Dumb Luck

by Lesley Choyce

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “Damned if I know. I can’t just hang around the house all the time.” And then I realized that, pretty soon, the house, my house, would no longer be part of my life.

  “Thinking of going back to school?”

  “No, I don’t think so. School’s not for me. Not now, anyway.”

  “Mr. Carver was asking me about you.” Kayla rooted around in her schoolbag. “He wanted to give you this.”

  It was a piece of paper—school letterhead with Carver’s office phone and home phone number written on it. “He said you should call him.”

  “He just wants to tell me how stupid I am for quitting school.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “It doesn’t really matter. My life is starting to suck. Things looked good there for a bit but I guess that wasn’t going to last.”

  “Are you kidding?” she said, now acting more like a cheerleader. “You’ve got amazing things ahead of you.”

  “It doesn’t feel like that now.”

  “You need to take charge, Brandon. You’re letting other people make decisions for you.”

  I must have scrunched up my forehead because it made Kayla laugh. The look must have reflected what I was thinking. The girl was dead on. Taylor telling me what clothes to wear, what girl to go out with, and what car to buy. My dad telling me what job to take and where to live.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t really need to let other people make decisions for me all the time.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re eighteen; you have your own money. You’re smart ...”

  I laughed. “Well, you got two out of three right.”

  “I could go on.”

  “That’s okay. You made your point.” I brushed her hair with my hand. I don’t know why. I just wanted to show a sign of affection, wanted to indicate how much I appreciated the kind words. Her hair felt soft and alive.

  Kayla blushed, but even as she did, she said this: “Why don’t you make one important positive decision for yourself.”

  “Here? Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  I thought about it for a minute. At first my brain was kind of fuzzy. I had never been good at making important decisions. Maybe because I was scared I would be wrong. But maybe the time had come.

  And then suddenly the fog in my head cleared. The logic was there. The decision was obvious. “I’m going to buy my house,” I said. “I won’t have to move after all.”

  chaptertwentysix

  My father was home when I got there and my mother was a mess. He still looked angry but she looked heartbroken. I felt bad but I knew it was my time to create my own life. I’d have to make my stand.

  “I know you guys really want to move,” I said, “but it’s not right for me. I’ve decided it’s time for me to be on my own anyway.”

  “Brandon,” my Mom said. “We didn’t want this to happen.”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s going to be okay.” And then I looked at my father. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore and I don’t want to get mom more upset. But I don’t want to sell cars. I’ll go back to being a silent partner. You’ll have to hire someone else. Someone who likes to sell cars. But there’s more. I’m gonna move out for a while—rent an apartment. Something temporary. I don’t want to be around here while you two are packing up to move out.”

  “Brandon, please don’t do this,” my mom said, holding back the tears.

  “Mom, you’re going to love your new house. It’s what you always wanted. I’ll stay in touch. I’ll visit. Like you said, you’re only going to be twenty minutes away.” I said that last part a little too sarcastically.

  I turned back to my dad who seemed a bit stunned but much calmer. “And I want to buy this house,” I said. “This is where I want to live.” There. I came out and said what I had to say. And I really meant it. They could leave and go to hell for all I cared. I wanted to keep the home I had grown up in.

  He looked even more stunned.

  “Name the price,” I said. “You guys take the new furniture and buy whatever else you’d like new for the new house. I’d like to keep most of the old stuff here, just as it is. I’d really like that.”

  It was like a bomb going off. Both of them had gone mute. “It will all work out for the best,” I concluded, sounding like I knew what I was doing.

  As I walked up to my room, I knew that I’d really miss my parents. It was like I was being forced to grow up overnight. Maybe it was about time. And besides, I was starting to think about my new life.

  I e-mailed Taylor about helping me find a temporary apartment, and within ten minutes she had sent me a photo of a condo that was available by the month. Fully furnished, modern inside and out. And of course, it had a pool. “And indoor parking,” Taylor noted. “For the Beemer.” It turned out to be empty and I could move in any time I wanted. Immediately, if I liked.

  While Taylor was in school the next day, I decided to scope the place out on my own. I’d been good at following her lead in grooming me for whatever she was grooming me for. But I was feeling a need to be a bit more assertive and do some stuff on my own. I contacted the owner, took a cab, and was shown the condo. The owner remembered me from the papers and seemed thrilled that I wanted to rent from him. He didn’t seem to mind I was only eighteen. He knew I was good for the rent.

  He showed me around. Two full floors. And somehow, I had failed to notice in the listing that it had a hot tub. I’d always thought hot tubs were kind of stupid. But now that I was about to live with one, I was thinking it was kind of cool. What girl could turn down an offer to come sit in my hot tub with me?

  I signed some more paperwork and wrote another check. Having money seemed to be mostly about paperwork. Buying things. Agreeing to terms. Writing checks. Pushing a plastic card into a slot. Not really hard at all. And I was starting to like spending money almost as much as I liked winning it.

  I took another cab to the school to try to find both Kayla and Taylor to tell them about my move. I’d never yet really told anyone at school I’d officially dropped out. Would it be against the rules for me to even be there? I didn’t know. But it felt very weird walking into the building. I tried to remember where both girls would be at that time of day. But I didn’t get very far before running into Mr. Carver. It was like the man was psychic or had X-ray vision. He walked up from behind and I nearly jumped out of my skin when he said my name a bit loudly.

  “Brandon, welcome back.”

  I spun around. “Hey, Mr. Carver. Just visiting, really.”

  “We’ve missed you,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I took a job.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I had a job. I quit.”

  “Life on the outside not all it was cracked up to be?”

  “I quit because I reminded myself that I didn’t need to work.” And then, for some foolish reason, I decided to tell him about how much I’d earned on my investments in such a short time.

  “Got time for a short chat?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.” I still liked the guy, so I didn’t want to be rude to him.

  “My office is a bit stuffy. Let’s go outside.”

  So we went out and sat on a low wall like a couple of school kids. “About investments,” he began. “They go up and then sometimes they go down.”

  “I know that. My bank guy says he’s going to be sure to preserve my capital.”

  “Those clever bank guys,” he said, mocking me. “I hope you have a good one. But did I ever tell you about what I did before I started working here?”

  “No.” I saw a long-winded story coming on.

  “Well, I was a hotshot stockbroker and an investment advisor. I advised other people on what to do with their hard-earned money.”

  “Like
my bank guy?”

  “Something like that. But I also had saved my money—my hard-earned money from a couple of previous jobs—and then, because I thought I knew what I was doing and because I was a hotshot stock wizard, I worked the market. Ever hear of day trading?”

  “Not really. How do you trade days?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I watched charts. These were the heady days of the NASDAQ. Dot com companies rising and falling. Lots of speculation. You familiar with that word?”

  “Taking chances.”

  “Taking chances, for sure. With other people’s money and with my own.”

  “And I bet you were good at it.”

  “The best. And also the most kick-ass, confident professional on the street. All I had to do was throw a dart at a wall listing new Internet companies and invest in that one. I would buy when it was very low, sell after a meteoric climb. Sell at a profit and watch my savings grow. Then pick another one and do it again.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “My clients loved me. My bank loved me. In a very short time, I had my own six figures.”

  “Really? No lie? I never thought of you as, well, wealthy.”

  “I’m not. That’s the thing. My confidence was my downfall.”

  “Ouch. What happened?”

  “You get cocky and you get greedy. When a smooth million is not enough, you think you can double it, triple it. But I invested heavily in a couple of ‘sure things.’ Never trust a sure thing, Brandon.”

  “And?”

  “The bubble burst. The stock market bubble burst.”

  “How much did you lose?”

  “Everything and then some. And I took a lot of my clients down with me. They lost houses—some lost marriages. I myself lost my job and I had to declare bankruptcy. One day I’m eating at the fanciest and most expensive restaurants around, and the next day I’m begging for change for a hamburger at Mickey D’s. I’ve since become a vegetarian, but that’s another story.”

  “So you decided to give up being a hotshot stock guy and day trader and sit behind a desk and deal with juvenile delinquents like me?”

  “Yep. That’s the short version. Although I wouldn’t call you a JD exactly. But I share my cautionary tale just to remind you that your money may not always be there. Money—like women—like men—can be fickle. It is not reliable, no matter what smart-ass bankers say. It’s comfortable, yes, but it is not your friend. So now, tell me, what are your plans for the future?”

  “I bought a car. I’m getting a learner’s permit. And I’m moving into a condo with a hot tub.”

  He lifted a brow. “You call that a plan?”

  “Short-term plan.”

  “Very short. What else?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “But you’re not coming back to school, are you?”

  “No,” I said. “School just didn’t work out.”

  Mr. Carver stood up and let out an audible sigh. “Final word of advice for today. Working with people—helping people in any way you can—is much more rewarding than just working for money or spending money or living a life of leisure. Hot tubs aren’t all that exciting after a while, believe me.”

  “I think I know that, Mr. Carver. Thanks for sharing your story.”

  “Thanks for listening. Seems like we get along better now that I’m not your vice principal. Maybe you’ll stay in touch.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, and I watched as he walked back into the school.

  chaptertwentyseven

  I passed the written driver’s test with flying colors. It made me feel that I wasn’t as stupid as I thought I was. The trick was simple. I wanted to pass so I studied. I studied hard, despite all the other upheaval and distractions in my life. I wanted it that bad. Everything in my life had changed. I had changed. I would own my own house and I’d have my own car. So I worked at it. I studied. Maybe if I had applied those skills to school, I would have done better all along and never been left back.

  When I came home and told my mom, she hugged me. “I guess you really are growing up now, aren’t you?”

  It seemed like a silly thing to say but I knew what she meant.

  “Dad still mad about the car I bought?”

  “A little. Are you still angry at us for wanting to move?”

  “A little. But I think it’s my time to be on my own. I’ll stay in the apartment until you’re all packed and gone and then move back here.”

  “Why don’t you stay here with us until the move?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I think that part would make me sad and really drive me crazy.”

  “But you don’t hate us?”

  “No way. I just wasn’t ready for all the changes that got started because of the lottery. Now I think it’s all for the good.”

  “But what are you going to do ...?” The question trailed off.

  “What am I going to do with my life? Is that what you’re asking?”

  “I guess that’s what I meant.”

  “I’m going to live my life one day at a time,” I said, sounding like I knew what I was talking about.

  After dinner that night, my father and I discussed the technical details of me buying the house. The price. The process. What they would take and what would be left behind. What they wanted and what I wanted. It was all very civil and, for once, there was no bullshit. It wasn’t like a father and a son, though. It was like two grown men, with mutual respect, hammering out the details of a rather complex business deal.

  It was also the first day that I was officially renting my new apartment. I hadn’t moved much of anything there but it was fully furnished, so what the heck. I told my parents I’d be around home off and on but that tonight would be my first night truly on my own. It felt totally awesome but maybe a little scary, too.

  I thought about calling Taylor to give me a ride. Instead, I took a cab. On the way, we stopped at the liquor store and I bought some beer and a bottle of wine.

  I arrived at my new apartment feeling a bit like a king. Everything seemed so new. I opened a beer, took a good long drink, and turned on the stereo. The heavy beat of the music blasted out sweetly from the speakers as I walked out on the balcony and looked at the manicured lawn beneath. The first night of the rest of my life. I had arrived.

  And yes, I decided to try out the hot tub.

  It was hot. And it was more like a small swimming pool than a tub. And I laughed a little when I turned on the jets and the water swirled and bubbled. But after soaking for about ten minutes, I was thinking about changing my plan of spending the night alone, just me getting to know my new apartment.

  My first thought was to call Chelsea. She had been the first girl who had asked me to spend the night with her. Maybe she’d come stay the night with me. I sipped some more beer. Maybe this was finally my time.

  But part of me was not ready for that. I liked Chelsea and she was so damned hot, but we were worlds apart. I expected if I called Taylor, she’d already be out doing something. Taylor wasn’t one to be sitting home in the evening, watching television. If she was out, she might drop what she was doing and head on over.

  But that didn’t feel right either. There was really only one person I truly felt like hanging out with on a night like this.

  So I phoned Kayla. “Whatcha doing?” I asked.

  “Homework.”

  “Care to change your plans for the evening? Guess where I am?” I splashed some water around in the tub and flipped on the jets for just a second.

  “You’re in the condo?”

  “Yep. Want to come hang out?”

  There was a long pause and I wondered what that was all about. But then Kayla broke the silence and said, “Sure. I guess the homework can wait.”

  A half hour later, she was buzzing me from downstairs and I
pushed the button to unlock the door and let her in the building. When she arrived at the door, I opened it and bowed like a character in an old play. “Greetings,” I said.

  I offered her a beer and she giggled like a little kid. I thought she was going to say no, but instead she accepted it. That beer was followed by a second and pretty soon we were reminiscing about stuff we’d done as kids. But before long, she turned rather serious and silent so I had to ask her what was on her mind.

  “I’ve been skipping school a lot lately,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you’re not there. I feel more lost than ever. I feel anxious all the time. It’s like kids are looking at me. Judging me. Talking about me behind my back. So I’m faking being sick. My grades are slipping.”

  “Kayla, this is not like you.”

  “My doctor prescribed some anti-anxiety drug but I don’t think it’s working. I don’t know if I’m gonna make it through the school year. Not without you there.”

  I looked at her and tried to figure out if this was some trick to get me to return to school or if she really meant it. “Kayla, it’s your last year of high school. You can’t just drop out.”

  “But I’m a mess. I have no friends. I’m scared all the time.”

  “You have me,” I said and I reached over and gave her a hug.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  And then I smiled. “I have an idea,” I said.

  “What?”

  “We’ll give you a new look. A makeover.”

  “Are you kidding? No way.”

  “Yes. Way. Tomorrow. But first, I want you to stay over to keep me company tonight.”

  “You want me to stay over?”

  “Yes. And then we do the makeover tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is a school day,” she reminded me.

  “Then after school.”

  “But I’m just me. There’s nothing you can do to improve me.”

  “You’re great the way you are. But, with a little work and a lot of money, we can make you feel good about yourself and kids at school will look at you entirely differently.” I guess I figured if Taylor could give me a makeover that transformed my personal image, then I could do the same for Kayla.