Stroke of Luck

by Jenna Byrnes

  “Well…” Paul drummed his fingers on the desk.

  “What? Spill it!” Steven wasn’t sure his heart could stand the strain.

  A slow smile creased Paul’s face. “Congratulations. You’re the sole winner. Ninety-seven million dollars.”

  “Woo hoo!” Steven whooped and jumped around the room. Through the window in the door he saw Nancy, Paul’s secretary, glance up with a curious expression on her face, but he didn’t care. He pumped Paul’s hand enthusiastically and drew him into a quick hug. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew it. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “I know. Fantastic news, buddy.” He squeezed Steven a little tighter and for a moment longer than a typical friend-hug.

  Steven relished the embrace then backed up, smiling. “Thanks. So what now?”

  “They’re expecting you at the Commission offices sometime today. It’ll be a photo-op. They’ll have a big check for you to hold and all that jazz.” He ruffled Steven’s shaggy mane. “You might want to comb your hair.”

  “I don’t know.” Steven shrugged as if that were too much to ask. Another thought occurred to him, and he glanced at Paul. “Any chance you could come with me?”

  “Of course I will. And we need to get you an appointment with a lawyer. Have one?”

  He rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Paul smiled. “I know a guy, Barry Goodrich. He does a lot of work for the Gay Rights Society. He has an office over on Sixty-Fifth Avenue. I could call him for you.”

  Steven waggled his brows. “Anyone I should be concerned about?”

  The smile widened to a grin. “He’s a flaming queer. Wait until you get a load of his wardrobe. But, I’d trust him with my business any day.”

  “Sounds good to me. Get us an appointment as soon as you can, okay?” He watched Paul’s face to gauge his reaction, but there was none.

  “Sure. I’m going to have Nancy clear my schedule for the rest of the week. You might want to think about what you’re going to tell your boss.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Steven’s thoughts reeled with the beginnings of a list of things to do. “I guess I won’t make it in tonight. Maybe I should take the week off, too.”

  Paul blinked. “Are you serious?”

  “No, but I didn’t want to come off sounding like a pompous ass. ‘Hey, Joe, I won the lottery, so I won’t be coming back to work.’ That’s tacky.”

  “Tacky, schmacky. If you want to mix drinks, you can do it for me. I don’t think you need to go back to work at the bar. I don’t want you going back to work at the bar.”

  “No?” Steven stepped close to Paul and smiled. “‘Tacky, schmacky’? Really?”

  Paul fingered the lapel of Steven’s jacket. “Just taking my clues from you. I recall hearing ‘fancy, schmancy’ last night.”

  Excitement rose in Steven’s gut, and his cock stirred. “If you’re lucky, you might hear it again tonight.”

  Paul closed his eyes briefly then gazed at Steven with lust. “I’m feeling very lucky. Must be from our standing so close. Something’s rubbing off on me.”

  Steven grinned. “Don’t even get me started. All this talk about rubbing and getting lucky has me hard as a rock.”

  Both their heads snapped when someone knocked on the door. Steven took a step back as Nancy stuck her head in. “There’s a reporter from the Daily News on line one. Something about the Power Play Lottery?”

  Paul glanced at Steven then back at his secretary. “Get his name and number and tell him I’ll call him back when we’re ready to make a statement.”

  Her eyes widened. She tilted her head towards Steven, and Paul nodded. Nancy squealed then covered her mouth quickly. She grinned like a fool as she returned to her desk.

  “And so it begins.” Paul looked at Steven. “Are you ready for this?”

  Steven swallowed, all thoughts of lust deflated along with his erection. “I, uh, think I need to call my mom.”

  Paul burst into laughter. “Yeah, you might want to do that. Before the Daily News calls her, that is.”

  His face hot with embarrassment, Steven yanked his cell phone from his pocket and stuck his tongue out at Paul as he turned his back to make the call.

  Still laughing, Paul made a biting motion towards him.

  Steven tuned out the image as he dialled the number and listened to his mother’s soft, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom, it’s me. Boy, have I got something to tell you.”

  Chapter Three

  Steven couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d expected reporters at the lottery office and hadn’t been disappointed. At least a dozen of them milled around, asking questions which he had no answers to yet and snapping pictures. He hadn’t expected to see the same scene playing out in front of his mother’s house.

  The driveway was blocked, so he parked on the street and dodged people, cameras and microphones as he made his way to the front door.

  “Mr. DeLong! How are you going to spend the money?”

  “Are you going to quit your job?”

  “Mr. DeLong, is it true a stripper from the place you work picked the winning numbers?”

  He got past them and shook his head, holding both hands in the air.

  The crowd quieted down.

  “I don’t have any comments at this time.” He had to add one more thing in an attempt to squash a foolish rumour before it got started. “And there are no strippers at the place I work. Tony’s is a fine establishment, and Anthony Girding has been great to work for. Whether I continue working there or not, he’s been great.”

  He continued up to the house, mentally kicking himself. Two greats—don’t I sound intelligent? Paul had suggested he not make any statements and that was probably one of the reasons why. Neither of them wanted his words to get twisted around, and he really didn’t want to come off sounding like an idiot. ‘Great’ job, genius.

  Steven opened the door, slipped inside and leant against it. “Whew!”

  Norma DeLong paced back and forth in her front room. “This is a mess! Can you believe it? How long are they going to stay out there? I’ll need to get my car out Sunday morning to go to church.”

  He stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders so she’d stop pacing. A full head taller than she was, he looked directly at her salt-and-pepper coloured hair, which was messier than her usual prim style. Steven planted a kiss on her forehead. “They’ll be gone by Sunday, Mom. This’ll be big news for a day or two, then it’ll fade. And you can get your car out anytime you want it. Just open the garage door and start backing out. The idiots will either move or get the surprise of their lives. But they’re on your property.”

  “I wish they would go,” she murmured nervously, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t get to the beauty shop this afternoon.”

  “You look beautiful to me, Mom. I’ll make sure you get to the shop tomorrow, okay?”

  “But my standing appointment is on Thursday. My stylist sees other people on Friday and won’t be able to get me in.”

  Steven squeezed her shoulders gently. “Mom. This might not have sunk in yet, but you have choices, now. I’m pretty sure if your stylist has a brain at all, she’ll work you in tomorrow. If she doesn’t, we’ll buy a salon just for you, and you can go whenever the mood strikes. How does that sound?”

  Norma appeared confused. “Why would we do that?”

  “Because we can.” He let go of her and stepped back. “Ninety-seven million dollars, Mom. I won ninety-seven million dollars.”

  She screwed up her face into a scowl. “I’ve been thinking about that. Someone your age has no business with that much money. You need to figure out what to do with it. Imagine what the church could do—”

  Her words were cut off when the front door opened again, which was fine with Steven. She did not want to get started with him about the church.

  “What in the world?” Steven’s pretty, blonde-haired sister-in-law entered the foyer. “It�
��s a madhouse out there!”

  “Hey, Cheryl.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Where’s my brother?”

  “I lost him back there, somewhere, in that crowd.”

  The door opened again, and Tim came through, closing it firmly behind him. “I made the mistake of talking to one of them, and he wouldn’t let me go. Holy shit!”

  Steven rolled his eyes. “Don’t mention anything ‘holy’, please.”

  Tim grinned, his dark eyes dancing mischievously. “There you are, you son of a gun. What, you couldn’t win a big jackpot, you had to settle for ninety-seven mil?” He scooped Steven into his arms, and they hugged.

  “Finally, someone who’s happy for me.” They separated, and Steven glanced into the living room where his mother and Cheryl had migrated, talking with nervous looks on their faces. “I mean, look at them. The damned reporters will be gone soon enough. They really shouldn’t get all upset about them.”

  “I can’t speak for what’s going on inside Mom’s head—wouldn’t even want to try—but you’ll have to give Cheryl a little time with this. Everything is just too fresh. She hasn’t been happy for so long, I’m not sure she remembers how.”

  Steven put his arm around Tim’s shoulder and ruffled his closely cropped hair. “How you doing, bro? Getting along?”

  Tim shrugged. “Have to. Much as some days I want to lie down and quit, I just have to pick myself up and keep going.”

  Steven hugged him from the side as they walked into the room with the ladies. “So, I went to the Lottery Commission today. My accountant and I talked about it, and we went with the thirty year annual payout instead of a lump sum.”

  Tim’s eyes lit up. “Did you call Paul?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. He’s been very helpful.”

  “He’s a great guy! I knew you’d like him.”

  ‘Like’ is an understatement. Steven decided not to open that particular can of worms. “Anyway, Paul said they used to recommend taking the lump payout, even though it was less money. But in this economy, I’ll get a better return if I take the payments. It’s going to be something like two point five million after taxes.”

  “A year?” Tim whistled.

  Norma frowned. “Just don’t be stupid like all those other lottery winners. They blew all the money and got themselves into huge debt. One guy even killed himself.”

  Steven exchanged glances with Tim, and both of them bit back laughter. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be careful. But you all have something to think about now. I’m going to buy you whatever you want. New houses, new cars, you name it.”

  “Oh my God!” Tim hugged his brother again. “That’s incredible. I can’t believe it. Thank you so much.”

  Norma fretted nervously but didn’t speak.

  Cheryl’s face crumpled. “You can’t buy me what I want.”

  Heart breaking, Steven touched her arm. “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry. But what I can do is to make sure all your medical bills are taken care of. You won’t have to deal with any of that from now on.”

  Tim nodded. “That’s huge. You wouldn’t believe how those co-pays add up. Getting rid of those debts will be a big relief.”

  Before anyone else could speak, Cheryl erupted in a fit of rage. Red-faced, with tears flowing, she spouted, “Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn’t it have come a year ago when the money might have done some good? They’re always discovering new cures with research. Maybe, if they’d had unlimited funds, they’d have found something for Mattie!”

  She’s blaming me for the timing of my lottery win? Steven was incredulous. “Cheryl, I—”

  Tim interrupted. “Honey, that’s not fair. You could make yourself crazy with ‘what ifs’. It’s not Stevie’s fault he didn’t win the money last year. I think he’s being very generous, and we should consider taking him up on his offers.”

  “I’m not moving,” she insisted, giving her husband a cold stare. “That house is where Mattie was. I’ll never leave it.” She stomped into the kitchen.

  Steven turned to his brother. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  Tim scowled. “All it takes is a fly in the house to upset Cheryl these days. I’m grieving, too, but you’d never know it the way she treats me.” He exhaled and shook his head, visibly distraught.

  “She just needs time,” Norma told them.

  “Yeah, well, so do I.” Tim faced Steven and said quietly, “I hope our marriage can last the amount of time she needs. It’s been touch and go for a while, now.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Steven didn’t know what else to say.

  “Look. I built the house we’re living in, and I think Cheryl’s right. The memories of Mattie there are too vivid. We can’t leave. But my work truck is on its last legs. I sure could use something better. And when Cheryl goes back to work—if she goes back to work--” he rolled his eyes. “She‘d probably appreciate a nicer car.”

  Steven nodded. “Whatever you want, bro, whenever you want it. I’m supposed to have the first instalment in a few days. So get your bills together. We’ll knock off all of your debt, first thing.”

  Tim pulled him into a bear hug. “You’re a prince. I always suspected it, but couldn’t prove it until now.”

  “Shut up,” Steven joked back. “You know I always wanted to be the princess.”

  His brother laughed and released him. “I’ll go check on Cheryl. Thanks again, man.”

  Steven watched him go into the kitchen then turned to his mother. “I feel awful for them.”

  “I know. I keep saying it, but they just need time. Time is the only thing that can make this easier for them now.”

  He smiled. “So what about you, Mom?” He pulled her into a bear hug and squeezed. “Interested in a new place to live? A new car? A mink coat? It’s a multiple choice question, A, B, C or D—all of the above.”

  Norma shook her head and looked up at him. “I don’t need anything, Son. This house is where you boys grew up. I’m comfortable here and can’t imagine moving. Your father’s old car gets me around just fine. And I never go anywhere fancy enough for a fur coat.”

  Steven released her. “Mother, Dad’s been gone for five years. He drove that car for at least two or three years himself. You could really do with something new.”

  She waved a hand. “Just quit trying to buy me stuff. Do you know what I really want? Donate some of your good fortune to charity. I know my church could really use it.”

  Steven felt his chest get tight. “Mother, I have every intention of donating money, but I have to tell you, it’s going to be the charities of my choice.”

  “But my church—”

  Frustrated beyond belief, Steven saw red. “Your church won’t allow me to be a member, but they’d happily accept my donation, is that what you’re saying? Come on, Mom! Don’t you think I’d want to choose some place that was at least somewhat gay friendly?”

  Her eyes bulged and nostrils flared. “I can’t believe you just said that. So you’re telling me you’ll give me money as long as I spend it on what you want?”

  That does it. “No, Mother, of course not. The money is a gift. You can spend it however you wish. But if you choose to donate it to the church, it’ll be from you, not me.” He turned and headed for the door. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “I thought you’d stay for dinner!” she called after him.

  “Next time. Thanks.” He slammed the door behind him and elbowed his way through the paparazzi to his car.

  “Mr. DeLong, have you made any provisions for your family, yet?”

  “What about the stripper who picked the numbers?”

  Ignoring the questions this time, he hurried to his old black Dodge. He certainly wouldn’t mind a new car, something small and sporty. I’ll see if there’s enough left over after Mom funds the church.

  He smirked at the irony of the situation and squinted when he reached the Charger. There were a dozen or so scraps of paper under his wi
per blades. Steven yanked them off and got into the car before looking at them.

  Joni Smith, out of work, three kids. 555-4219.

  Robert Evans. Please call me! Emergency! 555-2110.

  Solada García. Niño enfermo. 555-3050.

  Steven blinked. His Spanish was lousy, but he thought the last one meant ‘sick child’. What the fuck? He shoved all the papers in his pocket and started the car, dodging reporters as he pulled out.

  This was what Paul meant when he said people would be crawling out of the woodwork. Everyone wanted something, and a new multi-millionaire looked like an easy mark to get it from. He sighed and pointed his car in the direction of home.

  He turned onto his street and saw them—more reporters, more cameramen and women, people of all kinds milling in the yard of his apartment complex. The crowd was so large it spilled over into the street.

  The sun had almost completely set, but Steven grabbed his sunglasses and slapped them on while he drove by. He didn’t stop, just kept going, and tried to figure out what to do. There was always a hotel. He could afford a nice one, now. Once I get my first payment, that is. Fuck!

  He had ten bucks in cash and a couple more in change. Not enough for any nice hotel he knew of. Steven inhaled and tried to decide what to do.

  Paul. He still hadn’t decided if the handsome hunk was after him or his money. He sighed, wondering how much it mattered, anyway. One more night with Paul wouldn’t hurt anything, and it would help a lot of things. Like the seething frustration this money was already causing him and the aching hard-on that developed at the mere thought of Paul.

  He’d left the accountant at his office with plans to meet up with him the following day. Maybe he’d be home by now. Will he be glad to see me? Steven thought about calling but decided to drop in unannounced.

  He felt slightly guilty approaching the building but kept going. He’d made it to the front door before he realised he’d have to buzz to be allowed entrance. So he wasn’t totally a surprise.

  Paul was waiting, door open, when the lift arrived at his floor. “Hi, there.” He smiled at Steven warmly. “I’m glad to see you. You should have called.”