Chapter 4 Move In Day
Move In Day
Jonah
Three months after my windfall and my life forever changed, I step out on a concrete driveway next to overflowing greenery.
Yogi and Rugger shove past me as they barrel out of the door of my brand new, fully-loaded Yukon.
“Home sweet home, boys! Go explore!” The pair of them take off like a bolt of lightning to sniff every square inch of their new home.
My siblings kept harping on me to get these dogs out of the city. They kept saying, “These dogs are for guarding animals, not tussling with your roommates in North Philly.” Well, here we are in the literal country, where we can stretch out and live like the wild men we are.
I moved everything yesterday by myself. It was pointless to hire movers when my entire life could fit inside one vehicle.
I was going to ask my roommates to help, but my family kept badgering me not to tell anyone.
Then the lawyer and tax attorney I hired repeated the same thing.
Just like Rafael said, this is a common mistake most winners face.
Their friends and family will ask for handouts repeatedly, and it’ll never stop.
Relationships will become strained because of it.
Feelings will get hurt. It totally sucks because I want to shout from the rooftops that I won half a billion dollars!
But Rafael and my lawyers are right, I guess. I don’t want anyone to resent me, so I’m keeping my mouth shut.
I left my roommates and simply said I was moving out. Then, I gave my old Jeep to Shirly, the homeless lady in my neighborhood. I stuck twenty grand with a note in the glove compartment for her. I hope she’s doing all right. She was always so nice.
Since my family was there when I found out, I couldn’t keep the secret from them, thank goodness.
So with the help of my lawyers, I set them each up with two million dollars and a trust for two million more when everyone turns forty-five.
Dad got the full four million right out the gate and officially retired from his corporate engineering job last week.
After begging and pleading, Rafael and Joaquín let me tell their moms about my windfall. Christina and Ana basically raised me. When I tried to set them up with money, they flat-out refused. I kept trying, but Joaquín said his mamá is too proud.
I’m gonna keep trying though. What else am I supposed to do with all this money?
My lawyers told me I couldn’t just have a lump sum sitting in a bank account.
It’s all like, invested now. I only get a certain amount each month, and I have to ask my finance guy before taking out anything over twenty grand.
And no one liked my idea about getting a yacht!
Where’s everyone’s sense of fun and adventure?
On the other hand, I’ve been thinking about that ten grand in casino chips I found in a Vegas cab a few years ago—the ten grand I blew in less than six months.
I didn’t spend it on bills or tuition or anything meaningful.
The sad reality is, I don’t even know what I spent it on.
I don’t want to make that same mistake again, so I’m listening to those smarter than me.
Trying to at least. It’s a struggle to find the balance between having fun with my money and not living up to my reputation as a fuckup.
I quit my job at Strip Tease, not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
It was too hard to keep my winnings a secret.
I almost spilled the beans about a dozen times.
Returning to work was different; not only did I have a massive secret, but every time I entered that private room or even walked past it, I remembered Professor Wilde.
I still have her panties—and they look so good wrapped around my hand when I stroke myself to the thought of her.
For the past few months I’ve been inundated with legal jargon and real estate stuff that I still don’t understand—all of it making me feel like I'm in over my head. I’ve been so busy with meetings that I haven’t been able to find her. She said to pretend what we did never happened, but I can’t.
“This is incredible, Jonah,” Joaquín says as he exits his own car and parks next to all the others. The warm summer breeze dances through his long, dark curls, he takes a deep breath of the invigorating, fresh country air.
Joaquín lives in DC and splits his time between there and Philly. He’s a project manager for the company he runs with Rafael. They own, renovate, and lease apartments and homes. He’s always busy, but he’s never too busy for me.
We’re both free spirits, he and I. He’s a lot more calculated and was always the one helping me pass my classes, but he’s always down for an adventure and can shift gears on a dime.
Even with hundreds of miles between us, we’re still in sync with each other.
Ang is the same way with Raf. It must be a Johanssen/Jimenez thing.
We were inseparable growing up, and nothing changed after Joaquín came out as trans—we still went together like peanut butter and jelly.
My whole family is already inside my new house helping set things up. My sisters are going from room to room talking about paint colors. Dad is poking around in the utility room and inspecting the hot water heater. But no one has entered my secret room yet, and I’m itching to show it off.
I gather everyone and take them to the finished basement with a smile a mile wide. With my hand on the door handle, I turn around to speak as everyone waits. “I know you all said I had to be smart with my money and not spend it all willy-nilly, but...”
“Jonah,” Raf says. “What did you do?”
“You wouldn’t let me get a yacht, so what else am I supposed to do out here all by myself?
” I fling open the frosted glass door to reveal a soundproof room filled with instruments: my old drums with some fresh additions, a keyboard, bass, violin, and trumpet, electric and acoustic guitars, microphones, amps, the works.
With a surprised “Whoa,” Joaquín jumps past everyone, eager to get to the keyboard. “This is awesome!”
I scramble for my stool behind the drums and throw my hands out. “C’mon, Raf. You can’t be mad. I already owned half of this. I just filled in the missing pieces.” Even Dane and Isaiah are cracking smiles when they each find their respective instruments.
Raf stares at me. “You did not have an entire recording studio, and this house was not listed with one.”
Joaquín plays the opening from "Get Down On It” by Kool they really were meant for a country life like this.
When we get back to the house, I notice a woman walking across the street with two young kids, each holding something. When they get closer and step onto my driveway, I walk toward them as the rest of my family heads into the house.
The woman is wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail except for the long curtain-like bangs framing her face. All at once I register her striking red mane and the curves of the woman I’ve been spanking it to since college.
Professor Wilde is standing in my driveway.
When she realizes who I am, she stops in her tracks and forces the two young girls on either side of her to stop as well.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I live here. I just bought this house.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“How? You’re a—” she peers down at the girls quickly before flinging a stern you-know-what-I’m-trying-to-say look.
I can’t tell her the real reason I can afford this place. I shrug and hope she doesn’t ask for more of an explanation. “What are you doing here?”
She sighs, but before she can answer, the taller of the two little girls hands me a plastic container.
“We’re your neighbors! My name is Delta. We live across the street.”
My mind flashes back to all the times Professor Wilde mentioned her daughters in class.
God, they’re the spitting image of her—the same freckles, the same nose, the same eyes.
And that hair... same vibrant shade, but the smaller one, maybe six-ish, has curls.
Delta, maybe nine, looks like she cut her own bangs, and they’re now awkwardly growing out.
She points to the little blue house with white shutters and a detached garage next door, maybe a rugby field’s length away. All the houses after hers are clustered together, and none of them has a yard bigger than a quarter acre.
My property dominates this end of the road. I can’t even see my nearest neighbors on the other side of my corner lot, their house hidden by hills and thick trees.
“Hi Delta. My name is Jonah.” I tip the container and examine it. “Did you make me cookies?”
“They’re no-bakes. That means you don’t put them in the oven. You scoop them onto the counter, but you can’t eat them right away because they’re too hot. We ate four from your batch, but we can make more—”
“That’s enough, sweetie,” Renée says, gently gripping her daughter’s shoulder.
“I love no-bakes. Thank you. And what’s your name?” I ask the smaller girl. “Did you help make these?”
She hides behind her mother in response.
“This is Lo. Short for Loretta,” Renée says in an uneven, borderline reluctant way.
“Well, I’m gonna eat every single one of these.”
“Do you wanna come over and see my new bike?” Delta asks.
“Heck yeah.”
“No,” Renée cuts in harshly. “We’re not gonna—he’s—no,” she stutters, as if she has too many thoughts and can’t decide which one to say, if at all. Which, same?
I can’t believe she’s standing right here—that she’s my new neighbor. The idea of a hot and heavy second round between us clicks into place like a slot machine hitting triple sevens.
Oh yeah. That’s happening.
If this isn’t the universe practically screaming that my former professor and I should roll around in the sheets, then I don’t know what is.
“You know,” I say with a smirk, “we should probably exchange numbers. Since we’re neighbors and all.” So I can text you dirty little things that’ll make you squirm, I think to myself.
“I don’t think so.”
Classic Renée Wilde. Denying my advances and making me hornier because of it. But the dial to my sexy professor craving has been turned up since our spicy private room in the club. I know what we’re capable of together.
And I will be having seconds.
“Who’s this?” Joaquín asks, walking up to join us.
“My new neighbors. Look, cookies!”
“Hi, I’m Joaquín.”
“Hi. We were just leaving,” Renée says, turning her girls away before heading toward the street. “It was nice meeting you both.”
Dumbfounded, I stand there watching the three of them walk down my driveway.
“You okay, Joner?”
I snap out of it. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.” We start back toward the house. “Remember that former professor I told you I hooked up with at Strip Tease? That’s her.”
Joaquín whips around to steal another look. “Really? Dude, you are punching up—and I don’t just mean in the age bracket. Ella es bonitaaaa.”
“Yo sé.”
“Think you’ll hook up again?”
Side by side we climb the stone porch stairs, and I clap him on the shoulder, grinning like a man with fate on his side. “That’s a sure bet.”