankie's apartment door. "Alright!" He shouted, stumbling around the living room towards the front door. He opened it to find a woman standing on the other side. His landlord; a Mrs. Cooper. "Francisco, you're late." She said. He groaned, rubbing his head. "What?" "The rent, Frankie." She snarled. "The rent? Oh shit...the rent..." he muttered. "Oh shit is quite correct." She said, waving the envelope. "For 5 months, you've been late. You keep telling me you'll pay, you'll pay and I never receive a dime!" She snapped. "Things have been slow at the diner. I'm trying to work everything out!" He protested. She smacked her lips together. "If I don't have the bill, paid in full by the end of the week, you are out!" She threatened. She slapped the bill in his hand and went storming down the metal staircase. He groaned and slammed the door shut.