HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout (10 page)

“But that means I didn’t win,” said Larry,
now holding four slips of ticket paper, each worth nothing.

.

Calvin squirmed his shoulders, first in a
horizontal twist, and, when a wave brought more water – which Larry
announced in an excited whisper into his father’s ear – with an
up-and-down motion, attempting to dislodge an arm, or rise to get
traction under a foot, and thus free himself from what would surely
be the end, since only his head rose above the sand, and Larry
leaning in close guaranteed no one would see Calvin die.

.

“W’ull, if I didn’t win the lottery,” said
the professor to the jury, “what’ta’bout this ticket?”

“That’s for tonight,” said the woman with
ropes of red. “Good luck.”

Larry looked at the slips in his hand. He
politely handed them to the woman. “Could I give these to you?” he
asked.

“Certainly,” she said, taking them from
Larry’s hand with a touch so gentle as to have been almost
imperceptible. He looked at the ticket in his other hand and showed
it to the woman, who said simply, “tonight.” He folded it and
placed it carefully in his wallet, behind his VISA card.

“Oh, and thanks for the pen,” said
Larry.

“Of course,” said the woman.

Lori put her hand on Larry’s neck and the
other on his shoulder and she hugged him briefly from behind. She
stood at his side and put her head on his shoulder. He leaned his
head against hers.

“Poor bracito,” said December, opening
Larry’s hand, and holding it. “Poor baby.”

.

Calvin’s head lolled in the water, as two
lifeguards furiously dug until they each could use the underarm as
a leverage spot to pull the unconscious man high enough that he was
no longer under incoming tidal waters. A lift by the two and the
timing of a wave resulted in Calvin, like a dolphin, squirting up
from the water, and landing in the foam of the sea; but, unlike a
sea mammal, his landing was flat on his stomach, and yielded a
projectile expulsion of seawater, one small fish and a long stream
of diluted vomit. Calvin coughed.

.

December squeezed her arms together and
shifted so her body enveloped Larry’s arm, marshmallowing it in the
glowing warmth of her cleavage. “I’m sorry you didn’t win the
money, hunny,” she said. “It’s been fun, tho, hasn’t it?”

“It’s okay,” said Larry, limply.

“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.”