Millionaires for the Month

by Stacy McAnulty

  When they told Reggie their Saturday night plans, Reggie did a cartwheel—literally, in the middle of the hotel lobby. Turned out, he was a big Danny Devon fan and even offered to buy his own ticket. That wasn’t happening.

  “Why do you like DD? Does he sing about philosophy or something?” Benji asked on the plane. They had, of course, booked private transportation.

  “Not exactly. Though a lot of songs can be tied back to philosophy, especially value theory and the essential meaning of life.”

  “Stop.” Benji held up a hand. “You’re going to make me hate all music.”

  “I already hate Danny Devon,” Felix said. “He’s a jerk.”

  “Have I told you about the philosopher David Hume?” Reggie asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “He has a quote, ‘The life of man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster.’ Think about that for a minute.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Benji said instantly—not even bothering to think about it for five seconds.

  Reggie clasped his hands and looked at Felix. “You’re wasting your limited time and energy hating Danny Devon. It is not impacting Danny Devon in the slightest. You’re only harming your soul and your happiness.”

  “He’ll be impacted in a few hours.” Benji pulled up the hood on his Obi-Wan robe, tapped his fingertips together, and added an evil laugh.

  “Consider this,” Reggie said. “Would you call an oyster a jerk? Is an oyster worth your scorn?”

  Felix shrugged. “I don’t talk to many oysters.”

  “Exactly!” Reggie leaned back and smiled.

  When they got to the concert, scanning the tickets took over an hour because they had to swipe through 1,442 of them. (The rules clearly stated they had to use what they bought, and Mr. Trulz agreed that scanning the tickets counted as “using.”) In just one day, they’d bought a quarter of all the seats in the theater.

  “Gee, where should we sit?” Benji asked when they got inside. He held out his arm and spun around. The tail of his brown robe flared behind him.

  “Should we go to the back?” Felix asked. “So it’ll seem emptier. But I want to be close enough to see his face.”

  “I’ll be in the front row.” Reggie left, not waiting for their decision and the boys reluctantly followed.

  Thanks to their mass ticket-buying, the first ten rows of the venue were mostly empty. Some people tried to sneak into the section, but security kept them out.

  After an opening act, the lights dimmed and fog rolled across the audience. The band did not step out on the stage but rose from some hidden basement. Then a song began that made Felix’s eardrums pulse.

  Danny Devon—the foulmouthed Laura Friendly hater—danced, jumped, and ran across the stage. There were still plenty of fans screaming and jumping.

  “I don’t think he cares!” Felix yelled into Benji’s ear.

  Reggie sang along and danced on his seat. He clearly didn’t consider Danny Devon an oyster.

  The first song seemed to last twenty minutes. When it finally ended, a pressure released inside Felix’s head.

  Danny Devon stepped to the front edge of the stage. He held out his arms and threw his head back to take in all the cheering. His chest rose with each deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the front row.

  “What the BLEEP is this?”

  (Felix had to insert his own bleep.)

  Benji held up his cell phone and recorded the scene.

  “Where are all your fans? Loser!” Benji yelled.

  “Why are you such a jerk?” Felix screamed.

  Reggie jumped down from his chair and said to Felix and Benji, “I’ll just find another seat.” Then he flashed Danny Devon a quick thumbs-up.

  “Is this a joke?” Danny Devon glanced back at his band. A guitarist just shrugged.

  “You owe Laura Friendly an apology,” Felix said, though he knew there was no way that was happening.

  Benji kept his phone aimed at the stage in case the singer decided to oblige.

  “Forget you. Forget her,” Danny Devon said, and added a hand gesture worthy of another bleep.

  “All these empty seats, we bought them,” Benji said, and waved toward the empty spots. “And we can keep buying seats until you apologize.”

  “Doesn’t matter who buys the seats. I still get paid.” The singer swore again and started the next song. The music seemed louder and more aggressive, even though it was a song about kissing in the back of a pickup truck.

  Is he trying to hurt us with sound waves? Felix wondered.

  Benji screamed something in Felix’s ear, but he couldn’t hear. So Benji texted.

  BENJI: Let’s get out of here

  FELIX: OK

  They texted Reggie, too, but he wanted to stay.

  “I think we got what we wanted,” Benji said as they stood in line at the concession stand.

  “Did we?” Felix asked. “We got revenge by paying him to do something he was going to do if we were here or not.”

  “Trust me. The empty seats got to him. He wasn’t happy,” Benji said. “But you don’t seem happy either.”

  “I’m just tired,” Felix said. “Spending this money is exhausting, and we’ve got a long way to go.” He’d looked at the banking app less than an hour ago. Even with the concert tickets, the private jet, and eight hours wasted online shopping, they weren’t even halfway.

  “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll spend the money. All of it.” Benji stood up straighter and dramatically put up his hood. “The Force is with us, young Skywalker. Believe in the Force.”

  Felix rolled his eyes. “You look ridiculous in that.”

  “But it’s very comfortable. I like to wear it after I get out of the shower.”

  “Too much information.”

  They got to the front of the line, and Benji ordered popcorn, nuts, eight different candies, and soda. They wouldn’t be able to eat all the snacks. Throwing away a big portion of their food had become standard, and the guilt stung every time.

  They found seats near a window.

  “A few weeks ago, I’d never imagined I’d spend a Saturday night in Chicago,” Felix said as he opened a box of Milk Duds.

  “Me either. I usually spend weekends hanging out with friends. Playing video games or watching movies. What about you?”

  “Same.” And by that, he meant sitting in his apartment. Alone.

  “When we move out of the hotel, you need to come over to my house,” Benji said. “I’m going to need to see Freebie.”

  “Yeah.” What will happen to Freebie if we don’t win? Felix refused to consider it. “What are you going to do with your millions—the real millions—when we win?”

  “I don’t know. Buy a car?” Benji shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “You?”

  “I’ll give some money to my mom to pay bills and stuff, and so she can go back to school.” Felix sipped his soda. “After that, I’m going into real estate. I’m buying my mom a house. I’m buying Georgie and Michelle a house. I’m buying everyone a house.”

  “What about your dad?” Benji asked.

  “My dad?” Felix’s head snapped in Benji’s direction. “What about him?”

  “Nothing. You never mentioned him. But I assume you have one or had one. That’s what we were taught in fifth-grade family life class. When they separated the girls into one room and the boys into the other, and they explained the changes—”

  “I remember,” Felix said. “I haven’t seen my dad in years. He’s not part of my life.”

  “Oh.” Benji shrugged.

  “When we first got the money,” Felix continued, “and we were on the news, I worried that he might just show up and ask for a million dollars. ‘Hey, son, I love you and thought you might be able to give your old
pops a few million.’ ” Felix did his best dad imitation, but he honestly didn’t think he’d recognize his father’s voice.

  “I even imagined slamming the door in his face,” Felix continued. “I tried to think of a clever comeback like ‘I’m sorry. Have we met?’ ”

  “Did he ever show up?” Benji asked.

  “No. Which is worse. Isn’t it? I know if he came here right now, he’d only want money. But he didn’t come for the money.” Felix turned the Milk Duds box in his hand. “He doesn’t want to see me, even for a million bucks.”

  “He must be the stupidest guy in the world.” Benji put an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Forget the million dollars. He’s missing out on something more important.”

  Felix rolled his eyes, expecting Benji to reply like an adult. He’s missing out on one great kid.

  “He’s never going to meet your friends,” Benji said. “And you have cool friends.”

  “Meaning you?”

  “Yep.” Benji sat up straight and lifted his chin.

  “His loss.”

  Benji

  Felix insisted they devote their Sunday to spending, and he insisted they start at 8:00 a.m. Benji insisted on the backseat of the Range Rover so he could sleep an extra hour as they drove to Saratoga to buy racehorses.

  Thoroughbreds cost way more than stray dogs. They purchased Leading Lady and New York Speed Machine for a total of $115,000, plus $330 per day for food and housing—or “boarding,” as the horse people called it. Then they “rode” the horses once around a small warm-up track. The trainers never let go of the leashes—or “leads,” as the horse people called them.

  Next, they headed to see an ad guy. Sure, it was a weekend, but the ad man offered to come in when they told him how many billboards they wanted to rent.

  They didn’t have anything to advertise, so they put up some of Reggie’s favorite philosophy quotes.

  The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom.—Schopenhauer

  All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to the understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason.—Kant

  The life of man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster.—David Hume

  Benji wanted to use his favorite philosophy quote too.

  With great power comes great responsibility.—Uncle Ben

  And Felix wanted to have a sign for his sister.

  Congratulations, Georgie and Michelle!

  In all, Benji and Felix bought two hundred digital billboards across New York at an average price of $415 per week, each. It had been a productive morning, and it was time for lunch.

  “What are we going to give Georgie and Michelle for their wedding?” Benji asked as they stood at the counter in Wendy’s. It wasn’t going to be an expensive meal—even if they upsized everything. They just craved fast food.

  “We can’t buy them anything. Not even a toaster.”

  “I have an idea,” Benji said. He’d thought of it last night while they were flying home from the Danny Devon concert. “We hire a band. A famous one, like Queen or the Beatles, but still alive.”

  “I guess. But we should ask Georgie first,” Felix said.

  “No, it’s a surprise. An expensive surprise.” Benji leaned closer to Felix. “Maybe a million-dollar surprise.”

  Felix’s eyes lit up.

  “So who’s Georgie’s favorite band? Or a favorite song?” Benji asked.

  “She loves that song ‘Never Ever Without You.’ She cranks up the radio when it comes on.”

  “I know that song. It’s by Apex-7. I’ll look into it.”

  They stepped up to the cashier. “For here or to go?” she asked.

  “To go,” Benji said. The boys ordered their lunch, plus a baked potato for Reggie and a plain burger for Freebie, who was on a potty break. They moved to the side as they waited for their food, and an old guy ordered next.

  “A small cheeseburger and a small coffee.” He pulled a handful of change from his pocket.

  “That’ll be $3.19.”

  The man pushed the coins around in his palm. After a few seconds, he changed his order. “I think I’ll just have coffee today.”

  The woman shrugged and tapped on the cash register screen.

  “Wait,” Benji said. “Your lunch is on me.”

  The man gave him a suspicious glare.

  “You remind me of my grandpa,” Benji said with a smile. “And I miss him so much.” His grandfather was alive and well and looked nothing like this guy. Benji gave the cashier his debit card.

  “Thank you.” The man squeezed Benji’s arm and almost looked ready to cry. All because of $3.19.

  The next to place an order were a mom and her two little kids. The younger one took forever deciding between apple juice and chocolate milk. When she finally settled on dairy, Felix stepped forward to pick up the check.

  “Thanks,” the mom said.

  Then they paid for the next guy, and the next family, and the next, and the next. They ate their food at the counter, telling everyone, “It’s on us,” between bites of fries and burgers. (Reggie and Freebie enjoyed a peaceful meal in the Range Rover.) After about the tenth purchase, the troll called questioning the spending.

  “We’re just having lunch with new friends,” Benji replied.

  “As long as you’re on the premises, I’ll allow it.” So they stayed even after they’d finished eating, buying food for anyone who came in the door. Not because they were spending thousands, but because it was fun. Especially when Benji got to tell children to order a Frosty with their nuggets.

  They’d just bought kids’ meals for an entire soccer team of five-year-olds when Benji and Felix both got a text message.

  LAURA FRIENDLY: Times Union Center in 1 hour

  Benji looked up from his phone. “Is that an invitation? Or an order? Or a butt-dial?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll text her back.”

  FELIX: Do you want us to be at the Times Union Center in 1 hour?

  LAURA FRIENDLY: No. Now it’s 59 minutes

  LAURA FRIENDLY: Don’t be late!

  They headed to the car, and Felix told Reggie the plan. Benji thought about resisting. Just because Laura Friendly was an adult and a billionaire and the mastermind of their spending game, he didn’t have to do what she said. But he was also curious. Very curious.

  When they arrived at the arena, it looked deserted: no concert or game or circus happening today. Reggie parked the car in a lot next to the main door.

  “Should I come in?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Benji said. “We might need a witness for whatever this is.”

  Felix rolled his eyes. “We don’t need a witness. But you can help with Freebie.” He handed over the leash.

  They walked into the arena and found Laura Friendly standing in the middle of the basketball court alone. The stands were dark and empty, but the Jumbotron was on. The score was zero–zero, and the teams were listed as Felix and Benji.

  “Well, if it isn’t the world’s biggest country music fans,” Laura Friendly yelled out to them.

  “What is she up to?” Benji murmured.

  Felix didn’t answer. He jogged down the steps to the court. Reggie and Freebie followed, and so did Benji, less enthusiastically.

  “I heard you attended a concert last night.” Laura Friendly crossed her arms.

  “We didn’t break any rules,” Felix said.

  “I’m not accusing you of cheating. I’m just curious why.”

  “Personally”—Reggie tapped his chest—“I’m a big fan of Danny Devon, but I assume you don’t want to hear from me. I’m going to take the dog for a walk. Be back in a few.” He waved at the boys and left the floor.

  “I am not a fan of Danny Dev
on,” Felix said.

  “Didn’t you see what he said about you? The guy hates you,” Benji said, and Felix elbowed him. “Ow!”

  Laura Friendly laughed. “A lot of people who don’t know me, hate me. It’s part of the job.” Benji would not want that kind of job.

  “So, you saw it?” Felix asked.

  “A few seconds of his rant. I don’t have the time to waste on outbursts like that.”

  “We watched it like ten times,” Benji said.

  “So why did you go to the trouble of attending his concert?” She tapped her chin.

  Benji got the feeling she was looking for a specific answer. Like when Mrs. Ogilvy asked, “How did the poem make you feel?” She didn’t want to know you felt bored. She wanted you to guess how she felt.

  “He was a jerk, and you’re our”—Felix paused—“friend.”

  Benji would have gone with associate.

  “I see.”

  “Why did he say all those things about you?” Benji asked. “He seemed mad mad. Like you killed his dog.”

  “It’s complicated, boys. My lawyers barely understand it. But when we started Friendly Connect fifteen years ago, it was a new platform that no one had ever seen. Brilliant, really. We had to write the rules while we wrote the code. The waters got murky quickly, and suddenly everyone was fighting over rights to content and privacy. We’re still working on reorganizing and protecting our customers. It’s safe to say, not everyone is happy with our past.”

  Felix nodded. Maybe he understood.

  Benji shrugged. “Doesn’t seem as bad as killing his dog.”

  Laura Friendly laughed. “I agree. For the record, I’ve never harmed an animal.”

  “He still shouldn’t say that stuff,” Felix added.

  “He should definitely work on expanding his vocabulary. Regardless, I appreciate you coming to my defense. Not many people do. So I have a surprise for you.”