In the Crown of the Circus King

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Midnight. All of the lights were slowly extinguishing, leaving only some parts of the New York town functioning. One of those places was a rusty bar called "The Other Side" where a young, well-dressed man was sitting alone near the bar stand, dreamily humming while downing another shot of whiskey. As he felt the burning liquid running down his throat, he barely scrunched his face, clearly showing he has gotten used to having the feeling of alcohol in his system at this point. He hit the shot glass back on the table, nodding for the bartender to continue filling it up.

"Rough day, Mr. Carlyle?" The bartender asked as he vigorously opened up a whiskey bottle, filling up the young mans' glass.

"You can say so, Daniel." He sheepishly answered, impatiently gripping the glass from the bartenders fingers and putting it close to his mouth, swigging it all down his throat again.

"D'y want to talk about it?"

Phillip slowly shook his head while flashing him a small thankful smile. He knew he would not tell anything new to Daniel. Hell, Phillip still did not understand how the bartender has not banned him out from this damned bar. He has heard all of the same sob stories over and over again out of drunk Phillip's lips and at this point, he was sure he had learned all of them by heart.

Phillip looked at the empty glass in his hand, softly twisting it around with his fingers while scanning the bowl of peanuts close to it.

Phillip had not meant to fall like this. He came from the most prestigious family in New York town - The Carlyles. Ever since he was a kid, Phillip's father kept telling him how his child was meant to be successful, how he's destined to become the next big thing. They wanted him to become a businessman, just like his grandfather. Phillip was forced to take a lot of extra economy courses, unlike the kids his age. While they were happily enjoying their careless childhood, Phillip was getting drowned in educational books, forced to solve different equations and learning various economical terms. Of course, Phillip was thankful for this privilege. Not a lot of kids could brag about knowing the difference between supply and demand as a 7 year old. At age 12 Phillip could write a 10 page essay about the market structure of the construction industry. He was good with numbers and he was proud of it. At least, he thought he was. 'He is so much like his grandfather' was the sentence he heard during every family gathering. And whereas most people would take such words as a huge compliment, Phillip never found any contentment in them. On the contrary, he felt like they painfully stabbed him over and over again, slowly revealing a hole in his heart which was never meant to heal again. He was not Phillip Carlyle. He was his grandfather - George Edward Carlyle. And at some point he could have sworn he did not have his own identity other than 'Geroge's grandson.'

Daniel took out a cloth and began cleaning the glasses on the bar stand, trying his best not to pay attention to the broken man who was drunkenly leaning on it, visibly drowned in his thoughts and alcohol.

Soon, the small room was filled with the chilly evening air, which got Phillip out of his overthinking session (it has become his nightly routine at this point). The heavy door of the bar creaked open and the sound of vigorous steps filled the room. Phillip did not bother to turn and look at the person who entered the bar. In fact, Phillip felt a feeling of annoyance when the comfortable silence that he was so used to got filled with a cheerful deep baritone voice that he was not familiar with.

"Daniel! Sorry for the late visit! Hopefully, I am not interrupting you. The usual, please!"

Phillip heard the steps coming closer to him and he looked out of the corner of his eye, watching the silhouette on the bar sitting down just one barstool away from him.