by Bill Orton
“Oh, poor baby,” December purred, feeling his upper arm with one hand. “We don’t even have to drive long. We can make it back tonight, for sure.”
“No,” said Larry. “I’ve got a table booked for all of us at a really good steakhouse. I thought we could eat while we’re here.”
“Too much high eating for me,” said Lori. “And this isn’t coming from lottery winnings anymore, Larry.”
“I know,” said Larry. “I’ll have to talk to my grandmother when we get back. It’s okay, though. There’s other times I thought I won even bigger. But my life didn’t change then, either. This was just money.”
The three exited the glass building, exposing the doorway for a relieved pair of middle-aged women who made their way into the passageway as the three exited.
Summer’s evening warmth rested leisurely on the convertible, its faux-leather seats still hot, as the three swiftly drew back the top, with December driving, Larry in back and Lori stretching, lowering the passenger’s seat to almost entrap Larry.
“Yer a pretty together dude, my friend,” said Lori. “A’lot’ta people would’a just lost it in there. You held yourself together good, Bix. Real cool-headed.”
“She’s right, hunny,” added December. “And you were such a gentleman to that nice girl when she gave you dat pen.”
.
December and Lori each offered reasons why they would pass on the steakhouse. They could just hang out at the room while Larry and Lawrence ate. “Then when you two are done, we can just head back,” said December. “You don’t have to put out room money you don’t got, baby. We’ll be okay.” After a moment, December instructed Larry to bring back a doggie bag. “A big one.”
.
“Why the lounge?” asked Larry.
“I won’t be in his room if he’s there,” said Lori. “I’d like to be on neutral ground.”
December stood, surrounded by seven or eight men in suits, at the bar. Larry removed the paper umbrella from his drink and tried to stab a pineapple chunk floating in the glass.
.
When I entered the hotel lobby looking for Larry, it occurred to me that since I had not seen him in years, there was a chance I might not recognize him, but Larry had not changed at all. I approached and realized that the tall, attractive woman with Larry who had her back to me was my ex-wife.
“My God, Lori,” I said, as she turned around. I was stunned by the deep honey glow of her perfect skin and flawlessness of her remarkably toned body. “You look amazing.”
“Yeh, well, swimming. Training.”
I stood, unable to speak, just looking at the woman who I would trade everything in the world at that moment to again have in my life.
“It’d be great if you could just let me hang out in the room while you guys eat,” Lori said. “Isn’t my scene, the steakhouse thing.”
“Sure, yeh, of course,” I said, still struggling for words.
“K, well,” said Lori, “gimme your keys, whatever the hotel gave you.”
“Both of ‘em?” I asked.
“It’s the whole army thing. Don’t like surprises.”
Lori took both keys and excused herself. She walked across to the bar, and an incredibly hot Spanish or Italian woman followed her to the elevator.
.
At 8:45, it took almost five minutes to make it to the Morton’s counter, to confirm our table.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but we’ve lost half our party. We’re just two.”
“We have your table for four opening, but nothing right away for two and we do have a couple with a standing nine o’clock. They may wind up taking the next table,” said the hostess.
“Are they here?” asked Larry.
“It’s a… standing reservation,” said the hostess.
Larry turned to me, as we stood next to the counter, unable to make our way much further. “So how’s life at the bank?” asked Larry.
“It’s still there,” I said.
“Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. America, huh?” he said.
“Guess so,” I said, to brush away the comment.
“Wait, hold on,” said Larry, as he looked over my shoulder. “That’s the Governor.”
California Gov. Edmund G. Brown, Jr., and his wife, had entered, unescorted, and approached the counter. Within seconds, the crowd had parted and the couple stood next to me and Larry, at the counter.
“I thought I recognized that bald head,” said Larry.
“Is our standing reservation available?” asked the Governor’s wife.
“Actually, these people’s reservations went from four to two, and so they are awaiting the next seating for two,” said the hostess, pointing to me and Larry.
“Is their table for four still available?” asked the Governor.
On seeing nods, the Governor turned his hawk-like nose to me and Larry. “The next table’s yours,” said Gov. Brown. “May we share your table for four while another table for two is prepared?”
“Yeh, sure,” said Larry, and without another word, we were being escorted, me following the Governor’s wife, as Larry and Gov. Brown followed the hostess.
“It’s lovely of you to share a table, and thank you,” said the Governor’ wife, as we sat. “But no need to concern yourselves about us.”
“You’re... Edmund... Junior,” said Larry, ignoring the First Lady’s request for space.
“Correct,” said the Governor.
“Your father was Pat… Edmund... Senior.”
“Also correct.”
“And he was city attorney in San Francisco before he ran for Attorney General?”
“District Attorney. Remember,” said the Governor, “San Francisco is both a city and county.”
“And he started his first campaign at the Oregon border, with a sign reading ‘Thank you for visiting California’ at his back,” said Larry, as though telling a tale of his own life, though the tale was from decades before he and I were born.
“Correct, as well. A simpler time.”
“And then he lost to Reagan?”
“The third run was Mr. Reagan. My dad beat Mr. Nixon the second time around,” said the Governor. “That’s why we don’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore.”
“How’d you go bald?”
“Ever been mayor of a big city?” asked the Governor.
When the manager came to table to welcome the First Couple, he brought two squat glasses of amber liquid over ice, and chatted warmly. As he stepped away from the table, he looked briefly to me and Larry, smiled weakly, and walked off.
Larry pulled his own chair slightly towards mine and leaned forward. I leaned in, as he whispered. “Today, I found out I didn’t win the lottery.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What was that?”
“Two-hundred-and-thirty-five million dollars in the MegaMillions. I had all five plus the Mega, but I didn’t win.” Larry sat back. “So that’s why I don’t have anything to say about the business angle. There isn’t one, anymore… although some director wants to make a movie about my grandmother, but that is not why I asked to meet you.”
“You called me here, paid for my flight… put my job on the line, made me spend half the day yesterday looking at a train museum… to tell me you didn’t win the lottery?”
“Like I say, I had all five plus the mega number. I had the whole line.”
“You said you didn’t win.”
“Right, I went to the shiny building and the woman with red hair told me the date was wrong,” said Larry. “So I didn’t win....”
“Excuse me,” interrupted the Governor, “but it sounds like you are discussing a state operation. Did you win the lottery, son?”
“I thought I did,” said Larry. “I had a slip with winning numbers, and it matched a line on my ticket... all five and the mega.”
“Did it match your date of play?” asked the Governor.
“No, it was for the previous draw,” said Larry. “And my friends drove up
with me from Long Beach, all of us thinking I had won.”
“That’s some tough luck, kid,” said the Governor. “Hope it was a nice drive.”
“Thanks, Governor.” Larry reached to his wallet, on the table, and pulled out his ticket for that evening’s draw that he had shown the woman with the red hair. “I got one for tonight, tho.”
“Well,” said the Governor, pulling out an iPhone, “let’s see how you did.”
The Governor’s wife reached her hand towards the phone and asked if she could help, to which the Governor responded that Sutter wasn’t the only old dog capable of learning new tricks. “And, bingo....” Gov. Brown paused. “Bingo, bango, bongo... you appear to be a winner, kid.”
“No, like I say....”
“Tonight’s draw, son,” said the Governor. “You did it. You hit all five plus the mega.” The Governor handed the ticket back to Larry and reached into his shirt pocket for a pen. “You better sign that.”
Larry took the pen and ticket and quickly filled out the back side.
“Keep the pen,” said the Governor. “Maybe you can write a check to the State of California with it one day. We certainly could use it.”
“No joke?” said Larry.
“I don’t joke about state government operations,” said the Governor.
The hostess approached, telling the Governor that his table was ready. “Good luck, kid, whatever you decide to do, and, seriously, please use that pen if you want to write a check. Our state parks could use it.” The Governor and his wife stood, prompting me and Larry each to also stand. Larry reached across and shook the Governor’s hand, and then the First Lady’s, before he turned to me.
“Should we stay or should we go?”
“We could go tell Lori,” I said, wanting more than anything to trade in Governor Jerry Brown and his steakhouse for another five minutes gazing at Lori Lewis.
“I can’t eat now, anyway,” said Larry.
.
“You have a lot of choices in front of you, Larry,” I said, listing some options, vis-à-vis tax obligations and cash-flow, as we walked to the car.
Larry talked on points completely unrelated to sound management of a vast fortune. “I’d like to fund some of the people that I like, like the woman on Lente Loco and this Polish singer and my friend in Italy.
We got to the car. “Didn’t Lori take both room keys?” I asked.
“Yeh, and we are supposed to call, but this is pretty important,” said Larry. “And December must have some projects she wants to do.”
.
“Jeeze,” said Lori, in a robe at the latched door, “you weren’t gone an hour.”
“Sorry we didn’t call,” said Larry, “but it’s really, really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y important.”
Lori closed and unlatched the door. Larry entered my room first, to see Lori in my hotel robe, and as I stepped in, I saw an incredible bombshell with pitch black hair, barely dressed, laying across my bed.
“Oh, Lawrence,” said Larry, “this is Miss Milkshakes. December, this is Lawrence.”
“You boys are interrupting us,” said December.
Larry looked around. “Where’s all the equipment? Were you doing a show?”
“Our own kind’a show,” said December.
“Are you back for good? or leaving again?” asked Lori.
“I won,” said Larry.
“No, Larry, remember?” said Lori. “They told you that you didn’t win.”
“No,” said Larry. “Tonight. I won the lottery, tonight.”
“Tonight?” said Lori. “You won the lottery tonight?”
“I did. Promise,” said Larry. “Lawrence was with me. The Governor told me.”
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 ov
er 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.