The cab stopped in front of the boardwalk entrance. What was once a thriving strip for tourists, was now a wasteland. I paid the driver four dollars and his face beamed. As he drove off, I wandered around the strip. The shops were bare and boarded up. But the only thing I could focus on was the hotels.

The East Egg and West Egg Hotels. It wasn't a decade ago that people were lured to these beacons of pleasure and debauchery. An oasis among the Prohibition desert. I walked towards the East Egg and tried to open the door. It was locked. And looking through the glass door, there seemed to have been tenants there. Circles of mattresses covered the lobby, surrounding small fire pits; most of the bar stools and shelves were already kindling. I looked around outside, to find a rock or brick. Smash! Smash! "Hey!" I heard from behind me. I turned around after throwing a brick at the window. He was wearing a ragged shirt and old pants. "You've spent seven years on the inside and you're already trying to start trouble?"

I walked over to him as he gave me a hug. "How have you been, Henry?" I asked with a chuckle.

We stepped back and he replied, "I'm broke and living in a tent city, when I used to live in Long Island. But it could be worst."

"How?"

Henry pointed up to one of East Egg's upper floors. "I could've been a broker on Wall Street." I snickered and went back to trying to get in. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Trying to get in and see what I can get from here." Before I could make another throw, he grabbed my arm.

"There's another way we can get in, Benny boy." He lead me around to the back; there was a door unlocked and opened it. I let Henry take the lead. It was just as run down as it looked on the inside. We went into my office and it was like a tornado ran through.

"How long did this place last?" I tried to see if I could find some money.

"Three months." He left the office. Thank God I can get a couple bucks from the lining hidden in some of the cash boxes. After snatching the money, I took one of the ledgers on the desk. I met up with Henry over at the bar. There, I leaned on the bar and looked at some of the mattresses.

"So, this place is now another tent city?"

He turned back to me. "Yeah. We turned it into one a few days after the Crash kicked in." Henry grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He led me outside and we sat behind one of the shops.

I poured each of us a glass and we sat on a couple crates. "So, where's the rest of the gang?"

"Lee tried to hitchhike up north, and Tina left for California with Elise."

"I see. What about Joel?"

Henry took a sip before telling me, "He died five months ago. Syphilis."

We were quiet for a little bit, until I started browsing the ledger. Many of these names I remembered when we had parties for Wall Street. "Hey, how many of these guys checked out of here?"

"Not even two minutes after getting their keys." As we kept drinking, I thought back to the towers I owned. People looked at them like holy temples, and the booze was our ambrosia. And now, ransacked. After Henry finished his drink, he slid his glass to me. "I gotta get back."

"Back where?"

"The small tent city I've been with." I handed him a couple dollars and he raised his hand to it. "You keep it. You need it more than me. But what about you? Where are you gonna go?"

"I might stay here."

"Okay. Try not to let the cops see you in there too much." I nodded and he walked away. I took another sip and looked through the broker's names.

I knew some of these guys; they were great guests. We made them happy and they made us rich. But now, they're probably up there dead with their money; while I'm alive and have little to nothing. After finishing my glass, I picked up the bottle and looked out to the sea. I took a swig from the bottle and chucked it into the sea. The fish could probably use the drink more.