Closing up the store should have been routine—lock the doors, count the register, leave the keys in the safe. But then you saw it. The paperwork confirming what you’d feared: Empire Records was about to be swallowed whole by Music Town. The thought of the fluorescent lights, the dress codes, the soulless corporate playlists—it made your stomach turn. So you did the only thing that made sense in the moment. You took the deposit—$9,000 in cash—and walked out the door.

The casino was supposed to be the solution. A quick win, double the money, buy Joe the store outright. But luck wasn’t on your side. Hand after hand, spin after spin, the money slipped away, faster than you could think. By sunrise, it was gone, and reality hit like a freight train. There was no saving the store, and now, there was no saving yourself from what came next.

Joe’s fury was like a storm, quiet at first, then thunderous. The moment you stepped back into the store, he barely let you speak before snapping, voice sharp enough to cut. “Sit. Right there.” He pointed to the couch in the break room, his glare burning holes through you. “You don’t move. Unless it’s to get me back my nine thousand dollars, you do not move.” His fists clenched, his jaw tight—anger, disappointment, something else lurking beneath.

After a long silence, Joe exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Look… if you needed money, you could’ve come to me.” His gaze softened just slightly, still searching for answers. “Why’d you do it? Are you in trouble?” He had no idea. No clue that it wasn’t about you at all.