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CHAPTER 8 - Winner and Winners

January 11, 2015

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Kassi asked me.

I couldn’t stop fidgeting, and I could sense her growing annoyance. “Yeah, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” I said, hating myself each time I had to lie to her. I kept telling myself it was only for a little while, and the lies were only about the events that were about to play out.

“You’re driving me nuts,” she said in a pirate’s voice, which made me laugh.

“Arrrrh,” I answered, squinting one eye closed.

“Shouldn’t you be swabbing my deck, matey?” she asked in the pirate voice, throwing the sheets back and spreading her legs.

“Arrrrh,” I answered again, and scooted down the bed to do as she’d ordered.

Just as my lips touched her, my phone rang. I felt my heart nearly leap out of my chest. I started shaking uncontrollably and almost nipped her skin with my teeth before I could get my head from between her legs. It was getting hard to breath. I tried to calm myself as the phone rang a third time.

“Are you going to swab me deck, or answer the phone?” she asked in her Blackbeard voice, which normally would have had me laughing again, but I couldn’t even crack a smile. “Tyler? Tyler?”

She snapped her fingers in front of my eyes, and I finally found a thread of sanity. I jumped off the bed and ran for the dresser. A picture of my mom and her phone number was on the screen. The ringer bleated again, and I nearly dropped the phone. I hit the answer button.

“Huh-hu-hello?” I stuttered, shaking as if I were standing in the middle of an ice storm.

“Tyler? Tyler you have to come home right now!” Mom shouted into the phone. I couldn’t tell if she was happy excited, or terrified excited.

“Why? What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked, afraid she was going to tell me that my winning lottery ticket was bunk, and because I messed with the flow of time, my father had been stricken with a fatal stroke as punishment.

“Oh my God, Tyler. Please. Come home. Put your clothes back on and get here. Now!”

“Mom,” I said, trying to sound calm myself, “calm down. What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”

I couldn’t help picturing my father on the floor, his face twisted into a mask of pain that had frozen in death. I also couldn’t help flush from embarrassment that my mother somehow knew exactly what I’d been up to, or had been about to be up to.

“The ticket…” she trailed off.

I could hear my father in the background making noise, but I couldn’t decipher what he was saying, or if he was just shouting. I collapsed onto the bed in relief, Kassi putting her arms around my middle as I held the phone to my ear.

“Okay, Mom. We’ll be home as soon as we can get there.”

I felt like I should say more, but I ended the call before my mouth could get me in trouble. I dropped the phone on the floor and fell over on my side, dragging Kassi with me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her lips near my ear. “What happened?”

“We need to get dressed and go to my house.”

“Tyler, what’s the matter? Did something happen to your dad?”

“Something,” I said, reaching over the edge to grab my boxers and her panties from the floor. I unlatched her arms and stood up, tossing her underwear onto her chest. “Come on, let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and clutched her panties to her chest. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I think my parents just won the lottery,” I said, trying to get my pants on without my hands shaking too much.

“You’re kidding. You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I stopped struggling with my zipper and turned to face her. Suddenly, I couldn’t help but grin at her. I felt a wave of relief that I’d been wrong, that I
could
change the flow of time. Relief that no matter what happened, money would never be a worry. “I don’t think so,” I said again, this time sitting on the bed next to her and hugging her. I could feel tears threatening to fall from my eyes, and I quickly let go and stood up. “I don’t think so,” I repeated a third time.

“Holy shit!” she yelled, springing from the bed and wrapping herself around me. “Please tell me you aren’t fucking with me.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I couldn’t seem to say anything else. What else was there to say?

*****

February 7, 2015

I hung up the phone and looked back at the screen. My mom had just let me know they’d landed in St. Johns, and that she’d call me again when they got settled into the hotel downtown. Kassi was still in her Creative Writing class, which gave me two hours to get the next phase of my plan going. I touched the ninth icon on the projected screen, and the real-time stock ticker began to scroll across the top, the rest of the screen blank except for the search box. I wondered about the “real time” thing, since it was supposed to be looking at stocks on future dates. The stock symbols all had hyphens next to their names instead of prices, the app unable to pull data without a time frame.

I typed in February 10, 2015 and hit enter on the virtual keyboard. Monday’s closing market report appeared on screen, the scroll bar growing smaller as more data filled it. I looked at the biggest market-opening changes, and spent the next thirty minutes plotting which of the “winners” I would be working with, noting down to the minute their prices, comparing them to today’s closing price. I found six that had excellent gains between an hour from now when the markets closed for the weekend, and Monday’s market closing.

On the right screen extension, I used the normal browser to login to my Fidelity account. Within fifteen minutes, I had purchased just over one hundred thousand dollars worth of stocks. I looked at the graphs on the center screen again, noting the times on Monday when those stocks would be at their peak, writing down the time in my notebook next to each stock symbol. If my trusty little computer wasn’t bullshitting me, something it hadn’t done yet, by the time the bell rang on Monday, my hundred thousand dollar investment would become a two million dollar return.

I looked at my phone, and realized I only had another ten minutes before trading was suspended until Monday. On the center screen, I called up the biggest losers in the same time period, chose four at random, and spent another hundred thousand. I prayed that I knew what the fuck I was doing, and that some SEC computer wasn’t tracking every trade I made, raising red flags and setting off alarms. I wondered if the SEC enforcement officers would show up with a SWAT team and kick in my door, or if they’d wait until I wandered to the store and have three suits surround me and take me into custody.

“Computer, power off.”

The screen blanked out, the projection disappearing, then the ghostly blue light winked out. I unplugged the power cell from the wall and took the case to my closet. I left the monitor on the desk for a few minutes, then decided it was too tempting, and put it in the closet as well. I checked my phone again, noting that Kassi would be done with class in half an hour. I threw on my favorite hoodie and grabbed the keys to my dad’s new Mercedes.

On the drive to campus, I listened to NPR, but my brain paid no attention to the voices. So far, my parents hadn’t flipped out and gone too wild. Dad’s new Mercedes was a bit of a splash in the neighborhood, but Mom still had her four year old Camry. I don’t think reality had set in with her yet, though if the white sandy beaches and chiseled, tanned cabana boys couldn’t convince her, nothing would. I wanted the new Dodge Challenger, the top of the line muscle car version, but I’d held off buying anything other that a few odds and ends, and a shitload of stocks.

My parents hadn’t quit their jobs, but they’d been able to take a month-long leave of absence. They’d talked endlessly about quitting their jobs and traveling, especially now that I was in college and able to take care of myself. The few times I’d been in on the conversation, I’d preached moderation, telling them to just take it easy for now, keep their jobs, and think about the long-term. Have a plan before doing anything rash. The first time I’d said this, both of them nearly fell out of their chairs. My mother told me that it was the most adult thing she’d ever heard me say, and my father told me it was the first time since I’d been born that I’d made him feel like a stupid child instead of the other way around. I just laughed and warned them about the whole power and responsibility thing.

I pulled up to the curb. Kassi had texted me just as I was coming on campus to let me know she was waiting. She nearly ran from the building to the car, whether from excitement or because it was cold enough to freeze the snot in her nose, I wasn’t sure.

“Hey, baby, nice car,” she said with a leering grin, pretending to be a prostitute.

“You know it,” I said after kissing her on the cheek. “How much for the night?”

“You’re not a cop, are you?”

“You do know that cops are allowed to lie about that, don’t you?” I asked with a frown.

“Tyler, you need to learn how to role-play a little better,” she said, then giggled when I huffed and pulled away from the curb.

“Your place or mine?” I asked, knowing we’d already planned on having sex in every single room of my house other than my parents’ room. I was a little deviant, but not that deviant. Thankfully, neither was Kass.

“Hey,” she said, her leering grin back. “You want a blowjob on the way home?”

I felt my face burning hot enough for the skin to melt off. Kassi laughed at me, then teased me by trailing her fingers down the inside of my thigh. I almost stomped on the gas pedal, which made her laugh even harder.

“You’re such a prude, Tyler,” she said, leaning back in her seat.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my face still burning up. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that my face was so red it was almost purple.

“Don’t be sorry. Take what is offered.”

“It’s my dad’s car…”

“God, Tyler. You get embarrassed about things like
blowjobs
so easily. You don’t get embarrassed about getting a
blowjob
when I do it in bed. What is it about getting a
blowjob
in the car that embarrasses you much?”

I wished she’d stop saying the word, as each time she said it, I felt myself cringe in shame. I wasn’t a prude, usually, but she still scared the hell out of me sometimes. I was growing to like her forward, aggressive nature, but it was slow going. The girl could mess me up inside whenever she wanted, and she did it as often as she could get away with it. It only secured the knowledge that I was madly in love with her.

“I’ll let you uh… blow me in the car one day,” I said, not even able to get the sentence out without my voice cracking.

“‘I’ll let you uh… blow me in the car one day,’” she mocked, her voice almost as deep as mine. When I grimaced, she burst into laughter again and reached over to give my thigh a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” she said.

I nearly drove off the road, and if she’d been driving, she probably would have as well. I don’t think she meant to say it, judging by the surprised look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her face now a brighter red than mine.

I smiled, trying to look at her and the road at the same time, not wanting to explain to my father that his brand new Mercedes was in the shop with a mashed-up front end. “Don’t be.”

“I don’t want you to think I love you for your money,” she blurted out, her face darkening into purple. I now knew what I looked like whenever I said things that I thought were ridiculous.

I didn’t say anything as I looked for a place to turn into. I saw a strip mall to the right and got into the turn lane, then drove around the parking lot until I found a spot that had nothing but empty spaces on either side. I finally understood why pretentious assholes in expensive cars would park half a city away in the middle of nowhere. I put the Mercedes in park, but left it running to keep the heat going. I turned in my seat to face her, and held her left hand in both of mine.

“Kass,” I began, “we need to talk.”

She burst into tears before I could say anything else. I wasn’t prepared for it, and forgot whatever it was that I was going to say.

“Don’t you dare do this to me!” she cried, reaching for the door handle with one hand, ripping her other out of my grip.

“Wait. Wait! What the hell? Let go of the door, Kass,” I said, my voice no longer cracking with embarrassment.

She looked at me, defiance in her eyes mixed with what I thought might be a hateful fury. I grabbed her hand again.

“Listen, dumbass,” I said with a smile, “I’m not breaking up with you.” Her expression became confused. “We need to talk because I’ve been in love with you since Thanksgiving. Maybe before, I don’t know. I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to be that college puppy dog that follows you around everywhere.”

I thought she’d smile and hug me in happiness, but she began to cry harder.

“No, no, no, no,” I said. “No. It’s… why are you crying?”

“Because!”

I was confused now. “What? Because why?”

She didn’t answer, instead crashing her face into my chest, as awkward as it was with a center console and proper German safety restraints.