by M. Alan Marr
A pair of ducks in the middle of Dev’s pristine Alabama lake startle and take flight. Deep below the water’s surface, inside the dark control room of the hidden ship, two screens at the aft workstation activate. The display showing US Department of State and US Passport Authority blanks, then populates with a new yellow graphic at its center: Thrillions! Lottery System. The program initiates, sending the Thrillions! graphic to the top, and a series of data strings begin branching down the screen. The central lottery computer, and various lottery subsystems appear below the Thrillions! graphic with branches forming and connecting to every single lottery ticket machine in the country. Multiple layers of two-digit numbers from 00 to 99 begin scrolling on the lower screen both vertically and horizontally. In every dynamic layer, the computer begins highlighting each 02, 31, 18, 01, 15, 06, and 29 with lines connecting them to each other. Some lines make double connections, some connect triples, and so on. The computer is rapidly trying to isolate the numerical sequence Dev entered into the system. Layer after layer of numbers stream across the display. At the bottom of the screen, seven blank boxes appear, representing the seven supercomputers responsible for generating the winning numbers. As the program continues, each of the seven boxes slowly populate themselves with Chaz’s lottery numbers. Each number is connected and branched to other numbers in the various layers. As the last box fills with the final number, all seven boxes blink three times then turn solid. The dynamic number layers freeze in place along with the vine-like lines of connectivity within the seven layers. Two new lines generate out of each end of the seven boxes and traverse up the margins and intersect with the main Thrillions! Lottery System icon, turning the graphic from yellow to blue.
Dev hears the front door and presses the side button on the iPhone, closing the screen. “That was fast,” Dev says, putting down his phone.
“I ran into a neighbor down the hall. She was kind enough to contribute to our rising cholesterol levels.”
“Ah, nothing like a good friend.”
“Well, I’m senior to her at the airline. I think she’s trying to advance through attrition.”
“Tough world we live in.”
“Right. Let’s eat.”
Chaz makes them each two fried eggs and toast. The breakfast is simple but delicious.
“You never talk about your family,” Chaz says to Dev as they eat.
Dev finishes his bite of eggs and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Well, my parents had one child, me.”
“What do they do?”
“My parents are both scientists.”
“Scientists?” Chaz says. “They didn’t go into the family business?”
“Family business?”
“The Family Trust had to come from somewhere—scientists usually aren’t wealthy types.”
“Well, it was my grandfather who established the Swiss account.”
Chaz shakes his head. “Of course, the Swiss account. So what did he do?”
“Grandfather? He . . . sort of struck gold.”
“If your grandfather did that and had the forethought to put it in a Swiss account, that suggests it was a lot of gold.”
Dev smiles. “Lots and lots.” Then he adds, for good measure, “Lots.”
“Aye ye ye.” Chaz’s head swims with that knowledge. “What kind of science for your parents?”
“My mother is a bathymetric hydrologist; she studies hydraulic patterns in aquatic systems.”
“Wow. And your dad?”
“My father used to work in ascension dynamics.”
“Ascension dynamics? What’s that?”
“Basically . . . space propulsion. Specifically, liftoff and early stage acceleration.”
“That explains your interest in that planet program. Space propulsion, wow. What’s he think of Star Trek and warp drives?”
“I don’t think he’s ever seen Star Trek. But he would be very interested in warp drives.”
“Does he think those kinds of speeds are possible?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about Einstein’s theory and all that?”
“I think he’d say Einstein’s theory is a beginning, not an end. He’d say physical limitations are just that, limitations, not absolutes. He’d say, the horizon is broader than you think.”
“He sounds like a smart man.”
“That he is,” Dev says. “Both he and my mother put me to shame, intellectually.”
Chaz’s raises his eyebrows. “That’s quite an endorsement. Are they still alive?”
“They are,” Dev says. “My father is retired. He follows my mother around in the water now. I don’t see them much because they travel a lot.”
“I’d like to meet them.”
“I’d like for them to meet you as well.”
“Then let’s make some time to go visit.”
Dev raises his eyebrows. “That . . . would be more difficult than you realize. As I said, they travel quite extensively.”
“You have a private jet,” Chaz reminds him.
“Yes. But the places my parents travel to are not accessible by BBJ.” Dev sees by Chaz’s expression he is about to object and continues, “You know, you never talk about your family, either.”
Chaz takes a deep breath. “My real dad died in a plane crash when I was little. Air Force. My mother remarried several years later and had a marginally good life given the circumstances. She and my stepdad were married for almost twenty-five years and then were in a bad car accident in Arizona. A drunk driver ran into them head on. Nobody survived.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“That’s okay. It was a while ago.”
“What were they like?”
Chaz shakes his head. “We disagreed on everything, politically and socially. And don’t even get me started on religion.”
“Really? How did that division come about?”
“My real dad was from Holland. Smart, full of life. All the pictures I have, my mom and dad are smiling and happy. After he died, my mother met a man who suddenly found religion, and that pretty much dominated their lives at that point. I didn’t realize it until years later, but I never saw a happy picture of my mom with my stepdad. Anyway, once I left for the Naval Academy our lives pretty much fully diverged at that point.” Chaz shakes his head. “They got older and angrier each passing day to the point of leading frightened, meaningless lives.” Chaz shakes his head. “They missed out on so much of my life. And now they’re dead, and I barely think about them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Still, they were my folks, and I loved them. More than they knew. Far more than they deserved.” Chaz looks at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit, look at the time. I need to get going!”
“Go ahead,” Dev says. “I’ll clean up.”
“You’re going to clean up? Or are you going to hire a cleaning crew to come in while I’m gone?”
“Very funny,” Dev says. “Go fly.”
The pace quickens as Chaz changes into his uniform and rushes to the door. He stops for a second. “Before I met you, I was always on time. Better than that, I was always early. Now I’m always rushing. You make me crazy.”
“Crazy suits you.”
Chaz smiles and then makes a total crazy face. “See you in forty-eight hours.”
“Ciao.”
“Oh, here.” Chaz takes a spare key from a drawer and tosses it to Dev. “Have a key.”
Forty-eight hours later, Chaz walks into the Midtown Starbucks, still in uniform, and a little draggy from the his flight from Portugal.
“Chaz,” Dev calls out, holding up a venti blonde roast.
“You read my mind,” Chaz says, diverting to the chairs. He sits and takes a couple of sips. “That’s good. The flight back took forever.”
“I know, I tracked your flight. 108 knots of headwind.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. What’s new with you?”
Dev smiles. “I got the deed to the lake.”
>
“That’s great! I’m happy for you,” Chaz says as he slumps down into the big leather chair and lets out a big sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“I . . . sort of accidentally put my next three trips up for giveaway, and well, they got-got.”
“They got-got?” Dev says, quoting Chaz’s particular grammatical choice. “How did you accidentally do that?”
“Well, to be honest, I haven’t done a lot in terms of scheduling manipulation. I never really had a reason to. During my layover, I was trying to trade my trips to group some days off so we could do something, but instead of putting my trips up for trading, I accidentally put them up for giveaway. Anyway, by the time I landed, all those trips had been picked up by other pilots. So now I’ve got a giant void in my schedule for nearly four weeks.” Chaz thinks about his dilemma. “Damn, that means my paycheck is going to be zero.”
“I’ll cover your losses.”
“No way, José,” Chaz says. “I won’t allow you to do that.”
“Fine,” Dev says, throwing up his hands in surrender.
“I’ll manage without charity from the International Bank of Dev.”
Dev thinks about this, pauses, then looks at Chaz. “If you’re off for four weeks, that leaves plenty of time to go on a little trip somewhere.”
“Do your worst.” Chaz shakes his head. “Let me go get showered and unpack my gear and we’ll figure out a game plan.”
“Perfect,” Dev says, packing up his laptop. “I’ll walk back with you.”
They depart Starbucks and walk down the block and enter their respective buildings.
Chapter 13
Lucky Stars
Chaz is standing in his kitchen wearing only a towel after taking a hot shower. He is talking to Dev on the phone. “Oh, that shower felt good.” He opens the refrigerator and looks around at the contents. “My captain was actually a classmate of mine at the Naval Academy. He got out about six years before I did,” he says, while pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. Upon closing the door, he sees the lottery ticket and adds, “Oh, I need to check that lottery ticket.” He listens to Dev and then replies, “The drawing was last night.”
Chaz grabs the ticket and sits down at his desk and pulls up the lottery page on his laptop as he talks to Dev. “Let’s see, current winning numbers . . . Hey, I got the first number—woohoo. I’m one for one.” Chaz’s conversation with Dev trails off as each number on the screen matches the numbers on his ticket. Chaz’s facial expression melts away to nothing, prompting Dev to ask if he was still there.
“Chaz?”
“Oh my God. Dev, oh my God. I got all the numbers.” He starts breathing hard. “Dev—I think I just won the lottery.”
“I’ll be right over.” Click.
Less than three minutes later, Dev urgently knocks on the door. Chaz opens it and stands there in his towel, almost in shock, trembling. He urgently hands the ticket to Dev. “Check this.”
“Take a deep breath,” Dev advises as he takes the ticket over to Chaz’s computer.
“I-I—Check the date. Check how many winners. Check everything.”
Dev calmly sits at Chaz’s desk and scrutinizes the ticket and the numbers on the screen. The date on the ticket matches the drawing date. The numbers do indeed match (as Dev knew they would). The screen also indicates there was a single winner.
“Chaz?”
“Yes?”
“You have the winning lottery ticket.” Dev adds, “The only winning ticket.”
“I have—you mean—oh my God. Oh my God!”
They jump up and down like crazy, laughing and hollering. Chaz’s towel falls off, and he’s jumping around the open front door with everything hanging out. Fortunately, at this hour, most of his neighbors are still at work, so hopefully no one heard or saw them carrying on.
“Looks like you can hire your own jet now!” Dev laughs.
Chaz looks down and sees that he’s quite naked. First he closes the door, then he picks up his towel. “Dev, what do we do?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
“What? You’re the rich guy!” Chaz nervously paces the floor.
“Yeah, but I didn’t win the lottery. I don’t know how this works.”
Chaz stops short and looks at Dev. “I need a lawyer.”
Dev raises his eyebrows. “My lawyers have done very well for me.”
“Can we talk to them?” Chaz is aflutter with nervous energy. “We can’t let this get out.”
“Why is that?”
“Lotteries have a tendency to ruin people’s lives.”
This stops Dev dead in his tracks. “What do you mean?”—almost as in What have I done?
Chaz explains. “When people without a lot of money suddenly have millions of dollars at their disposal, their lives tend to spiral completely out of control.”
Dev brushes it off. “Well, then, lucky for you, you have me.”
“Oh, because you’re an expert in self-control.”
Dev finds that funny. “Come on, let’s go see the lawyers.”
“We’re just going to go?” Chaz says. “Don’t we have to make an appointment?”
“With the retainer I paid them?” Dev adds, “You might want to put on some clothes. And dress nice. Lawyers seem to work harder when their clients are dressed better than they are.”
“Okay. Are you going to wait?”
“I’m going to wait for you to put on a suit and tie, and then we’re going to go to my place so I can change. Then we are going to, calmly, go see the lawyers.”
While Chaz is getting dressed, Dev contacts the law firm and basically informs the receptionist he will be there in thirty minutes for an urgent consultation with one of the partners. Dev, although he said it jokingly to Chaz, wasn’t kidding about the seven-digit retainer he paid out to the law firm. An immediate audience with a partner is a given. Chaz dresses quickly, putting on a suit and tie, then follows Dev across the street. Up in the penthouse, Chaz paces around the living room while Dev changes clothes. Minutes later, both are back on foot to the law firm only a few blocks away. Too quick, as it happens, because Chaz is sweating profusely. Dev forces him to slow down. Chaz reels in his gait and uses the time to get his breathing under control. Upon entering the firm, they are immediately shown into the large conference room on the second floor. Not much is said, but Chaz’s head is swimming. A few moments later the door opens.
“Mr. Caelestis,” Abraham Goldberg greets warmly. “How nice to see you again, sir. Neil Bloom hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep of late managing your international affairs.”
“And his efforts are much appreciated,” Dev says, agreeably. “Abraham Goldberg, may I present Chaz Ronaldi. Chaz is a 767 pilot for Triad Airlines.”
“Mr. Ronaldi . . . or is it Captain Ronaldi?”
“Chaz is fine.”
“Chaz it is,” the lawyer says, extending his hand. “Only if you will call me Abe.”
“I prefer first names,” Chaz replies, shaking Abe’s hand.
Abe motions to the table. “Please, Gentlemen, sit down. How can I help you today?”
Dev casually takes the lead. “Chaz ran into some rather good fortune this afternoon.”
“Oh?” Abe says.
Chaz produces the lottery ticket and carefully slides it across the table to the attorney.
Abe glances at the ticket and then at both men. “Is that—”
“The sole winning ticket of last night’s lottery,” Chaz confirms and says the next part slowly, for effect. “Four hundred million dollars.”
Abe purses his lips and makes a muted whistle.
Dev chimes in. “I recommended your firm to Chaz. Can you help?”
“Absolutely!” Abe all but shouts, and then tempers his excitement. “Absolutely, we can most definitely help.” He begins writing on his legal pad and gets down to business. “Well, Gentlemen, although this is the first winning lottery ticket I have personally handled, there are e
stablished protocols law firms use to preserve the privacy of their clients, as well as placing the funds in the appropriate bank accounts and so forth.” Abe looks at Chaz. “Are you married, sir?”
“No.”
Abe nods. “Any family or relatives?”
“No, none left.”
“All right. I’d like to strongly recommend placing your winnings in a Trust.”
“A Trust? Why? I’m single.”
“You’re single today. That may not be true tomorrow. And I don’t mean for this next part to sound indelicate, but the law is unsentimental. A Trust will offer protections to your assets should you ever get into any sort of legal entanglement with an eventual spouse or partner, or even someone you’re dating. Think of it as a corporation of one. Again, I don’t mean to sound indelicate.”
The meeting goes on and on as Chaz’s details are taken down and a legal framework is set up for handling the new account. Abe, in fact, tells his assistant to reschedule his next few appointments in order to focus on Chaz. “I assume you would want a single cash payout, rather than an annuity?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“What does that mean?” says Dev.
Abe turns to Dev. “Chaz has the option of metered payments over his lifetime for the full four hundred million, or he can opt for a one-time payout for slightly less. The drawback with the annuity is that if Chaz should die, the remainder of the winnings dies along with him and is transferred back to the lottery.”
“Yeah, no,” Chaz says. “One-time payout.”
“That would be my advice,” Abe says, and then continues. “There is typically a mandatory waiting period of ten days for full financial disbursement of lottery winnings. You’ll get a couple hundred thousand for pocket money when the ticket is verified, but the bulk of the payout will take ten days.”
Chaz comments, “Gonna be a long ten days.”
“My opinion?” the lawyer says. “Get out of town. Take a vacation. I say that, because the lottery commission will automatically disclose where the winning ticket was purchased, which usually means a lot of media coverage. Also the outlet that sold your ticket reaps a financial reward as well. Did you buy it here in Atlanta?”