Chapter 3 A Fortunate Family Dinner
A Fortunate Family Dinner
Jonah
Only fifty-five minutes late, I enter my childhood house with dogs in tow and Renée on my mind.
I can’t shake it. Never in a million years did I think something like last night would happen between us.
I always wished and fantasized about her, though I never thought it would become a reality.
And after failing her class, I was sure I’d never see her again.
I was certain I dreamt the whole interaction last night at work, but before my post-work shower, I caught the scent she left on my fingers—an intoxicating reminder of just how real it was.
This never happened. She clarified that what we did would not be repeated.
I guess that’s fair. It’s usually how things go for me.
Women want Good Time Jonah, and I’m not saying that as a stripper.
They don’t keep me around for long because I’m easy and fun—I’m not serious boyfriend material.
I’m their stepping stone before they find the right person, or I’m their rebound, and I’m fine with that.
I’m almost twenty-five; I’m too young to settle down anyway.
Striding through the front door, I’m lost in thoughts of Renée’s freckles when I’m suddenly assaulted by my family whooping and hollering.
My brother-in-law Rafael pushes play on a speaker, and “Pony” by Ginuwine fills the house.
Then everyone’s up and pulling singles from their pockets to fling them at me.
I groan but can’t fight the smile. “Yeah, yeah...”
“Give us a show!” my baby sister Ivy yells.
“Wait,” I chuckle, pointing to my toddler twin niece and nephew. “I’m not allowed to swear in front of them, but I can strip?”
“No one’s stripping,” Isaiah grumbles, and he gets up from the table with three empty plates. Before he walks past me, he leans in close enough I can feel his thick beard against my ear. “You ever do that again, and I’ll dig the grave myself.”
I turn to Robyn. “You told him?”
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” she laughs. “Of course I told him. But let’s agree that will never happen again.”
My jacked soon-to-be brother-in-law, Dell, raises his hand. “Wait, I want a turn. My gran has been looking for a new class to teach at the senior center, and this might be perfect!”
Dell’s a personal trainer and has a physique like a bodybuilder. The man can bench 405. Maybe I can trade him lessons in stripping for personal training sessions...
Before I can ask, I’m being pulled into the galley kitchen by Dad and Angie. My newest nephew, Mateo is completely zonked out, strapped to her chest in a baby sling. I’m loading up my plate with the leftovers when I sense a disturbing silence.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Angie asks in that famous oldest sister tone.
She’s always digging into our brains, trying to figure us out, but sometimes it’s just not that deep.
Being a children’s therapist suits her. She’s spent the better part of her life raising all of us siblings, but she doesn’t need to worry about me anymore, despite what everyone else thinks.
I should give her something to chew on, though. She has a look in her eyes that tells me she’s going to root around until she uncovers something.
“You guys gave me so much crap for barely graduating college. I don’t know. I didn’t want to disappoint you even more.”
Dad crosses his arms and sighs. “Bud, we’re very proud of you for graduating college. We’d be even prouder if you’d use your degree in music, but if this is what you want to do, then do it.”
His encouraging words are an unexpected downpour, and I'm caught without an umbrella.
As familiar as Angie’s probing is, it’s the opposite for my dad.
Him showing this level of care and concern is foreign.
He grieved the loss of our mom for most of my life, so I’ve never really connected with him.
I was only three when my mom died, and while my dad was physically around, he wasn’t mentally.
But he’s been going to therapy—go Dad—and turned a new leaf in the last couple years.
He’s really come out of his shell, and I’m totally here for it.
“I mean,” I shrug, “dancing is fun.”
“As long as you enjoy it.” Angie smiles and hugs me from the side so as not to disturb the tiny sleeping infant. I sneak a solid whiff from the top of his head covered in wispy black strands.
Mmm… that’s nice.
My sister joins Robyn and Dell in the living room while I scarf down braised pork.
“You know,” Dad says, “utensils are available.”
I shrug. “No sense in dirtying extra dishes.”
My brother Dane joins us in the kitchen with Isaiah behind him. Dane is three years older than me and smack dab in the middle of the five Johanssen siblings. He’s built more like me than anyone else in the family.
Growing up, Dane and I stuck together most of the time, along with our buddy Joaquín, whose older brother is married to my sister, Angie.
We’re all very layered in each other’s lives like that.
Ivy was always trying to wiggle her way into hanging out with us, but in typical older sibling fashion, we ignored her a lot.
But she’s a fighter, that one. Now she’s training to be a midwife.
“So what’s going on with the team?” Dad asks. We all currently or formerly play for Philadelphia Men’s Rugby Team. Isaiah medically retired a little while ago, but Dane, myself, and Rafael still play.
Dane takes a sip of his beer. “We’re trying to level up from Division 1 to the Premier League,” he says.
I nearly choke. “We are?”
“Do you ever pay attention?” he asks. “There have been dozens of emails and team meetings about this.”
“I’m just joking,” I say, lying. “I know.”
Dad grins. “That’s great. Sounds like it’s gonna be a lot more work.”
“We definitely need to level up if we’re gonna make it happen,” Dane says.
“The team tried a few times in the last decade or so, but could never make it. This next season is gonna be crucial.” He pins me with the same blue eyes everyone in this family has, and his imaginary team captain hat in place.
“We’re gonna have to trim some fat and focus,” he says.
I flex my biceps. “I’m in great shape.”
Isaiah rolls his eyes. “He means the team will need to buckle down and get serious about winning.”
“Oh.”
“Actually show up to practice on time,” Dane says, blunt as ever.
A ruckus of laughter flows from the living room, catching my attention. I give my dad and brothers a salute as I make my way to see what’s so funny. “You can count on me!”
Later, everyone moves to the backyard, sitting on patio furniture while people coo over kids and dogs. Zo and Nico are climbing over one dog as Dane plucks hair clumps from another. There’s a quick buzz from my phone and I peek to find the group chat with my coworkers.
Robbie: Anyone’s life change forever last night?
Huh?
Dylan: Nope. Looks like we keep buying animal print G-strings and shaking our asses.
Oh, the Mega Millions. Duh.
“Does anyone know if the jackpot was hit last night?” I ask everyone, but no one’s paying attention. Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I lazily riffle through it until I find the folded paper and look up the winning numbers online.
03, 17, 32... I check my ticket and see the same first three numbers in the top grid, followed by the same numbers, 58 and 63.
No way...
I blink rapidly at the last number in the bottom grid, the single Mega Ball number. 10. Cool, that’s my rugby position.
I switch my focus back to my screen and zoom in on the bottom grid for the Mega Ball number.
10.
“Uh...” I mumble. Just a tiny blinking light is active in my brain right now. This can’t be real.
Rafael comes up to me and pats me on the back. “You okay, man? I haven’t seen you concentrate that hard... ever.”
I pass him the ticket and my phone. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing? This has to be fake, right?”
His brow furrows, but he scrutinizes each number. Raf is the smartest person I know. He’s a freaking chief financial officer. An officer of money! He’ll be able to—
“Ay, dios mío, Jonah,” he whispers. His eyes bug out when he faces me, the ticket pinched between his fingers. “Is this yours?”
“I bought it from my coworker last night.”
I’ve never seen Raf’s eyes wider than they are now when he hisses, “Jonah, you just won $540 million dollars.”
The next few minutes pass in a fog, all sound and mental wherewithal fading away, leaving me barely able to process what just happened. Rough hands shake my shoulders, and when I come to, I’m sitting on a patio chair with my entire family surrounding me.
“Did you hear what I said, Jonah?” Raf asks, kneeling in front of me so his eyes are level with mine.
I shake my head.
“I said, you cannot tell anyone outside of the family about this.”
“Why not? I just won the freaking lottery.”
“Because that’s how you’ll lose it all. While you were off in La-La Land just now, I did some cursory research, and everyone online says you should remain as anonymous as possible.
Previous winners say once family and friends find out, they come for your winnings, and you can lose relationships quickly if you ever turn off their cash flow. ”
“But I don’t need all of this. I can totally give everyone money.”
Angie stands. “He’s right, Jonah. It’s bad enough that all of us were here to find out.” She turns to everyone and pins each with a stern expression. “Absolutely no one here is ever going to ask Jonah for money. It’s not worth damaging our family.”
“Well, if I can’t give money to everyone, what am I supposed to do?” Just then, the best idea comes to mind. “I’m gonna buy a yacht!”
“No,” everyone says at various levels of frustration.
“First things first,” Raf sighs. “I’m setting you up with a financial advisor and a lawyer or two.”
“Why can’t you do it? You’re a money guy.”
“Because I’m your family, I’m already a CFO, and I’m not a lawyer. You need pros managing your assets.”
“What’s an asset?”
“Jesus Christ,” Dane mutters.
Dell takes a step forward, his insanely large arms crossed.
“Dude, as someone who comes from a lot of money, Rafael is right. You need to protect yourself.” Dell’s family owns Castle Whiskey, a huge, five-generation family brand based out of Kentucky.
I remember the day Isaiah told us his new boyfriend was not only loaded but came with a seemingly endless supply of great whiskey.
Now we’ve both hit the jackpot.
Dell turns to Raf. “I can give you the name of our lawyers and financial advisors. They’ve been with us forever.”
They chat, and everyone else joins in the conversation, making plans for me and discussing what this will mean, and what the best course of action is. There’s talk of non-disclosure agreements, and like always, I’m left out of the important conversations.
My hand itches to text my coworkers and tell them the news, but I stop myself. Maybe I could tell just one more person... They’re basically family anyway.
I dial Joaquín, who answers the phone on the second ring. “Joner Boner, what’s going on?”
Panic settles in all at once, and my face heats. The urge to spill everything threatens to escape. He would have found out if he had been here at family dinner anyway. And he’s here like half the time, so...
Dane clocks me as I hold the phone to my ear, his jaw tense. “Jonah, who are you talking to?”
He launches himself at me, but I’m quicker. I escape his grasp and run deeper into the backyard. The dogs bolt from their spots on the grass and chase me along with my brothers.
“Joaquín, I won the lottery,” I squeal, before I’m tackled to the ground by Isaiah. My dogs playfully attack my enormous brother, who’s trying to take the phone away from me.
“You what?” Joaquín exclaims.
Isaiah rips the phone from my hand and hurls it to Rafael. “Deal with that,” he snaps, then turns to me and smacks me hard in the chest. “We gave you one rule, dumbass—don’t tell anybody!”
He grunts as Yogi and Rugger lunge at him, trying to yank him back by his shirt. The sound of ripping cotton has him springing to his feet, but not before he lands one last hit on me.
Yogi and Rugger don’t let up their good-natured assault until Isaiah is five feet away and his T-shirt hangs in tatters. Dane steps in, redirecting them with that calming, veterinarian touch of his.
“But it was Joaquín,” I protest. “He’s family, and he’s my best friend. Do you honestly think we could’ve kept this from him?”
Dane sighs once the dogs settle. “He’s right,” he says to Isaiah. “You know how nosy he is. He would have figured it out.”
Isaiah’s answering harrumph is aggressive. “No one else, Jonah.”
I throw my hands up in surrender. “Okay.” I get up and dust myself off. “Can I still be a stripper?”