Urban System in America-Chapter 247 - 246: Poor Don’t Have Friends

Aren stared at the dollar bill in his hand. It looked more like a joke than a payment. But then Rex’s smile brightened even further—like a kid who had just traded a rock for a treasure map. Because to Rex, this wasn’t just a deal—it was a heist. For the price of a vending machine soda, he now legally owned what he believed was a goldmine. No, scratch that—a diamond mine. A potential blockbuster with a microscopic investment. The cost-to-profit ratio was absurd.

And then, as if to drive the point home and truly lock the deal in stone, Rex pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and with a few casual taps, transferred $20,000 straight into Aren’s account.

A moment later, Aren’s phone dinged.

He frowned, pulled it from his pocket, and blinked in confusion at the balance update. His eyes widened.

Twenty thousand.

Cold hard proof that this wasn’t some elaborate prank or empty promise.

It was a number that hit him like a freaking bus, the kind that is overloaded with passengers.

Something he couldn’t save even after working tirelessly for the past two years. For someone like him—a totally average kid from a lower-class American family—twenty thousand might as well have been a million. And that wasn’t just poetic exaggeration. He hadn’t had a safety net since the day he turned eighteen, asa typical American, he was politely but firmly shoved out of his family home. No savings. No support. Not even a college fund.

His parents hadn’t been cruel, just... tired. Tired of scraping by. Tired of another mouth to feed. They barely managed to pay the electricity bill, let alone college tuition. That was why, aside from his genuine passion for film and screenwriting, he had studied harder than anyone else he knew—nose buried in books, mind grinding through lectures, soul clinging to the dream of winning a full-ride scholarship. And somehow, he’d pulled it off. He’d made it into a film program, full scholarship in hand. It had felt like the start of something.

But after graduation, reality was colder, harsher, and far less romantic than he’d imagined.

Jobs? No one wanted to take a chance on some nobody. Even unpaid internships were fiercely competitive and saturated with well-connected kids from privileged backgrounds. Nobody was interested in his script samples or short films. Talent, he’d quickly learned, meant nothing if no one gave you a platform to show it.

Still, he hadn’t given up. he spent months—years even—desperately trying to find a foothold in the industry, knocking on every door, sending out script after script, showing up to auditions and meetings just to be ignored, ghosted, or dismissed. No one even gave him the chance to fail. Still, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He kept working odd jobs, sometimes shady ones, sometimes humiliating ones that would make others scoff.

Cleaning puke after parties, carrying cables for night shoots, washing dishes until his skin cracked in hot water—he did them all without complaint. He took whatever work he could, even the kind of stuff others turned their noses up at. He showed up early, stayed late, smiled through abuse, not because he enjoyed suffering, but because he hoped someone, someday, might remember him for being dependable, hardworking, or maybe just too stubborn to quit. He chased every thread of hope like a starving man chasing crumbs.

They didn’t.

Even then, whatever he earned barely covered rent. Sometimes, he had to choose between toothpaste or bus fare. Eating was a luxury. Most days, he survived off of whatever was left on set—: cold, tasteless, and barely edible, tasted like cardboard, but at least filled his stomach and most importantly was free. He had memorized the taste of bland rice and half-dry chicken, but he never once complained. That was the price of chasing dreams. That was what he told himself in all those lonely nights.

As for borrowing money? From whom? Poor people didn’t have friends, all they had other poor acquaintances, fellow strugglers who were barely holding it together themselves.

And family? Please. It was already a miracle they hadn’t asked him to send money home. Maybe they sensed he had nothing to give. Or maybe they’d just given up on him entirely.

Whatever the reason, he was broke, not the kind of broke that meant skipping Starbucks for a week.

The real kind of broke.

One hundred, thirty-six dollars and seventy cents.That was his entire net worth—his literal life savings.

And even from that, he impulsively bribed the waiter with a hundred bucks to land this meeting.

That was it.

That was the full extent of his wealth in the world. No fallback. No cushion. Just that and a heart full of stubborn hope.

He had memorized the number. It rang in his ears like a countdown timer, a ticking reminder that if this gamble didn’t work, he’d be sleeping on a park bench by the end of the week. His landlord had already given him the final warning. Two weeks late and no promise of payment—he’d be out. And it’s not like he could argue. The city didn’t run on dreams. It ran on rent and receipts.

So when Rex casually tossed out "twenty thousand" like it was cab fare, Aren couldn’t breathe for a second. Not from greed or excitement—though those feelings were there, tangled somewhere deep—but from sheer disbelief. That number wasn’t just life-changing. It was survival. It was hope. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

And the irony was, he didn’t even know that the deal he was about to sign, the gamble-tier clause Rex had structured so delicately, was practically designed to be a win-win for him. From Aren’s perspective, the clause about earnings exceeding ten million seemed laughably irrelevant. Ten million? That was fantasy talk. That was the kind of money real studios made—not some indie director with a camera held together by duct tape and hope.

He’d ignored it. He assumed it was just for show.

He took a deep breath, accepting the situation—the weight of reality slowly settling in.

His lips curled into a shaky smile, equal parts nerves and disbelief.

Across from him, Rex was already picturing the money he could potentially rake in from this deal. The thought alone made him grin.

Seeing his (evil) grin.

Aren suddenly shuddered.

He’d be alright... right?

...Right?

(End of Chapter)