A/N: Thanks to Irish Avalon for the review!

May 5, 1959

Leo:

You won’t believe my luck today! It finally turned around and all because of one man and an incredible discovery I made.

Mr. Marks sent me to do a Broadway producer’s books today. His name is Max Bialystock, and I actually saw one of his shows with Dad before I started working at the accounting firm. I think Mr. Marks was trying to scare me out of my dreams of being a producer because Max hasn’t had a hit in awhile. His last show, Funny Boy was a complete flop, but nevertheless, I found something incredibly interesting in the accounts.

Max raised 4,000 dollars more than he needed to when producing the show, and he was able to keep it. While it’s a pretty good amount of money, it won’t make him rich, but what if he raises a million dollars more than he needed and he was sure that the show would flop? Then he’d be rich!

And that’s what we’re doing. I’ve quit my job at Whitehall and Marks and we’re going to find the worst play ever written in order to make a million dollars.

I admit that at first, I backed out. When I came up with the scheme, Max grabbed the opportunity with eager hands. He begged me to help him out, telling me about everything that I could have if I just took this one little chance. Beautiful girls, champagne, lunches at Sardis, and everything else I could ever want would be waiting for me, but I was hesitant for a few reasons.

The first being that the plan could hand us a nice, cozy jail cell instead of a million dollars. It was illegal. The second being that Max didn’t come off as the ideal person to work with. I had caught him with one of his “backers” when I was in his office, and she was an old lady whom he had sex with in order to get a check. He also took my precious blue blanket away from me. No one touches my blue blanket. Dad never did, and now that I think of it, neither has Mr. Marks. He gave it back once I began to go into hysterics, but I still wasn’t sure whether or not he would do it again just to torment me.

I didn’t change my mind until later on when I was back at the office and began to think of the amazing opportunity I just turned down. I arrived back at Whitehall and Marks six minutes late, hoping that Mr. Marks wouldn’t notice. What a high hope that was. The moment I opened the door, his furious eyes spotted me walking in. After I put my coat up and took a seat, he began giving me the lecture.

“This is an accounting firm! Not a country club! You can’t come and go as you please! Remember, you’re a nobody, a PA, a public accountant, and I am a CPA, a certified public accountant. A worm like yourself could never hope to achieve!”

“Yes, Mr. Marks. Thank you for speaking to me,” I replied, staring at him in terror and waiting for something else to happen. A slap across the face, a stifling, but nothing happened. He walked away, and once he was out of sight, I slipped off into a daydream as I doodled in my accounting book instead of working.

I dreamt about the glamorous life that I had just turned down. For years I had always held the hope that I could somehow get out of this prison and get a shot at show business. I thought about my name being up in lights with beautiful girls in pearls surrounding me. Never did I want to leave that dream. It was as delicious as biting into a rich chocolate bar, and I never wanted the taste to leave.

Yet if Max and I were caught, we would go to jail.

Then it came to me; I was already in jail, and Mr. Marks was the jail guard that was keeping me locked in. I wasn’t allowed to leave my quarters without his permission, even on the weekends. It wasn’t like I could get out anyway, considering he locked me in his office when I wasn’t working. I only ate when he allowed me to, and often times I didn’t always get three meals a day, especially on weekends. He would usually leave me food for the weekend, but every so often, he would “forget.” He didn’t even pay me enough to get my own apartment, and he did this on purpose. Then on top of everything else, he treated me like dirt, and the physical abuse was getting worse every week; I’m covered in bruises right now.

So how much worse could jail get? At least there I probably wouldn’t be whacked around by the guards until I was black and blue. I would even get three meals a day and a cot to sleep on. It actually sounded better.

When I was brought back from my daydream by Mr. Marks, I told him my decision to quit my job. Maybe I was a bit too harsh, though. I told him that he was a “certified public asshole,” which really set him off. I was able to exit the office with a smile on my face, but the smile soon faded when I saw him chasing after me. He caught me by the neck and stopped me in my tracks.

“You faggot!” he screamed at me, clenching my neck with all his might and almost strangling me in the process. “I’ll teach you a lesson, you little bastard! Going off into show business! What a frigging idiot you are!”

“Let me go!” I yelled to the best of my ability, but I choked on the words as Mr. Marks dragged me back into the office and threw me onto the floor. He pressed his foot down on my back, and as much as I tried to get out from underneath it, I couldn’t.

He was going to slaughter me for this.

“Bloom! Why the hell are you going off into show business, you son of a bitch!” he screamed at me as I trembled on the ground.

“Because . . . because . . .” I stammered, but couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t offend him.

“Cornwell, grab me the cane against the wall!”

“But . . .” Cornwell protested.

“But nothing, unless you want to be fired!’

“Yes, sir.” He reached over to the wall with the coat hangers and took the cane that was leaning against it, then brought it over to Mr. Marks. As he walked away, he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” to me.

“I’ll show you what a miserable existence you have, you motherfucker!” With that, he began striking me repeatedly with the cane with all his strength. “You’ll never get out of here! You owe your life to me! If it weren’t for me, you would have frozen to death on the streets after your father died.” He then turned to the rest of the accountants who watched, stunned. Never before had he gone this far in front of them. “If anyone tells anyone else what‘s going on now, I’ll get rid of you and do the same exact thing as I’m doing to Bloom here!”

“Yes, sir,” each one replied, and then began staring in shock, not uttering a single syllable. Every few seconds, I tried to stand up to leave, but he pushed me right back down again and rubbed my face into the floor. “Please,” I pleaded, tears flowing down my cheeks like a stream. “Stop. It hurts.”

“Do you think I want it to feel good? Maybe I should starve you for a bit, too, just to give you an idea of what it would feel like if you left! A week without food? A week and a half even?” he asked, and just as he did, his foot stumbled off of me for barely a second, enough for me to make a mad dash for the door. I ran out of the building as fast as I could, constantly looking behind me, until I reached the water fountain where I had left Max.