That solid red dot on my answering machine is one of the most depressing sights I’ve ever seen. It should be blinking on and off with messages. The landlord should have called. The deal should be finalized. We should be building any day now. He was supposed to call last Friday. He was supposed to call yesterday. He hasn’t called. Nobody’s called. The lease was supposed to have been signed a week ago at the latest. I’ve still got the copy here in a manila envelope.
We had it all figured out. Joe was a carpenter. He’d take care of all the designs and construction. His Uncle Dan was a general contractor and electrician who could help us out. I was a good businessman–at least I figured I could become a good businessman. I’d figure out the financing and arrange all the deals. Leigh had a friend who knew all about electronics and sound design. She’d ask him to set us up with good acoustics and a sound system. Brian worked on the Board of Trade. He’d try to find us some contacts. Steve was a master of public relations and organizational skills. He’d take care of the books and publicity. And Patrick was ready and willing to leave his job and work full-time. We were all ready to dive in.
Joe had his tape measure and was measuring widths and lengths and heights. We’d have to install a bathroom, and we wanted an electrician to have a look at the place before we made a commitment, but we told Schmidt we wanted the place and would be ready to build whenever he had all the crap cleaned out of the joint. We set up an appointment so that Joe’s Uncle Dan, the electrician, could have a look.
“Yeah,” he said, “But I doubt anybody’s gonna bother you.”
“Aww, this place is beautiful. Beautiful,” Dave sniggered as he stepped around some shattered glass and pointed a professional flashlight toward a wall where a piece of fake wood paneling had been attached. Behind the paneling, some sort of liquid was leaking out. Schmidt was sitting on a crate, drinking a Rolling Rock and scratching his crotch.
“You better get that fixed,” somebody said.
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We drove up and down Ravenswood, a street loaded with old factory and industrial spaces. Just off the corner of Ravenswood and Irving Park we found a place with industrial spaces for rent. It was one of those cool old buildings with an elevator gate you had to close yourself. There wasn’t a real estate agent around or a landlord, so we did a little exploring.
