Jackpot Summer, page 17
Noah felt like a fool. His sisters were not being similarly inundated. They’d had the good sense to change their mailing addresses to a P.O. box and create new email addresses. He was still using noahjacobson@gmail.com and his new address, the Archer house, was a click away for a modestly savvy person.
In the beginning, it was easier just to say yes.
He sent his ex a chunk of change in back rent and invested twenty grand in a high school buddy’s microbrewery business. Another thirty thousand he’d given to Joe, his exterminator pal, to launch a bug-identification app. But there were others that made him uneasy. He was simply unable to say no to anyone asking for money to help a sick child and it felt perverse to ask for proof the child was actually sick, even if it meant he was being swindled. There were acquaintances who crept out of the woodwork, not all with sob stories like a sick child, but he still felt uncomfortable turning them down. And some presented with business ideas that Noah believed had promise, the kind he could imagine all five entrepreneurs competing for on Shark Tank. A peanut butter jar that opens from both ends, anyone? But more often than not, he heard nothing from these inventors and start-up folks after he sent the check, not that he was all that on top of following up.
He longed to do something worthwhile. To discover in the piles of mail a truly deserving person whose life he could meaningfully improve. Until that happened, he was glad to rediscover the joy of sex, the need for which now seized his body like a riptide. The hostess who made eyes with him reminded Noah of his before life—when he was just a good-looking guy who, despite having no stable income or personal property in excess of $500, could entice a woman to his bed with his looks and charm alone.
Sophie insisted on ordering the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, even though Noah preferred beer and their father rarely drank (though the wineglasses on the balcony told a different story). After they each had a full glass of a dry red (the menu’s description; Noah didn’t understand how a liquid could be dry), Sophie’s face grew serious.
“Dad, can we ask you something?” she said, setting down her fork. We? Noah and Sophie hadn’t discussed anything. Maybe she was coming to see things his way. It was one thing to move to Florida and take up pickleball, but it was quite another to become the man whore of Boca Breezes without a single picture of his late wife on display. “It’s serious.”
“What’s going on?” Leo looked up from his plate. Laura would not have approved of the fatty prime rib.
“Are you upset with us for not cutting Matthew in?”
“Is that why you’re really here?” Leo set his cutlery down in an X across his plate.
“Of course not!” Noah said and glared at Sophie. She was ruining what was supposed to be a special night.
The impetus for their trip was to present their father with a new car, specifically a two-door Bentley Continental GT, retailing for $289,000. Leo was getting around on the BBB, the Boca Breezes Bus, a free transport service that took condo residents around the sprawling property and to the medical complex twenty minutes away. He claimed to have no need for wheels of his own, but they couldn’t think of a single other extravagance to shower on him.
Leo wiped the corners of his mouth with the edges of a cloth napkin. Noah wondered if he was going to get up and leave.
“No, I’m not upset.”
“Phew!” Visibly relieved, Sophie dug her knife into the butter dish and slathered a healthy dose on a roll.
“Hang on,” Leo said, holding up a hand. “I’m not done. Matthew and Beth are very successful. They work hard and enjoy a nice lifestyle as a result. And it was their decision not to go in on the lottery. Adults need to own their decisions. You might be doing them a favor anyway. Who’s to say they’d be any happier with more money? You’ve only been rich for three months. Let’s see what happens over time.”
In his lifetime, Leo had seen fortunes, modest compared to theirs, rise and fall. Noah recalled their father’s first words after they told him the news. Holy hell. Had Stanley really fallen off the ladder? Yes, he had, they had all heard the crash. But it seemed as though Leo’s reaction might have been the same regardless.
“You’re not children anymore. You’re fully grown adults. It’s not for me to tell you what to do with your money. Or your lives.”
At Beth David Memorial Park in Kenilworth, New Jersey, their mother had to be rolling over in her grave. Noah felt himself getting angry. When had his father done much parenting anyway? Leo was a backseat parent for as long as Noah could remember, and now, when they needed his assurance and guidance, he was throwing up his hands?
“These are on the house,” the hostess said, appearing at their table with a tray of desserts. She set down a slice of key lime pie, a wedge of cherry cheesecake and a chocolate mousse. “I recommend the mousse. It’s very silky.”
“Thank you…Becky,” Noah said, leaning over to read her name tag. An hour later, he discovered that Becky’s panties were even silkier than the mousse. After two enthusiastic rounds of sex at her condo, Noah lay in bed with his head resting on Becky’s bare navel.
“I think my father really liked the car,” he said.
The Bentley had been waiting outside Fresco’s with a giant red bow wrapped around the front hood.
“That’s some ride,” Leo had said with a nod of masculine admiration, walking past it toward the BBB stop.
“It’s yours,” Noah said.
For a man who didn’t covet material things, Leo sure came around in the moment. The evening ended on a bright note, Leo revving the engine and lapping the parking lot twice before driving back to Tower Four.
“Who wouldn’t? It’s a hot car. Not to mention expensive as hell.” Becky ran a hand through Noah’s hair and pressed gently on his temples with her fingertips. His body relaxed into a familiar post-coital bliss.
“So about that car,” he said. “My siblings and I kind of won the lottery. In case you were wondering.”
“No way! For real? What’s it like being a lottery winner?” Becky shot up in bed.
Noah found himself eager to speak candidly with someone out of his everyday orbit. At the shore, he was famous. He couldn’t walk into the Holiday Snack Bar or fill up his bike tires with air at the gas station without being gawked at.
“It’s not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
Noah turned toward her. Without layers of makeup, most of which had faded during their romp, she was refreshingly pretty. “I guess my siblings seem to be handling it much better than me. My sister Laura and her husband bought a new house, joined a golf club and are traveling around the world. They’re in Japan right now at some seven-star hotel. My sister Sophie, the one from dinner tonight, quit her job teaching and is painting full-time, which was her dream. I’m the only one who’s sort of—”
“Floundering?” Becky suggested.
“Exactly!” That’s precisely what he was and probably always had been. Even at summer camp, where the kids were grouped by age into the Snappers, Lobsters, Flounders and Starfish, Noah was a Flounder twice because he’d had to repeat kindergarten.
“You wouldn’t believe the crazy letters and emails I get. I even had a guy camp out outside my house.”
“What do these people want?”
“Money, what do you think? They all have some story. They claim we’re long-lost relatives and my great-great-great-great-grandfather cheated their ancestor back in the old country. That they need money for their kid’s cancer treatment, only I can’t pay the hospital directly, I have to send the money to them. That they have an amazing business idea and I can triple my winnings within a year if I invest.”
“God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry you’re going through that.” Becky gently stroked the line of his jaw, which unclenched with her touch.
“Let’s talk about you,” Noah said. “How’s working at Boca Breezes?”
“You mean Happy Endings?” She flashed a naughty grin.
It took Noah a minute to process the double meaning. When he did, all he could say was, “Yikes.”
“The old people are a hoot. It’s like watching a geriatric soap opera. The ladies cat fight about cards and are crazy competitive at tennis. The old dudes gripe about back pain and building assessments. The condo president was just caught embezzling from the lobby renovation fund, so that was a whole to-do. And don’t get me started on the hookup drama. There was a recent chlamydia outbreak among the resi—”
Noah didn’t need any more details. “Want to go for a walk?” He was headed home the next day and wanted to soak up the warm weather. Though maybe he’d be back soon. He liked Becky.
“A walk sounds great. Let me throw some clothes on.” She walked to the bathroom, giving Noah a chance to admire her curves. She was shaped like a violin and was a hell of a lot more fun to play. He thought back to the lessons his mother arranged for him when he was about twelve. His older siblings were out of the house and she wanted him to have hobbies to fend off loneliness. She’d let him quit after a month when he demonstrated zero willingness to practice. The same went for Little League, Boy Scouts and surfing. The moment he complained, Sylvia let him beg off. His siblings lamented that their mother had been much harder on them, but was Noah really lucky? They all had their lives together and he was “floundering.”
He lay on his back and shimmied into his jeans. The good wine, the sex and the unburdening had paid off. He was definitely in a better place than when he arrived in Boca.
Becky’s phone dinged.
“Your phone,” he called out, but she didn’t hear him over the flushing toilet. He fished it out from the mess of covers. The screen lit up with a text message from someone called “My Boo.”
How’s it going with lotto dude? Did you tell him about our biz idea yet? Waiting up for u, sexy girl.
“Ready!” Becky emerged from the bathroom. Noah was already on his feet.
“I gotta get going,” he managed to choke out, brushing past Becky and finding his way to the street outside her building. His father had driven off with Sophie in the Bentley. There was no BBB stop in sight.
He was stranded. Rich, alone and stranded.
* * *
—
“Last call. Dude, can you hear me? I said, it’s last call.”
Noah picked up his head and touched a hand to his forehead. A sticky peanut fell off. His gaze narrowed in on a bartender wiping down a counter with a wet rag.
“I’ll have another,” he said, lifting his empty glass, unsure what it had been filled with.
“You sure?”
Noah nodded.
The bartender ambled over and poured him a finger of whiskey. “You gonna get home okay?”
Noah swung his head around and surveyed the empty bar. He wondered if he’d be allowed to sleep in one of the banquettes.
As if reading his mind, the man behind the bar said, “You’re not staying here. But I can call you a taxi. You have money?”
Did he have money? Ha!
“I got millions, my brother,” Noah said. He pulled out his wallet to prove it, but the cards and cash spilled out and dropped to the floor, landing in a puddle of beer. Trying to stand up from the barstool was trickier than expected, and Noah found himself splayed out alongside the contents of his wallet.
“Let’s get you into a cab,” the bartender said, extending a hand to pull him up. “You want some coffee first? I was gonna make myself a cup before I close up. I’m Dan, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Dan. I’m Noah.”
Dan took the whiskey glass and dumped it in the sink while Noah slumped into a more stable seat at a table.
“I know your name. You announced your name after you bought a round for everyone in the bar. Asked a few ladies if they would ever love you for the real you too. You’ve had a rough night. Let me get that coffee and call you a cab. Be right back.” Dan disappeared through the barn doors leading to the kitchen and Noah pulled out his phone.
It was after one a.m. Noah scrolled past the text messages he’d ignored over the past several hours, stopping only to read the one from Laura.
Greetings from Tokyo. I need a clearer pic of Dad’s meds. I don’t recognize the blue bottle and need to know what he’s taking.
It was a sobering text, literally. Noah felt his surroundings come into focus, and with that, the reminder of just how shitty everything was.
Will do, he texted back and included a picture of Leo in the Bentley convertible from earlier. “Gift went over great.”
“Your ride’s here.” Dan reemerged as a flashing pair of headlights gleamed from the parking lot. “Let me walk you out.”
Dan helped Noah stand, again, and handed him a warm cup of coffee in a to-go cup. Outside, he opened the cab door and eased Noah into the back seat. Noah muttered, “Boca Breezes—Tower Three,” to the driver. “No, Tower Four. Shit, I don’t know. Just get me close, please.”
“Take it easy, alright?” Dan said. As he started to retreat, Noah rolled down his window.
“Hey, come back,” Noah called out. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “Take this. Actually, take two.”
Dan waved him off. “Buddy, some people just want to help.”
Dan turned his back and walked toward the bar’s entrance, where a partially burned-out neon sign read “For Old Times’ Sake Pub.” Sake. Like saké? Why was he thinking about Japanese wine? Laura was there. With Doug. Greetings from Tokyo. He was so tired.
Noah was still exhausted when Sophie interrogated him the next morning across the kitchen table. Their father was out with the “gentlemen’s walking club,” a group of men who gathered thrice weekly for a leisurely stroll to the Bagel Cove, where they sat and kibitzed for twice the amount of time they walked.
“So…how was your night with sexy waitress lady? What did she serve? Any specials on the menu?”
His sister’s attempt to be cute was amplifying his hangover exponentially.
“None of your business,” he said. “Do you have any Advil? Actually, that reminds me, I need to send a clearer picture of Dad’s pills to Laura.”
“I do.” Sophie fished a travel packet of Advil from her tote bag and he swallowed three with a gulp of water.
Sophie followed Noah to their father’s bathroom. The pills were arranged more or less the way Noah had seen them the day before, but with a glass of water next to the sink, a good sign he was taking them.
Sophie checked her phone. “It’s only ten p.m. in Japan. Let’s FaceTime Laura and see how her trip is going. We can show her the bottles.”
“Good idea.” Noah dialed their sister.
Laura’s face filled the screen. She was all made up and wearing sparkly earrings that hurt Noah’s eyes. Very un-Laura. He was used to her soccer mom attire. “Hi, guys! How’s Florida? And Dad?”
“Dad is Bocatastic,” Sophie said, crowding Noah to fit her face in the camera frame. “He really loves it here. You know how he didn’t really have any friends when we were growing up? The only men he spoke to were Mom’s friends’ husbands? Here he’s, like, popular. How’s Japan?”
“Let me show you.” Laura flipped the lens so they could see the opulent restaurant where she and Doug were eating. Doug was speaking to the waiter in a curt voice that Noah didn’t associate with his brother-in-law: “No, we don’t want any more saké. Or caviar. Just the check. Please.”
Laura’s face reappeared. “We’re having a great time. This restaurant is really fancy so I shouldn’t stay on FaceTime long. Before I forget, Myrna called me about the card party fundraiser on LBI. She told me that it raised $75,000 the last time it was held, so I told her we’d each send $25k. Assume that works for you two?”
“Yep,” Sophie said.
Noah thumbs-upped.
“Great. I’ll get the wire info when I’m back. Show me Dad’s pills.”
Noah panned to the bathroom countertop.
“What’s the blue bottle? I can’t read the label.”
Noah lifted the bottle and enunciated each syllable. “Sil-de-na-fil. Looks like it was called in by a local doctor, Marshall Diamond.”
Laura’s features pinched together. “I think that’s what he took when his liver function was off. Shit. Why didn’t he tell me? I get that he didn’t want to bother me while I’m on vacation, but I’ve handled his medical stuff since Mom got sick. Hang on one sec. Doug is trying to tell me something.” Laura propped the phone in a way that gave Noah and Sophie a clear view of their table, where a sushi platter large enough to feed twenty and a hill of caviar lay on crushed ice. “Jesus,” Sophie muttered. “Those two are living large.”
Laura came back. “Guys, Dad’s liver is fine.”
“Phew,” Noah and Sophie said in unison.
“Hang on. Those pills are…well…they’re Viagra.”
Noah dropped the pill bottle, as if it contained their father’s actual erection and not just the means.
“Ewwwwww,” Sophie said.
Noah felt a pit forming in his already upset stomach. “The waitress I, uh, met yesterday, the one who works in Dad’s complex, said there was an STD outbreak recently among the residents. The staff calls the place Happy Endings.”
