“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 boltfrom 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?”
Chapter 4
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.
Did I buy a one-hundred-acre plot of land in West Chester with an eight-thousand square foot stone house built in 1920 just because it came with a barn and plenty of space so my boys could run and live the life they should live? Absolutely. But it wasn’t just the barn that sold me. This “magnificent estate” (as the real estate dude put it) also came with two goats named Thelma and Louise and a flock of ducks that I’ve named The Quack Pack.
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. Theirfriends 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.
