Winning the Lottery - 8. Gabe seizes the moment

MacKenzie explained the Deacons sometime contradictory approach to money:

The “simple living” that I’d observed was really an illusion. The Deacons were quite willing to spend money at the drop of a hat if it suited them, as was exemplified by the property acquisition and house building in Hawaii. She told me that Gramps has a secret vice: he loves art. Not only does he give away millions each year supporting young artists, but he’s addicted to art auctions. What he does, on the sly, is anonymously bid on fine artwork. Then when he’s the successful bidder he donates the painting, sculpture or other object, like ancient tapestry, to a museum. He believes artwork should be enjoyed by the public, not just hidden away in private collections. She said she thought that the most he’d ever paid for a work of art was about $30 million, but that might have changed given the value of art these days.

Although she and Douglas lived fairly simply, that wasn’t the case for Uncle Darius, the elder son. He and his wife lived in a San Francisco mansion and did most of the family socializing (charity events and so forth). Uncle Darius wore expensive watches, and his wife had an extensive jewel collection.

The private plane issue was contentious. The Dea-Con Corporation owned an executive plane leasing company, so when a plane like the Gulfstream G550 was needed they’d just book the time through the lease scheduler. Uncle Darius had been arguing his need of a “personal” plane for some time, and Gramps was on the verge of giving in. Uncle Darius was really the “face” of the company now that Gramps was cutting back. He traveled extensively in the US and overseas.

As for her and Douglas, well they had their extravagances as well. They supported colleges and universities mostly. Research facilities, faculty funding and scholarships made up the bulk of their giving. “I guess our sinful extravagance is beachfront houses,” she laughed.

“So really what it boils down to is what you and your partner are comfortable with. I can guarantee that Derrick is never going to be budget conscious, but he’s uncomfortable with ostentatious displays of wealth. I think he sensed right away that you and he were on the same page about that. Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think extravagance is my problem. In fact, I feel awfully guilty about all the money you’re spending on my behalf to get set up here in Hawaii. The house, medical school....”

She was pensive for a few minutes before she said, “Forgive me for psychoanalyzing you, but I do have a degree in psychology.... I think ever since your unfortunate “outing” your whole survival has been contingent on performance—secrecy, invisibility, grade-based scholarships, work, and so forth. And that’s not a totally bad thing: reward based on behaviour is universal. What you haven’t experience, however, is support based on unconditional love. Derrick’s family supports his passion for flying because we love him and want him to be happy. Now we’re supporting you because we love you; not because we want something from you. And because you’ve rarely experienced unconditional love-based support you find it very difficult to understand, or accept. You feel guilty. How am I doing so far?”

I thought for a moment, weighing my response, knowing my thoughts needed testing, “So it’s like giving your kid a trip to Disneyland just because you love him.”

“Yes, exactly. But because we’re complex humans there’s always going to be a myriad of implications and expectations in any scenario.”

“Like, ‘we’ll take you to Disneyland but we expect you to behave while you’re there.’”

“That’s one scenario, yes. The other is ‘we’ll give you the tools, but you have to build the house.’”

“Ah, you mean you’ll get me into medical school and pay my fees, but it’s totally up to me whether I succeed or not.”

“Yes, you’ve got it.”

That summer it was a treat to devote our spare time to Cass. We established a daily routine of taking Lucy to the dog park in the early morning, then going to the beach after that. Cass loved playing in the water and was becoming a strong swimmer. We usually gave him free time in the afternoon to play with his toys and games. He was naturally fearful of any organized children’s’ activities, but about once a week we’d do something special like go to the zoo or hike up Diamond Head. We always tried to cook dinner as a family. Cass loved helping in the kitchen, and together we learned how to cook nutritious meals, although baking cookies was a lot more fun and rewarding.

Being constantly shadowed by at least two security guards took a bit of getting used to, but we always had a cordial relationship with them. In some ways they were like extended family. Although mostly inobtrusive, they were in charge. If they gave an order, there was no hesitation to follow it.

One day, about mid July Derrick handed me an envelope addressed to me from American Express. He had a bit of a grin when he gave it to me. “Junk mail,” I said, “Probably trying to entice me to get another credit card.”

“Maybe. But probably a good idea to take a look at it though, before you throw it away,” he said.

I opened the envelope and discovered a black American Express ‘Centurion’ card in my name. I’d heard about those cards—unlimited credit limit for wealthy individuals—but never seen one. “Derrick, is this for real?”

“Sure is, hon. I hope you like it.”

“Yes. It’s amazing. But what would I ever use it for?”

“Um, I don’t know. You can buy whatever you like. Clothes? Maybe you’ll need it to charter a jet....or something.”

“Who pays the bill?”

“Well, I do, sort of... It just gets automatically paid from my account. The corporate accountants take care of keeping track of it, for tax purposes....”

I stepped toward him and took him in a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered. “You are unbelievably generous and thoughtful.”

He gave me a searching look in response and put his mouth over mine in a gentle kiss. That soon developed into a passionate kiss. Unfortunately, we were interrupted with a heartfelt “Yuk!” from Cass.

That was just a temporary setback. After Cass was safely asleep that night, Derrick and I made love enthusiastically. By this time we were tuned to each other’s minds and bodies. With the gentlest of touches Derrick had me moaning in pleasure. That night I begged him to fuck me, which he did at a frustratingly slow pace. He’d bring me to the brink with his cock nudging my prostate, then he’d push in deep and hold still until the moment passed. Then he’d do it all over again. I was groaning and thrashing my head side to side on the pillow before he finally let me go over the edge and followed me to his own thunderous orgasm. He collapsed on top of me, our torsos slick with cum, our minds short-circuited.

I just kept repeating “I love you,” like a mantra. Derrick was breathing hard, he had done most of the work, so it took him some time to catch his breath before whispering, “I love you too, Gabe, so, so much.”

The next day he left for a three day work trip. As we were kissing goodbye he entreated me to go shopping and use my new credit card. When I started to object, he gave me ‘that’ look (the one he’d learned from Gramps). So I ended up promising that, yes, I would go shopping and buy something for myself.

After our beach time the next day, Cass and I strolled along Luxury Row around Kalakaua Avenue browsing in shops. There are a lot of high-end stores along there; everything was expensive and plastered with designer labels. What was I going to do with a $500 pair of shoes, or a $5,000 leather messenger bag? I was becoming frustrated. I didn’t want of that overpriced merchandise, but I didn’t want to disappoint Derrick either, or make him think that I didn’t appreciated having a black Amex card.

Finally, I settled on a pair of D & G sunglasses. Ridiculously expensive, but at least useful. Cass really liked them, so we got him a similar pair in a smaller size. The clerks went into serious fawning mode when they saw the black card.

I thought it would be nice for us to select a gift for Derrick. We decided on Yves Saint Laurent and browsed the shirt section. We looked carefully and finally found a shirt that suited Derrick’s coloring perfectly. In a ‘what the hell’ moment Cass and I each selected a shirt for ourselves. The black Amex card worked its magic again.

We were just leaving the YSL shop, with Cass carrying our ‘show off’ bags, when I heard my name called. I recognized the woman as my neighbor from Manitoba. I recognized the Orlovs, but they didn’t socialize with my parents, so I didn’t know them well.

“Gabriel! Imagine running into you here!”

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Orlov. Uh...this is my son Cass.”

Steve and Lisa quickly pushed between us and the Orlovs. “It’s okay,” I said, “Mr. and Mrs. Orlov are former neighbors from my hometown.”

Lisa graciously said it was nice to meet them; that any friend of Gabe’s was a friend of theirs. Mr. Orlov and Steve had a glaring contest.

Steve and Lisa moved off. “Who are those rude people?” asked Mrs. Orlov.

There was no use lying about the situation. “They’re our bodyguards,” I said.

“Bodyguards!” huffed Mr. Orlov. “What the hell do you need bodyguards for?”

Cass piped up. “I got kidnapped at Christmas. Now they’re extra careful.”

Mr. Orlov’s eyes rounded in surprise. I realized that whatever was said, whatever the impressions that the Orlov’s might be forming, would be grist for the gossip mill once they got home. At first I was reluctant to share any of my current life with them, it was nobody’s business. But then a devious plan began to form in my mind: I was going to use the Orlov’s to send a ‘fuck you’ message back to that ugly town. And maybe I could do something about James at the same time....

It was almost lunchtime, so I suggested we go grab a bite to eat and ‘catch up.’ Not that I was looking forward to spending time with the Orlovs or hearing news from my old hometown, but I wanted the Orlov’s to hear all about how I’d landed on my feet. I might as well give them an exclusive. Once they got home any news about me would spread like wildfire.

“Follow me,” I said, and headed off in the direction of the Royal Hawaiian.

Keoki, the concierge recognized Cass and me and came over to greet us. I explained we were there for lunch, and he said, “Yes, sir, Mr. Nichol, I’ll escort you to our best table by the window. I’ll put your security people at a table next to you, if that’s okay?”

I said that would be perfect. Mr. and Mrs. Orlov followed our little entourage mutely, their mouths gaping open.

Once we were seated, I opened the conversation with a banal inquiry asking them if they were in Waikiki on vacation. Yes, they were there to celebrate their 40^th wedding anniversary. Their grown children (both a little older than me) had presented them with an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii.

I insisted in ordering a bottle of Champagne to celebrate. Dom Pérignon. I was showing off outrageously—all part of my plan.

“You mentioned Cass was your son, Gabriel?” inquired Mrs. Orlov.

“Yes,” I replied, “My fiancé and I have joint custody.”

“And your finacée? Is she here with you? Are you here on vacation?”

“He, actually. And, no, we live here.”

The Orlovs looked shocked, and were silent for a moment while Cass and I looked at them expectantly. Mrs. Orlov broke the silence. She covered my hand with hers and said patronizingly, “Well, isn’t that nice.” The Orlov’s were curious (nosey might be a better word) about how I ended up in Hawaii. I explained about being transferred here from Vancouver, but further explained that at the moment I was taking time off before starting medical school in September.

They played into my hands by asking where we lived. I mentioned were living in a condominium nearby until our beachfront home was built. I was thoroughly ashamed of myself for the unmitigated bragging, but for my plan to work I needed to arm the Orlovs with enough juicy gossip to have them aching to impart it to all and sundry back home.

Nobody likes to be on the receiving end of a good brag, and the Orlovs were no exception. But I’ll give Mrs. Orlov credit, she behaved with steely politeness, but got her dig in nonetheless.

“Well, isn’t that nice.” she said again. “Specially since your parents treated you so badly. They thought it was such a big secret, but really, everyone knew.”

“Um...everyone knew?”

“Well, yes, everybody in town did. You know how hard it is to keep a secret in a small town. Nobody mentioned it to your parents, of course. We didn’t want to embarrass them.”

So that’s the way it was. Not only my parents, but everybody in that shit town viewed me as an embarrassment....all within a conspiracy of silence.

“You knew, then, that the Foroughis basically took me in? They were the only people in that town who were actually kind to me.”

“Yes, we knew that,” she said dismissively, “And we heard you did very well at college.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m able to go to med school.”

“Evelyn, who sells tickets at the bus station, said you’d bought a ticket for Vancouver.

“Yes, I got a job there, then, as I said, I got transferred to Hawaii.”

“Well, you’ve certainly landed on your feet,” declared Mr. Orlov somewhat sourly. “We’ll let folks at home know how well you’re doing.”

“Well, there are no secrets in a small town,” I said a little too brightly.

Pursuing safer ground, the Orlovs proceeded to show Cass and me about 50 boring pictures of the Orlov clan, which now included four grandchildren. Cass behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the whole ordeal.

Once our extravagant lunch was demolished, the Orlovs said they were off to finish gift buying. There was a moment of awkwardness when Mr. Orlov mumbled an offer to pay for lunch.

“Don’t worry,” I said breezily, “the hotel knows where to send the bill.”

Afterwards, I felt a twinge of guilt for my bad behaviour, but not for long.

Cass said, “Those people weren’t very nice.”

“No,” I replied. “But neither was I. I don’t want you to ever have the impression that being mean to someone is okay. I behaved badly, but, trust me, it was for a good reason.”

It was time to set part two of the plan in motion. On the way home I stopped at a mail box outlet and rented a post box then stopped at a drugstore and purchased a burner phone.

When Derrick came home I had to come clean, but I hoped he’d understand.

When I told him my plan, he said, “That’s an excellent plan, Gabe. I hope for all our sakes it works the way you hope it will. How much do you think you’ll give James if he meets your conditions?”

“Well, I can offer him some of the money Gramps gave me. I won’t need all of it for school. I hope Gramps doesn’t mind.”

Derrick thought for a few moments. “It’s not necessary to use that money. It will be my honor to pay whatever you think you need to—in fact that might be moot once I tell you another bit of news. Depending on how it works out, you can have James sign a contract whereby he can’t come back for more.”

“Good idea to keep in mind,” I said. I reflected for a minute, then told Derrick that under no circumstance would I provide for my parents. They’d abdicated their parental responsibilities, and I’d rather rot in hell than give them a penny! James there might be hope for. My parents, never.

Derrick was pleased with the shirt we’d bought him and thanked Cass and me profusely. He said, “And I have a little surprise for you. I alluded to it a minute ago.

“I’ve had the lawyers working on something. Once you sign a signature card you’re co-owner of our working bank account.”

“Working account?”

“Yeah, the one my Dea-Con Corporation income and my personal investment income goes into before it gets siphoned out for living expenses and for donations or to other investments. The cash balance varies, but it’s usually in the two to five hundred million range.”

I just looked at him, too stunned to say anything.

“I love the look on your face! You’re surprised, but you believe me. You know I’d never joke about something like that. It’s the best way, in the short term, to protect you if something happens to me. My Dea-Con shares are all tied up in a trust, and the way my will is worded, Cass will receive the bulk of my personal estate—the investments and real property. But because you’re now co-owner of that particular account the balance goes to you if...well, you know. Besides, I want you to feel equal to me....you know...to be independent, so you don’t have to ask for stuff.”

I knew better than to object, argue, negotiate or express even a hint of concern. Derrick was, in his own way, generous and protective. This was the way he was telling me he trusts me and loves me, and especially, that he wants me to be an equal partner in the relationship. In other words, I’d never have to fuck for a couch.

I was enormously grateful. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He took me into his arms, and, well, one thing led to another.

Meanwhile, the Orlovs did their job. Word got around.

About two weeks after their visit, the medical school secretary phoned to pass on a message that my brother had called looking for me. She passed on his phone number. My plan was working.

I let him stew for a week, then phoned him back on the burner phone I’d bought.

“James, it’s Gabe, you were trying to contact me.”

“Yeah, man, I heard you landed in clover over there in Hawaii.”

“What can I do for you, James?”

“Well, things haven’t been going good, you know. My job pays crap, and things are expensive in Toronto. I mean, could you spare a little cash? I’ll pay you back when I get on my feet.”

“Like you paid me back all those other times?”

“Jesus, Gabe, that’s harsh. Come on, man, you’re my brother. We gotta...you know...help each other.”

“Like the way you helped me fall down the stairs?”

“Jesus, man, it was just a joke.”

“A joke? Like when you tried to run me down with your car?”

“Christ, James, I was just a kid. What’s put a burr up your ass?”

As I expected there wasn’t a hint of apology from James. No remorse, just feeble excuses and an attempt to shift the blame back to me. It seemed unlikely that my plan would work; perhaps there was no redemption for James. I forged on nonetheless.

“Okay, James. I’ll get to the point. I’ll give you a substantial sum of money, no payback required, providing you write me a heartfelt letter of apology.”

“What for, man?”

“For pushing me down the stairs. For trying to run me over with your car. For knowingly using my college fund for that car. For your constant physical and mental abuse. For cruelly outing me. For provoking me then tattling to Dad. For not paying back the money I’ve already lent you. For being an overall mean prick. Need I go on?”

“Shit, man, that’s extra harsh. I was just kidding around. Why do you have to go and take it all so serious?”

I took a deep breath and tried to slow my pounding heart. My plan wasn’t working. Yet.

“James, I’m prepared to give you a substantial sum of money. But only if you write me a sincere letter of apology.”

“How much is substantial?”

“One hundred thousand dollars. And that may be the last penny you’ll ever get from me.”

I could practically hear the wheels turning in James’ head, but he took the bait. “Um, I guess I could write...um...an apology.”

He took the bait. Now to reel him in....

“And, James, it has to be sincere, so take your time and craft a good letter. If I sense even a bit of disingenuousness, our deal’s off.”

“What’s disingenuousness?”

“Falseness. Faking it.”

“Oh.”

“I want you to think carefully about the letter you write. Here’s what I want you to do....

“Do we have a deal, James?”

“Uh...I guess so. I’ll try. Where can I send the letter to?”

I gave him address of the PO box that I’d rented earlier.

Later, I said to Derrick, “I’m not sure I got through to James.”

“Well, you’ve done your very best, but really, it’s up to him. It’s always been up to him.”

It took almost three weeks for the letter to arrive from James. For that whole time I was on pins and needles. After the first week, I checked the post box daily, eager to see what James would write.

When the letter finally appeared, I tore it open and began to read...

Dear Gabe,

This is the third time I’ve begun to write this letter Its been very hard to put myself into your shoes but I gave it a good try. What you asked me to do has made me think and I realize now how my actions must have hurt you.

I’m sorry for outing you the way I did you must have felt very hurt and rejected....

Yes! I pumped my fist in the air. I could tell by the bad grammar and punctuation that it was in James’ own words.

...and the letter went on like that. As I’d asked him to, James cited several instances of his bullying, and after each one, he gave me his best guess of how it might have impacted my life and made me feel.

He ended the letter by writing...

I hope you can forgive me and that maybe in the future we can become friends and real brothers. I am ashamed of the way I was but I’m very proud of how strong you are to be able to survive through all that shit.

Sincerely,

Your brother James

My gambit paid off. And my brother, as I’d so fervently hoped, wasn’t’ a complete sociopath. A selfish, spoiled prick maybe, but somewhere deep down inside he had untapped stores of empathy.

I knew James and I had work to do. A lot of work. A leopard doesn’t change his spots over night. But at least we had a base on which to build.

Before I responded to James, Derrick and I discussed the situation at length. I admitted it was hard for me to forgive and trust, but I was trying. It’s not like the movies where characters suddenly reconcile, embrace tearfully, and all is love and forgiveness. No, it was going to take time to rebuild my relationship with James.

I phoned James and we talked for an hour. He mentioned our parents, and from the little he managed to say before I cut him off, they were not doing well. Dad was drinking heavily, and Mom was depressed. (Karmic justice perhaps?) Manly we just talked, a little awkwardly, about what we’d been up to for the last few years. James admitted he wasn’t leading a healthy lifestyle. He was spending too much time at the bars. He said he was going to try to change that. At Derrick’s suggestion I invited him down to spend Christmas with us.

I sent James a cashier’s check for one hundred thousand dollars.

There was just one more loose end to tie up from home: the Foroughis. The rest of that shit town had known about, and chosen to ignore, my plight, but the Foroughis helped me. They gave me support, and a form of love, when nobody else was willing to step up to the plate.

“I want to do something nice for them,” I explained to Derrick. “But they’re proud people. It can’t look like charity. Money was a good incentive for James, but he’s greedy. The Foroughis might be insulted if I offer money.”

“Sometimes a heartfelt thank you is enough,” said Derrick. “Although I think you should ask them what they’d like. That way you’d be giving them something they really want.”

“Should I offer them a trip to Hawaii? All expenses paid?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. I’d love to meet them.”

When Derrick went back to work I phoned Mr.. Foroughi and, with some trepidation, extended the invitation. I say ‘trepidation’ because Mr.. Foroughi, proud, independent man he was, might view my offer as an insult.

I’d been remiss about contacting him in the last few months, and he was delighted to hear from me. He’d heard all the gossip and was overjoyed that I was doing well. “I’m happy for you! My mother is happy for you! Your father is not a... good man,” he said. “To have such a good son, and to treat you so shamefully...”

“You and Mrs. Foroughi were the only people in town who were good to me. I wouldn’t have made it without your help and support. I’d like to do something nice for you. If you’d let me.... Please.”

“Gabriel! To hear that you are doing so well! That is more than enough reward!”

“I was hoping you and Mrs. Foroughi would come to Hawaii during the Christmas holidays.”

He refused. I pressed. I told him how pleased that would make me. He finally relented. We agreed on the approximate dates, and I told him I would make all the arrangements. He was probably going to be pissed with me when he found out their transportation was the Gulfstream jet.