by M. Alan Marr
“No, actually,” Chaz said. “I bought it in Los Angeles.”
“Even better.” Abe nods. “That should spare us any reporters snooping around Midtown.” He adds, “Even so, I still recommend some downtime while you wait out the ten days. When we verify the ticket, the media could get wind of it, and I’d prefer you lie low until it blows over. Just charge everything, and don’t worry about the cost. Better yet, have Mr. Caelestis cover everything and cut him a check when it’s all over. We can keep an eye on your account and make sure everything falls in line. And when you get back, we can set up meetings with financial and investment planners who deal in large sums.”
“That’s fine,” Chaz says. “But anyone you deal with, I want some kind of non-disclosure agreement signed. I don’t want my name out there at all.”
Abe writes that down. “Discretion is assured, sir.” Abe shuffles his pages of notes. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I’d like to bring in Mr. Williams, our managing partner. He’s a financial wizard and would have the most expert opinion on how to proceed.”
“Certainly,” Chaz says.
Abe leaves the room. Chaz nervously looks at Dev. “Is this really happening? Did I really just win four hundred million dollars?”
Dev smiles. “I think it was in the stars you would win.”
“Lucky stars.” Chaz takes a breath. “Wow . . . ten days. What are we going to do for ten days?”
“Let’s travel.”
“Like where?”
Dev shrugs. “Know anywhere good?”
Chaz smiles. Dev’s casual sense of calm makes him feel more comfortable. “I know a few places.”
The receptionist who showed them in enters with a tray of finger sandwiches, fruit, and designer waters. She sets the tray on the table and lays out cloth napkins. “Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?”
Chaz looks at Dev and jokes. “I think I could use a good stiff scotch.”
The receptionist doesn’t say a word and departs the room. A minute or so later, she reappears with another tray. This one contains two short glasses, each with ice and an inch or two of scotch. A just-opened bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label is also on the tray. She sets it down.
Chaz looks at the tray, then at the woman. “I was only kidding.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir.” She moves to take it away.
“Oh, hell no,” Chaz says, stopping her. “It’s a sin to waste scotch.”
The receptionist smiles. “Yes, sir.”
Dev hands Chaz a glass and then takes the other and holds a toast. “To broader horizons.”
“I will definitely drink to that.”
They touch glasses together and then take a sip. Chaz marvels at the delicate velvety smoothness of the fine scotch. “Oh, this is exquisite.”
Abraham Goldberg and the firm’s managing partner enter the room.
“Excuse me, Gentlemen,” Abe says. “Chaz, this is Bill Williams, managing partner. Williams, may I present Chaz Ronaldi, and, of course, you already know Mr. Caelestis.”
Williams shakes Chaz’s hand first (to secure new business). “Mr. Ronaldi, pleasure to meet you.” He shakes Dev’s hand next (to ensure continued business). “Mr. Caelestis, always good to see you, sir.”
Dev nods. “Williams.”
Chaz furls his brow. “Your name is William Williams?”
“Yes, sir,” Williams says. “Cruel joke on my parents’ part. That’s why most people just call me Williams, as in William, plural.”
“Well, I’ll call you Bill, how about that?”
“Delighted,” Williams replies as he shakes Chaz’s hand. “I understand congratulations are in order, Mr. Ronaldi.”
“It’s Chaz, and thank you.”
Abe smiles upon seeing the scotch. “I see you’ve found our good stuff.”
“It’s amazing what money can buy,” Chaz says coyly. “Although I was only joking when I told your receptionist I could use a stiff scotch.”
“Oh, we never joke about scotch, sir.”
A mountain of paperwork is amassed establishing Williams, Goldberg, and Bloom as Trustees and exclusive firm handling the accounts of one Chaz Karl Ronaldi. Somewhere in the ether lies a single lottery payout belonging to the very same.
Finally, as Chaz and Dev are to embark on a multi-national trip, a Last Will and Testament is quickly executed. Since Chaz has no family to speak of and Dev is obviously not going to starve, contingencies are drawn up in the case of Chaz’s unlikely demise, which include an endowment to the Triad Airlines Memorial Fund; two scholarships in the names of his mother and (real) father; annuities to Human Rights Campaign and ASPCA; a tree of life at the US Naval Academy; and, of course, very healthy administrative, management, and legal fees for the firm of Williams, Goldberg, and Bloom, Esquires, as executors of Chaz’s estate.
It is an exhausting day, but the stars indeed seemed to align themselves for Chaz this week. His inadvertent scheduling accident giving away his trips provided Chaz with some much-needed time off. Time to reflect and think about how to proceed with his life and the changes he may need to consider. Since piloting an aircraft requires one hundred percent clarity, having a boatload of lottery-related issues vying for attention is not what any pilot should be worrying about. Yes, some time off from work is in order, and it is his duty to take it.
Once everything settles down, Chaz can get back to the business of flying, but for right now, only ten days mark the difference between being a lottery winner, and being a fully-funded lottery winner. With any luck, the law firm of Williams, Goldberg, and Bloom will keep Chaz as anonymous in the world as Dev seems to be.
In addition to leaving town for a while, the lawyers suggested another precaution to preserve Chaz’s privacy. This one involving the perpetually tired Neil Bloom, who is licensed to practice law in the state of California. As such, Bloom will be immediately dispatched to Los Angeles to make the lottery claim near the scene of the crime, so to speak.
Dev steps out of the room and quietly charters a Gulfstream to fly Bloom to LAX, while Chaz is busy signing paperwork. Bloom departs in three hours. A small but heavy fireproof box is brought into the room, into which the lottery ticket (now in a clear plastic sleeve) and Chaz’s legal documents are secured. A beefy plainclothes security guard in the firm’s employ will accompany Bloom on the flight and see that he, and the box, arrive at the lottery commission in Los Angeles safe and sound.
Before they knew it, it was time for Bloom (and guard) to head to the airport. A limo, sent by the charter service, arrives to pick them up. The senior partners and Dev and Chaz walk Bloom and the guard out. Bloom shakes their hands and assures them both all will be taken care of. Bloom also tells Chaz he will update him with any developments. The group watches as the limo pulls away.
“Wow,” Chaz says. “W-o-w.”
“Deep breath, Chaz, you’re doing fine,” Dev assures him, squeezing his upper arm affectionately. “What would you like to do next?”
“You know what?” Chaz says. “I just designated millions to various charities.”
“That you did.”
“I think I’d like to spend a little on myself.”
“You absolutely should.”
“If we are going on a trip, I want to buy some nice luggage that looks nothing like a crew bag.”
“I know just the place.” Dev smiles. “We’ll go to Lennox Square.”
Williams overhears this conversation. “Gentlemen, if you’re going shopping, then, please, allow me to provide you with the firm’s car and driver.”
Chaz disapproves. “That’s really not necessary.”
“Nonsense,” Williams quickly replies. “Our man Philip is trained in defensive driving and personal protection. Please, Chaz, I insist.”
“All right, Bill,” Chaz begrudgingly agrees. Williams pokes his head inside to have the receptionist call the driver. Chaz turns to Dev and comments, “They need me alive until they get control of the cash.”
�
��I heard that,” Williams says, triggering Chaz and Dev to start laughing.
Williams and Goldberg flank the entryway, while their favorite new clients depart in the firm’s Town Car. Like a scene out of Humphrey Bogart, the law partners watch the car drive off and agree, this is the start of a beautiful financial relationship.
Dev recognizes the driver as the same man who drove him and the lawyers from the police station during the attempted mugging situation.
“Gentlemen,” the driver says, glancing in the rearview mirror, “my name is Philip. My instructions are to take you wherever you want to go and then make sure you get home safely.”
“Thank you, Philip. I’m Chaz, and this is Dev.”
“Yes, sir. Where can I take you?”
“I don’t know about you, Dev, but I’m ready for another scotch.”
“Perfect idea.”
“Philip? Let’s start with Mastro’s.”
“Mastro’s it is, sir.”
Mastro’s bartender, in Chaz’s opinion, pours just about the most perfect drink in the world. The glasses are the proper weight and heft. There is a solid balance between the circumference of the glass, its thickness, and its depth. The ice cubes are the perfect size and crystal clear. The pour is freehand, and a little on the heavy side. They already started with Johnny Walker Blue, and Chaz has never ordered anything that expensive before, so why not go for broke? The bartender serves the two glasses with the elegance and respect the fine scotch deserves.
“Cheers,” Chaz says, holding up his glass.
They tap their glasses together.
“So . . .” Chaz says. “Where should we go first, until all this . . . stuff is taken care of?”
“Oh no, this is your day. Where would you like to go?”
“Somewhere far away.” Chaz leans in toward Dev. “Ever been to Australia?”
Dev replies optimistically, “Never.”
“I’m going to call and get us two first-class seats to Sydney.”
Dev speaks discreetly. “Probably shouldn’t use your airline.”
“Oh, yeah, low profile.”
“I’ve got this.” Dev says, with a devious smile.
The bartender returns before them. “Gentlemen, will you be having lunch with us today?”
Chaz holds up his glass. “We’re having it.”
The bartender likes Chaz’s style. “Excellent choice.”
While Chaz excused himself to go to the rest room, Dev contacted the charter company. He is able to book their ‘get away’ in a matter of minutes.
In the restroom, Chaz washes his hands and then stares at himself in the mirror. Whether it is the alcohol or the incredible event —or both— his face is flushed. He splashes some cold water on his face and takes a deep breath. Wow. This is real.
Returning to the bar, Dev is just hanging up the phone. “We’re all set. We leave tomorrow.”
“What airline?”
“Airline?”
“Oh you didn’t . . .” Chaz waits for Dev to flinch. He doesn’t. “Are you serious? We’re taking the BBJ?”
“Wheels up at noon.”
Chaz is all smiles and is just amazed. The notion that Dev would up and drop how many thousands of dollars—make then tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars— to go to Australia on the spur of the moment is just staggering. Is this what wealth is like? Chaz wonders.
“Well, guess we better go shopping.” Chaz says.
Chapter 14
Seeing Stars
New South Wales,
Australia
The route of flight went from Atlanta to Honolulu for refueling, then on to Sydney. The twenty-three hour flight passed quickly, as if time spent in an airborne resort. Flight attendants Franz and Annette made the voyage exquisite. Captain Steve provided his usual professional care, keeping airline pilot Chaz informed on a respectful level, as a peer, not just a client, providing the details that only a fellow flier would appreciate.
The days in Sydney passed just as quickly. The first week was spent doing all the touristy things. The last few days are more relaxed and free of any sort of schedule.
Dev and Chaz spend a lazy morning in Bondi Beach. After walking around Bondi visiting all the little shops and galleries, they lie out on a grassy knoll just off the sands of the beach, listening to the surf. Chaz rolls over toward Dev and smiles. “I could live here.”
Dev laughs. “You always say that.”
Chaz hears his phone make a sound. He looks at the screen and sees a text message. “It’s from Bloom. It says party time.”
“What time is it in Atlanta?”
Chaz looks at his watch and does a quick calculation. “Just past midnight at home. But I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Has it been ten days?” Chaz says. “I’ve lost track.”
“One way to find out.”
Chaz continues, “Bloom must have stayed up to make sure the transaction went into effect. You can tell this guy’s on the payroll.” Chaz sits up and selects the banking app on his iPhone and enters his passcode. He waits for the page to load, and there it is . . . “Holy shit.”
“What?” Dev says anxiously, sitting himself up.
Chaz looks around, to make sure no one is in earshot. He starts breathing irregularly. “My balance . . . my balance . . .”
“Deep breath, Chaz.”
Chaz nods rapidly and forces himself to take a deep breath before answering. “My balance has increased . . . by two hundred twenty-seven million . . . dollars.” Chaz is not quite hyperventilating, but close. He doesn’t say another word. He just looks at Dev and then slowly embraces him and squeezes him close and tight.
Dev whispers in Chaz’s ear, “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Dev.” Chaz is almost overcome with emotion. “Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for being so supportive.”
Dev speaks from the heart. “You’ve just been given a tremendous gift, Chaz. One that can change your life—one that can change other people’s lives.”
“Just promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“If I start acting like a snob, I want you to put me in my place, and do it swiftly. I don’t want to end up being a terrible person.”
“Don’t worry,” Dev says tenderly. “Abhorrent behavior is not something you need worry about.”
“Thank you, Dev,” Chaz says sincerely. “I defer to your judgment.”
“Eh, you give me too much credit.”
“Please!” Chaz says, “Okay . . . I’ve never once pried into your financial affairs.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I’m just curious . . . Are we at least close now on the financial map?”
Dev laughs. “You have two hundred twenty-seven million dollars in the bank, and you’re worried where you stand on the financial landscape? You’re a lunatic.”
Later that afternoon Chaz and Dev walk along the Sydney waterfront. Chaz happily ambles along with a slight smile and breezy attitude.
“So,” Dev says, “how does it feel?”
Chaz takes somewhat of a cleansing breath. “It feels . . . very liberating. I think it’s a good thing we are going to be traveling for a while, just to let it all settle in.”
“I think it will be like the BBJ. At first you were shocked at the extravagance, but by the time we were wheels up in Venice you seemed pretty relaxed.”
“Oh, please, if you’re not relaxed in a BBJ then there is something seriously wrong with you.”
“And I don’t think you minded this trip so much.”
“No, not so much.” Chaz smiles coyly.
Dev has a thought. “Hey, how come the final number is so much lower?”
“Well, the one-time payout was less, and then they take out for taxes.”
“Ah, okay,” Dev replies. “Well, at least you won’t starve.”
They chuckle at that statement. As they walk
along, Chaz is again captivated by the ease at which Dev conducts himself.
“What’s the key? How do you not let all this go to your head?”
Dev thinks about the answer before responding. “Money is just a tangible thing. A thing you can have. A thing you can lose. A thing you can give away. The key lies within the intangibility of yourself.” He continues with a sense of easy certainty, “It’s one thing to have the economic power to provide everything for everyone in your life, but you also need to consider what that could do to your relationships with them. You don’t want your friends to see you as a benefactor first and friend second, like what happened with your friend in Columbus, the one who died.”
“That still pisses me off,” Chaz says sharply. “Those assholes used him for his money and then forgot he ever existed.”
“You also don’t want your friends at home to become subservient, either.”
“The way your decorator acted.”
“That was a professional relationship. I was a source of cash in a time crunch. He delivered, but at a steep premium. Ideally, you should always get value for cost. No one should be taken advantage of.”
“Value for cost?” Chaz says. “That BBJ must cost between five and ten thousand dollars an hour.”
“It does. But the value in it is twofold: one, I love being able to share that with you; and two, I very much enjoy it myself. In a crowded and dangerous world like this one, it is nice to have solitude.”
“True,” Chaz says.
“And being able to chart one’s own course is important, and very appealing.”
“I understand.”
“As long as you stay true to yourself, Chaz, I think you’ll be fine.”
Chaz nods in agreement. “The other nagging question is, what do I do about my job?”
“Keep it, of course.”
“That was quick.”
“You love your job. Why would you give it up?”
“What if I become unreliable?”
“I don’t think that’s likely to happen,” Dev replies. “I don’t think there are any steadfast rules here; but where I come from, retirement comes late in life. If you can be a productive member of society, then that’s what you should do.”
