HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout (11 page)

Lori stopped. She looked at Larry as a
sergeant would a private who had come back to base with a wild
tale. “The Governor told you?”

“Lawrence was with me,” he said. “Tell
her.”

Lori looked at me in the way that made clear
she wanted the complete truth.

“God’s honest truth,” I said. “Just like he
says. We sat with the Governor and his wife... long story... and
when Larry whipped out his ticket for tonight, the thing was the
big winner.”

“The Governor gave me a pen,” said Larry,
who reached into his shirt pocket and produced a plastic, Southwest
Airlines pen.

“You never have a pen,” said Lori. “Must be
true.... You’re still interrupting, but, why expect good timing
now?”

“Dat’s it?” said December. “We’re not
kicking dem out? Dey didn’t even bring a doggie bag.”

Lori said nothing.

“Fuck!” said December. “Boys, we’re not
done. Go find something to do.”

Lori opened the door. “Can you wait
outside?”

“Like in the hallway?” asked Larry.

“The hall outside my room?” I blurted.
“Outside my own....”

“Yeh,” said Lori, pushing Larry out by the
shoulder and guiding me behind him without touching. I heard the
door close and latch behind me, and shortly thereafter came
moaning.

“Um, so, yeh, I need your help, Lawrence,”
said Larry, over increasingly vocal sounds coming from inside the
room. “I can’t handle money, but I want to decide, you know?”

Rhythmic word repetition was added to the
moaning, from inside the room.

“You need a team, Larry,” I said. “I’m just
one person. You’ve got decisions to make on investments, cashflow,
tax issues, planned giving... all that stuff.”

The moaning didn’t sound like Lori, who, as
I thought of it, really didn’t moan that much during our
marriage.

“That’s what I mean, Lawrence,” said Larry.
“I have to be okay with who is guiding me through all this stuff,
and that’s you. I’ll pay you, like a job. Tell me what you make and
I’ll pay more, though you’ll have to help with all that pension and
benefits stuff. You figure out that and tell me, cuz I wouldn’t
want you to not have those.”

“Stop, Larry,” I said. “You’re talking like
you are going to hire me, and I cannot think of a person I could
never imagine working for more than you.”

Larry looked confused.

“I mean, glad you won the lottery, that’s
great,” I said.

“Lawrence,” said Larry, with an air of
self-awareness, “you know this won’t last. It’ll probably kill me,
unless I have help. Who else can I trust? You’re the only person
who can save me. I’ll pay you way more than you’re making, but,
please, I need your help.”

“I can’t,” I said. “The bank is hard, Larry,
but I could never work for you.” I tried to pull up something to
seal the no-deal. “It’d kill our friendship for good.”

The moaning through the door sounded like
both were wrapping up in a big way.

“Yep,” I said. “It’d be over for good.”

“Do it!” came a sharp voice from inside the
room. “Get me off, Blondie!”

“C’mon, Lawrence,” said Larry, “Don’t kid
yourself. We haven’t been all that tight since high school.... Just
thought you’d welcome a chance to ditch the bank.”

.

I sat with Larry at the table in the room,
as my ex-wife and the Spanish or Italian girl lay sleeping on the
king-sized bed, “Where’d you meet up with her?”

“Duh, Lawrence, in high school.”

“Not Lori,” I said. “The black-haired
one.”

“We’re friends on the internet,” said Larry.
“She has her own website.”

“I’ll bet she does,” I said.

“She’s a nice girl,” said Larry.

“She must be,” I said. “My ex-wife obviously
likes her.”

“So, I’ll want to give away most of it,”
said Larry. “I just need your help to set something up for me, for
my grandmother and for Lori, okay?”

“Does she know about any of this?” I asked,
looking up to Lori, who lay on her belly, stretching under the
sheets.

“No, just that I was gonna ask you for
help.”

“Okay, I’ll help.” I looked over to the two
women in bed. “How long have they been...
you know
?” I
asked.

“What?”

“... How long have they been...
you
know
....”

“What?” asked Larry. “Sleeping? Should we
wake them up? Guess if we are gonna figure out who sleeps where,
yeh, huh?” Larry stood, and shambled towards the bed. “Hey,
girls....”

“No,” I said, loudly, startling Lori, who
moved her head and tensed her arms, pushing herself up slightly,
before slipping back down. December rolled, found Lori, and spooned
her in her sleep. Lori wrapped her own arm across December’s,
pulling it deep into her chest. December’s hand rested on Lori’s
flat, tight stomach.

.

“Coffee?” asked Lori, holding out a white
mug to Larry, who sat, in one of the rolling kitchen chairs, his
head rested against the wall. He stood and held the blonde coffee,
just slightly sweet, as Lori had been making Larry’s coffee since
the mornings he would drive her to swim practice in high
school.

Lawrence was slumped forward on the table
and snoring.

“Where’s December?” asked Larry.

“At the coffeeshop, using the wifi,” said
Lori.

“We should be quiet, huh?” said Larry,
setting his cup down loudly on the table, next to Lawrence. Larry
reached into the complimentary basket of fruit and pulled out an
apple, which he crunched into.

“Oh, he’ll be out for awhile,” said Lori.
“That’s his, ‘just-getting-started’ snore.” Lori stood behind the
chair. “Let’s move him to the bed.” She reached under the arms and
clasped her hands at his chest while Larry grabbed the feet.

“You want to get something at the
coffeeshop?” asked Larry.

“How about just something in the room,” said
Lori.

“You don’t wanna hangout with December?”

“She’s a little demanding.”

Lori turned on the television, switched to
Nickelodeon, and watched an episode of SpongeBob. She instructed
Larry to order whatever; she was gonna take a shower.

As Larry made his way through the room
service menu, December entered. “Oh? You ordering food, hunny? Put
me in there. Where’s Lori?” When Larry pointed toward the bathroom,
December grabbed the second robe and headed into the bathroom,
locking the door behind her.

Larry ordered for four people, speaking
loudly, over the sounds coming from the shower.

.

December poured herself coffee, orange
juice, and tomato juice, pulled a slice of toast from the basket of
bread, and lifted the silver dome from her plate, revealing eggs,
potatoes, fruit and steamed spinach. “Yeh baby,” she said. “Dat’s
what I’m talking about.”

“Didn’t you have anything at the
coffeeshop?” asked Lori, pouring nuts and raisins into her
granola.

“I was busy,” said December, “had to do a
Twitter check-in, and pardon me but I am
done
with FaceBook.
Every page I start gets flagged.
Done.
Then email. It’s a
lot.” She ate toast. “Only had coffee.”

“So you have... a website?” I said.

“And you have a bank, right?”

“Well, I work at one,” I said.

“I work at one too, not a bank, a site.”

“Do you keep your clothes on?”

“Mister,” said December. “Take a good look.
Why would I have a website and leave my clothes on. Are you slow or
something?”

Lori smiled.

“What about your future?”

“You
must
be slow,” said December.
“In my future, they’re always gonna say, December Carrera, Miss
December, oh dere goes Miss December… and dat’s right now, and
tomorrow and five years from now and fifty years from now. So why
would I worry what anyone’s gonna say? God gave me gifts and I am
gonna cash in on them, so long as the milkshakes keep the boys
coming round.”

“What if you get married?”

December turned to Lori, “I can see why you
dumped this guy.” She turned to me. “My husband’s gonna be the
luckiest dude around. You know why? He gets me.” She looked to
Lori. “Unless dey make it legal so I can marry some super hot
chick.”

“I want to go cash this thing in,” said
Larry, pushing back from the table. Audible protests from all three
at the table quieted Larry, who scooted his chair back to the table
and picked at his food.

.

“How do we get in this place?” I asked, as
Larry and I walked across grass, to a space between two bushes.
Larry felt around, and pulled open an otherwise-invisible entryway
to the glass building shaped like a ship. He led me into a room
with more glass and mirrors, and a wide marble counter. A woman
with very pale skin and long red hair greeted us.

“Hello,” she said. “Oh, you were here
yesterday.”

“I have another ticket,” said Larry,
casually. “The machine’s fine.”

The women slid back part of the counter,
revealing the scanner to check the bar code on a lottery ticket.
Larry placed the ticket under the scanner, and
WINNER
appeared in red, digital letters at top. “Oh,
my,” said the women. “You are, indeed, a winner.”

The sound of a dot-matrix printer could he
heard between the breathing of three people. Larry looked at the
winning line and the ticket.

“Oh, and you have already written your name
and other information on the back,” she said. “Very good.” She
reached under the countertop and produced a one-page form with
large boxes. “This form is for all winning tickets in excess of
$599 of winnings, which clearly applies to you.”

“I have a pen,” said Larry. “The Governor
gave me his, when he told me I had won.” Larry held up the
Southwest Airlines pen.

“Right,” said the woman.

“Should I just sit? Or do I have to go
somewhere?” asked Larry.

“For what, sir?”

“To get my big check and the money.”

“A fitting question,” she said, clearly
having to answer it many times before, “but this is an operation of
the State of California.”

“I know,” said Larry. “That’s what the
Governor said.”

“Right,” she said. “Payment is made by a
check issued by the Office of the State Controller, after we verify
the winning ticket, determine the exact payout and submit the
needed advice to the Controller for the issuance of a check.” She
pointed to the form. “Please complete this form and I can notarize
it for you. If you would like a copy for your records, I can
produce a photocopy for thirty-two cents.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t follow that.”

“You can submit the ticket and claim form
here. I can take that now,” said the woman with red hair. “But you
should keep a copy of both sides of your winning ticket and of this
form, as proof of your having submitted a claim.” The women reached
under the counter and pulled out a thin book with a photo on the
cover of two people, clearly ecstatic, leaping for joy in the air.
“The ‘Winners’ Handbook’ will give you answers to many of the
questions you may have.”

Larry began filling out the form. He
carefully spelled out his name, gave his address and searched for
numbers on the ticket, asking the woman several times what
information to place where. When it came to prize claimed, Larry
wrote in the figure at the top of the money pyramid on the winning
line printout: $285,850,920.

“Let’s get this notarized for you, Larry,
and you’re ready to go,” said the woman.

.

“Tak, Farmor,” said Larry, finishing his
call to his grandmother.

“She must be blown away,” I said.

“She’s happy Lori found someone nice,” Larry
said, absently, as we drove through Sacramento. “She wants to meet
December.”

“Didn’t you tell her about the money?”
asked.

“Lawrence,” said Larry, with impatience in
his voice, “it’s just money. It’s not like my grandma doesn’t have
any. What? Am I supposed to shake my bootie doing the money dance
in front of her? She wanted to talk about the movie thing. She gave
me a number for the director, who’s visiting San Francisco. Thought
we could drive over to meet him.” Larry rolled down the window.

“Larry, I know I said I would help you,
but….”

“You gotta,” said Larry, in a tone of panic.
“I’ll pay you double.”

“It’s not the money,” I said…, though…
double…. Double!

“Triple,” Larry countered.

“Oh, man,” I groaned.

“Triple and you tell me what you need for
benefits and all that stuff... social security… all that…. But I
need someone I can trust.”

“I don’t know this stuff,” I told Larry, who
seemed preoccupied. He had put his hand out the window, and was
busy aiming the thumb up so his hand glided up and then aiming it
down, so his hand went down.

.

Lori and December were in the hotel bar,
surrounded by what must have been every male in the hotel for
business travel. Had they not called us to give us their
whereabouts, we would have missed them in the circle of bodies at
the bar. Lori, in a short tee that exposed her belly, was leaning
against the bar, sipping a clear drink with a cherry. December had
a tall glass with fruit and paper umbrellas in it and a tall, windy
straw.

As we walked towards the bar, December
hooted and waved. A chorus of “gotta be kidding me” rose from
business class, as December trotted to me and Larry. One gazelle
having fled, the men at the bar turned to Lori, who put up a hand,
and carried her drink over to join December, me and Larry. “Take
care of your business?” asked Lori.

“Yep,” said Larry.

“Right on,” said Lori. “I’m happy for
you.”

“So you really won?” squealed December.

“Yeh,” said Larry, with a little laugh.

“How much, hunny?”

“$285,850,920.42”

December laughed with both excitement and
nervousness. “… And forty-two cents.”