Millionaires for the Month

by Stacy McAnulty

  “I need to ask you something,” Felix said. “Would you consider changing the rules, please?”

  “No.”

  “I just want to—”

  “Felix. It is Felix, right?” She gestured between them. “I get the two of you confused.”

  Felix nodded.

  “I cannot change the rules.”

  “I don’t want to change all the rules,” Felix tried to explain.

  “No!” She placed both hands on the table.

  “You didn’t even hear which rule,” Benji said, copying her posture. “Will you listen to him before you make up your mind?”

  “I will not change the rules. But if you insist, you can tell me which one is an issue.” She waved her hand as if to say “Get on with it.”

  “I just want to tell my mom about the challenge,” Felix said quickly.

  “She might quit her job,” Benji added, talking much louder than Felix. “And she gave up their apartment.”

  Laura Friendly looked at Felix and then Benji and then Felix again. Her eyebrows arched up, and one side of her mouth pulled down. Maybe she had a heart after all.

  “So, can I tell my mom?” Felix lowered his head.

  “Not if you want to win,” Laura Friendly answered.

  “You’re the worst!” The words came out of Benji’s mouth before he had a chance to think about them. A common problem. For a second, he worried she would cancel the whole deal and kick them out. But she just laughed.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” She stood and twisted, stretching her back. “Anything else?”

  Felix shook his head. He looked paler than usual.

  Laura Friendly finished the green sludge in her water bottle and turned toward the door.

  “I have a question,” Benji said. This wasn’t planned; it just popped into his brain. “If you were us, how would you spend the money?”

  “I’m not going to give you a solution,” she said. “That’s not playing fair.”

  “Why? It’s not against the rules. We’re just kids. We can’t talk to anyone else.” Benji shrugged.

  “Plus, you’re brilliant. I read your book,” Felix said. “Even though you quit college, it wasn’t because you weren’t smart.”

  “I quit because I was smart.” She put a finger to her chin. “How would I spend all that money quickly?” She seemed to be talking to herself. “I’d see the world. Singapore, Zurich, Melbourne. Oh, I know. You should visit Tuvalu. It’s an island nation that’s not going to be around long if oceans keep rising.”

  “I don’t have a passport,” Felix said.

  “And we have school,” Benji added. “It’s basically a full-time job. We should actually be there now.”

  She laughed. “I don’t miss being a child. Not at all.” She glanced at her smartwatch. “I’ve reserved the executive gym. Care to join me?”

  “Sure,” Benji answered. “And being a kid isn’t so bad. Except when you’re being tortured by an evil billionaire.”

  “Don’t think of it as torture. If you do it right, this month might be the highlight of your life.”

  Felix

  “Hi, Mom,” Felix said when her voice mail picked up. “I’m in Boston with Benji and Reggie and Laura Friendly. Don’t worry. Everything is good. We had a business meeting. I just forgot to tell you.” Felix’s stomach hurt from the half lie. “The hotel manager has someone watching Freebie. Can you check on him and bring him to the room? I’ll be home late. We’re going to a Celtics game. Look for me on TV. Love you.” He turned off his phone to save the battery—well, that was one of the reasons.

  Turned out, Laura Friendly was a big basketball fan—Lakers fan, specifically. Over lunch in Boston Common, Felix learned she had season tickets in LA. She also liked skiing, had never played Minecraft until this afternoon, and always fell asleep at the opera. (“At least on eight occasions.”) Felix, Benji, and Laura Friendly had spent the whole day together. Her assistant was not happy. From the sound of it, Laura Friendly had missed a hundred meetings and a thousand phone calls. All of which were extremely important and costly.

  “Do you think we can get floor tickets?” Felix asked as Reggie drove them to the TD Garden.

  “You don’t want floor seats.” Laura Friendly sat in the front, playing with the radio. “Players crash into the front row. You want a luxury box. Let me make a call.”

  “No! I want Carl Jones Moore to crush me,” Felix said.

  Laura Friendly clicked her tongue. “When you get a size-fifteen shoe in your face, you may think different.”

  “So, can we get front row?” Felix asked. No one was going to convince him those weren’t the best seats.

  “For the right price, you can get anything,” Benji replied.

  Laura Friendly groaned. “Common misconception.”

  “In modern society, scholars argue that money is a need like air, water, food, and shelter,” Reggie added. “All citizens, all people, need access to money for survival.”

  “It’s a means to get what you truly need.” Laura Friendly seemed to enjoy arguing with everyone. “You cannot eat a dollar bill.”

  “Well, I’m not eating my money. I’m using it to buy primo seats, baby.” Benji held up his phone, showing off the tickets—three rows back and almost midcourt. Close enough to get sweat flung on them.

  Reggie parked the Lamborghini in a VIP lot for a hundred dollars. Laura Friendly tried to pay, but Benji beat her to it.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”

  Before making their way to the seats, Benji and Felix stopped off at a merchandise stand.

  “Two of everything,” Benji said to the attendant.

  “I’d buy you a Moore jersey,” Felix said to Ms. Friendly. “But I’m not allowed.”

  “And I wouldn’t wear it. Even if I was dead.”

  The foursome found their seats, but Felix didn’t sit. He stood as the teams warmed up. He stood for the national anthem and the announcement of the starting lineup. He stood for the tip-off. He stood for the first five minutes of the game.

  “Why did we buy seats if you weren’t going to use them?” Benji asked.

  Reggie, who declared he wasn’t a sports fan, read a book by someone named Nietzsche. Laura Friendly criticized every play by both teams. And Benji was mostly interested in food: popcorn, nachos, fries, and hot dogs (which Felix refused out of guilt—he hadn’t had a hot dog since the field trip—and Reggie refused because he was a vegetarian).

  At the end of the first quarter, the Celtics were up by three. Felix finally sat in his seat and chugged a Coke, while Benji went to buy even more food.

  “Having fun?” Ms. Friendly asked.

  “This is…great.” Great didn’t begin to describe it. “I’ve never been to an NBA game.”

  “You should go to a Lakers game. Those are great.”

  “If I was a billionaire, I’d go to every Celtics game. And maybe I’d start following football and baseball, too.”

  “When you do something all the time, it loses its appeal. It’s no longer special,” Ms. Friendly said. “You need to pace yourself.”

  That was easy, ridiculous advice for a billionaire to spew. Plenty of people watched their team every time they played.

  “You can have whatever you want and do anything you want. Maybe you shouldn’t complain about that.” He stared at his Air Flights, embarrassed about speaking to an adult that way. But she shouldn’t act like money was a curse. It wasn’t! Except when you had to spend five million in thirty days.

  “There are limits to everything,” she said, and Felix could sense she was staring at him.

  “Not when you have billions.”

  “Billions can’t buy another hour in the day. Can’t even buy me an extra minute.”

  “But…” Felix lo
oked up and raised a finger to stop her. “It can buy you a cook and a maid and someone to do all your work, which frees up time. That’s like getting an extra hour.”

  “Not quite the same.”

  Felix just shrugged.

  “And money can’t buy a do-over.” She sighed. “Can’t rewind time and give you a second shot at something.”

  Felix’s mind immediately flashed to the twenty dollars. They shouldn’t have taken it, or at least, he should have returned the money the next day.

  “That’s what I’d buy if I could. A do-over.” Laura Friendly nodded to herself. “I missed something important, and I’ll never get that opportunity again. I want to do that day over. March twentieth. A year and a half ago.”

  Felix didn’t get a chance to ask what had happened. The second quarter started, and Benji returned with ice cream and candy bars.

  “I got a Crunch bar, Ms. Friendly. Didn’t even have to steal it. Want some?” He broke it in half and offered her a piece.

  “Thank you, Benji,” she said, taking the chocolate.

  In the second quarter, the Celtics went up by ten. With every basket, deafening cheers erupted from the crowd. The place vibrated. A player even crashed into the seats, and Felix got elbowed in the head. He hoped it would leave a bruise.

  “Do you play basketball?” Ms. Friendly asked Benji at halftime while dancers took over the court.

  “Yeah. So does Felix. We’re trying out for the school team.”

  “But you’re so small,” she said to Felix. He knew this but still hated it when people pointed out the obvious.

  “Don’t let that fool ya,” Benji said, coming to Felix’s defense. “He’s good. Really good.”

  When the dancing finished, the announcer explained some kind of shooting contest. Felix only half listened as a camera panned around the arena and stopped on contestants. Their faces were projected on the Jumbotron over the court.

  Felix watched and wished the game would start again. Then he realized it was his face on the screen. Benji was the first to jump and yell like the world was on fire. Then Reggie and even Laura Friendly hooted.

  “What’s happening?” Felix felt heat rising up his neck.

  “You’re going to take the half-court shot!” Benji smacked Felix hard on the back and knocked him into the group of guys in front of them. They didn’t seem to mind; they pushed Felix toward the aisle. Toward the court. Toward inevitable humiliation.

  The crowd cheered as the three contestants made their way to the man with the mic. A young woman jogged to the center, pumping her fist over her head. An older guy who looked like he was hiding a basketball under his T-shirt came from the far bleachers. And Felix.

  “Are you ready for a chance to win ten thousand dollars?” the announcer asked. The woman and the man and the crowd screamed yes.

  “You get one shot,” the announcer continued. “You must release the ball before the half-court line. If it goes in, you’re ten thousand dollars richer, thanks to our sponsors at Crown Honda. Ladies first.” The announcer asked her name.

  “Bella,” she said with a curtsy. Then she selected a ball from the rack and dribbled to the center circle. The crowd began chanting her name. Bella drew the ball back underhand and launched it like a softball pitch.

  The ball sailed through the air and hit the backboard off-center.

  The crowd gave a collective “Aw!”

  The man offered to let Felix go next, but Felix shook his head. So the man grabbed a basketball. He started nearly at the opposite baseline and ran with the ball to center court, then flung the ball and himself. The ball sank well before the basket, and he landed on his knees.

  Then it was Felix’s turn.

  He selected a ball from the rack. It felt soft, so he picked a different one. This made the crowd go “Oooooh” like Felix knew what he was doing. He walked to the center tip-off circle and dribbled the ball four times. The same routine he did before every foul shot—shots he often missed. And this was three times farther from the basket. He might as well have been on Mars.

  He didn’t want to attempt the shot.

  But he also really wanted to make the shot.

  He couldn’t do the second without the first.

  The crowd chanted his name, and players began appearing from their locker room.

  “Now or never, Felix,” the announcer added.

  So Felix did the only rational thing that would give him a chance of sinking a basket. He moved his legs wide, held the ball in two hands, and threw a potty shot.

  The crowd laughed at first. But as the ball smoothly arced to the basket, the stadium quieted, and time slowed down. It hit the rim. Bounced gently off the backboard. Hit the rim again. And finally fell through the hoop.

  Small fireworks erupted from the ceiling. The lights in the entire building turned green, and his name flashed on the scoreboard. A Celtics player—Felix was too disoriented to know which one—ruffled his hair.

  “Felix! Felix!” The announcer could barely be heard over the crowd noise. “Congratulations! What are you going to do with the ten thousand?”

  Felix shrugged. He’d just made the shot of a lifetime in front of thousands of people, and for the first time in a week, he actually hadn’t been thinking about money.

  “Um…I guess I can give it to my mom.” With that realization, his night got even better.

  Benji

  When Benji walked into the hotel restaurant, he saw his parents, Felix and his mom, and Reggie seated in the corner. No one was eating.

  Benji had only gotten four hours of sleep last night and didn’t have the energy for a breakfast meeting, but his mom had insisted.

  “Good morning.” He forced cheeriness into his voice.

  “We need to talk about your field trip to Boston,” his mom said.

  Benji held back a groan. Starting with “We need to talk” always meant “Benji, you need to listen.”

  “What made you think it was okay to skip school and leave town for an entire day without telling anyone?” she asked.

  “It was a business trip.” Benji looked to Felix for help, but Felix had gone into turtle-hiding-in-his-shell mode.

  “You are not a CEO. You are not a businessman.” His dad gripped the table.

  “You are a twelve-year-old child,” his mom said.

  “Something could have happened to you,” Ms. Rannells added. She ran a hand over Felix’s red hair.

  “Reggie was there,” Benji said. “He’s an adult.”

  “Man, don’t pull me into this? I’m just the driver.” Reggie held up his hands. “I go where I’m told.”

  “He’s barely an adult.” Benji’s mom shook her head.

  “He’s twenty-two. He can vote and buy alcohol.” Instantly, Benji realized that this was probably not the right thing to say.

  “He is not your guardian,” his mom said.

  “We’re sorry,” Felix murmured. It seemed like his way out of every situation was to apologize. And by saying “we,” he’d dragged Benji into the strategy.

  “Mom, I can’t explain everything right now,” Benji said, decidedly not taking the apology route. “You’ve got to trust me. We needed to go to Boston. We’ll make up the schoolwork. Everything is fine. I promise.”

  “Trust you?” his dad asked. “How much money have you spent so far?”

  Ms. Rannells held up her hands. “No, no. We said we weren’t going to talk about money. This isn’t about the money.”

  “It’s always going to be about the money.” The muscles in his dad’s neck looked like they were flexing.

  “We need to set some rules,” Benji’s mom said.

  More rules? That was the last thing they needed.

  “You are to ask permission before going anywhere,” his mom continued. “Whether it�
�s out for pizza or off to Boston, you ask first.”

  “You should know to ask, Felix.” Ms. Rannells tried to look at her son, but his chin was snugly against his chest and his focus was on his hands.

  “There will be no more skipping school. Not one minute.” Benji’s mom tapped the table with her index finger as she said the last three words.

  “And you will stop the excess spending,” his dad said. “Immediately. A twelve-year-old boy doesn’t need to spend more than ten dollars a day. Ever.”

  “Am I fired?” Reggie asked, looking at Benji’s father.

  “Jack, please.” Benji’s mom put a hand on her husband’s. “You’re getting upset.”

  “I am upset.” He crossed his arms. “Why are we living in a hotel? Why are we letting our son burn through five million dollars? This should make us all upset.”

  “We’re living in a hotel because the house is being worked on, and I need to be near Felix for a month. We’re business partn—”

  “You are not a business!” Benji’s dad stood up quickly, and his chair fell over.

  “Jack,” his mom said.

  “I’m sorry. This has gotten out of control.” Benji’s dad made a show of looking at his watch. “I’m late.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and then touched Benji’s shoulder briefly before leaving.

  “He has a flight to San Francisco this afternoon. I’m sorry,” Benji’s mom said to Ms. Rannells. “This has been hard on him. On all of us.”

  Benji bit back a laugh. Getting five million dollars was not a burden. They didn’t even know about the hard part.

  “We agree to your rules,” Felix said. Benji was surprised to hear him speak. “We won’t run off again. We won’t skip school. We’ll be responsible with the money. But Reggie still works for us through the end of his contract.”

  Reggie took off his glasses and exchanged a look with Benji. There was no contract.

  Felix, look at you telling a white lie, Benji thought.