I went into the office the following morning wearing casual clothes. My boss Verne saw me entering the office an hour after our normal start time. He looked at the way I was dressed and stopped his march towards the photocopier.
“Danny Peterson, have you forgotten the start time and dress code of this business?” he said, irritation thickly woven into his tone. “We are a bank, you know, not a surf shop. You can’t wear that get up to work.” My colleagues were popping their heads above their cubicle walls to see what was going on.
“Good morning, Mr Brown. Can we talk in your office?” I asked. A curious look wafted over his face as he weighed up getting his photocopies done over whatever bombshell I was about to drop on him.
“Ok, sure. Go and wait for me there, I have to get these copies made first.”
I sat down in the same chair that he’d interviewed me in just a few years ago, taking in the office decor, something I’d been too nervous to notice the first time I sat in there. On one side of his desk was a computer screen and keyboard. There was the typical banker’s lamp in the middle and on the other side were a pile of ledgers and files. On his credenza he had some framed photos of his wife and three kids. They looked like your typical South African family. The wall behind his massive executive chair was home to numerous framed diplomas and awards he’d received after working at the bank for the past 25 years.
He came in and closed the door behind him.
“Alright, young man. What’s going on with you?” he said, placing his wad of photocopies into a folder on his desk before sitting down and leaning back in his enormous chair, his arms folded.
“Well sir, I have won a large jackpot and I don’t need to work here anymore.”
“Really? What jackpot did you win?”
I told him about what had happened on the weekend and his bushy moustache widened across his face.
“You’re joking. You won three point eight million on a one-armed bandit machine? That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes sir. It was a huge jackpot from this special bank of machines that had been accumulating since the casino opened. I have my cheque right here.” I pulled it out of my pocket and placed it on the desk in front of him.
He surveyed the detail on the cheque and began shaking his head slowly from side to side. Bewilderment would be an appropriate word to describe the look on his face.
“Well, I’ll be darned, Danny. I have sat behind this desk in front of many wealthy men before, but none of them ever worked for me.” He handed me back my cheque. “So you’re packing it in right now, yes?”
“Uh, yes that’s right, Mr Brown. I thought I should come in and tell you in person though. I have appreciated your mentorship these past few years.”
He squinted at me thoughtfully for a moment and then said, “Well you know you are supposed to provide me with a letter of resignation and at least one calendar month’s notice, but I am guessing you aren’t going to be of much use to me on the work side for a month, so all I can say is congratulations on this amazing windfall. I can get my secretary to write up a standard resignation letter for you and you can just sign it.”
“Thank you, Mr Brown.”
“Oh, I think you can call me Verne from now on.” he smiled as he reached across the desk to shake my hand. “You’re hopefully going to be one of our blue chip clients going forward, so I may have to start calling you Mister Peterson from now on.” he laughed. “Have you given any thought on how you are going to use the money?”
“Well, I think I really need to chat with one of the financial planners before I make any foolish moves. Who do you recommend?” I asked.
“Definitely chat with Mary Steenkamp in the branch downstairs. She’s the top performer there and she’ll get you into the right funds. Are you going to buy some property?”
“I think so. My girlfriend has made an appointment to see some flats on the North end today, so maybe we’ll buy something jointly and see where it goes.”
He reclined back in his seat again, his index fingers pressing against his top lip as he thought about what to say next. I knew what it would be.
“Be very careful about buying property jointly.” he said. “If your relationship goes tits up it always gets messy, so just be 1000% sure about the girl before you sign anything. I am more than happy to give you advice if you need it.” It was amazing how his tone had changed from the time I walked into the office until now. He was warm and all the bossiness I had known over the past few years had vanished entirely. He spoke to me like I was one of his friends down at the golf club.
“You’re definitely going to need a good lawyer too,” he went on. “I’ll recommend you make an appointment to go and see one of the attorney’s on our panel.”
“I will, Verne.” I said as I stood up. We shook hands again and I strode out of his office for the last time, waving goodbye to the pile of journals and ledgers on his desk as I did. I think I heard him chuckle when I did that.
Downstairs in the branch I filled out a deposit slip and marvelled at how there were only two blocks unused in the amount section. The rotund old lady teller raised her eyebrows and beamed as I handed her the deposit slip, the wads of cash I had in my leather bag from the casino and of course my winnings cheque.
“Goodness me!” she exclaimed. “Are you putting this all into your current account? I think maybe we need to put it into a call account so that you can earn more interest immediately. The rates on current accounts are not so great. I’ll be right back.” She waddled off to the back of the banking hall with the cheque and cash held tightly in her hands.
About an hour later I had a new, genuine leather chequebook, a platinum ATM card and letter welcoming me to the bank’s private clientele level. I wouldn’t have to stand in any more queues or even come into the bank at all. Inside the leather chequebook was a number I could call during office hours and my own personal banker would deal with any financial things I needed doing. I was feeling very important as I walked into the coffee shop across the road from the branch and slid into the booth next to a beaming Jessie who had a very large chocolate milkshake in front of her.
“All sorted?” she asked. I showed her the shiny new patent leather chequebook and ATM card. “Ooh, swanky! I didn’t get that from my bank. They probably think my cheque’s gonna bounce.” She was chuckling.
“You don’t know the right people.” I said, motioning for the waitress who came over immediately. “Cappuccino for me, please. Double shot.”
“So, next stop is the car shop.” she said. “Daddy’s going to meet us there at 12pm. He went into work again today. I swear I’m going to have to force him out of that printshop with a crowbar.”
“I think you should just leave him be, Jess.” I said. “It will be really hard for him to just suddenly stop working. Sometimes work is what keeps people going. And he has friends there, I’m sure.”
She didn’t say anything but I could tell that she was thinking about the implications of having him sitting at home all the time, brooding about her departed mother, drinking whatever he could to dull that pain. Work was definitely a better option for him.
“Does he like his job?” I asked.
“I think so. He doesn’t talk about it all that much, but I have never heard him complain about it either. He gets paid a decent salary. I think.”
“I have no idea what my Dad makes.” I said, half telling the truth. I had seen one of his payslips left on the kitchen counter when I was young and remember wondering why we were still living on the shitty end of the beachfront. It hadn’t been too long after that when we moved out of the city, my parents buying their first home in their early forties.
“He’s a bit of a loner.” Jessie said. “Sometimes I wish he’d just clean himself up a bit and maybe go out on a date or something.”
“You want to fix him up with a wicked step mama? She’ll get a whiff of your money and the next thing you know there will be drama. Be careful what you wish for, Jess.”
“Geez, you know, you’re right. I never thought of that.” she took a long sip of her shake. “Being rich does have its downsides, hey?”
“Uh-huh. I know the story. I went to that snobby school outside of the city, remember. One of the guys I knew, Jimmy, had a Dad who worked overseas and his Mom was aways throwing these elaborate parties in their mansion on the beach that side. Total hedonists. It was like the Great Gatsby there, only with his mother being the thing that got passed around from party to party. Jimmy tried to off himself one time, but even then it didn’t seem to stop her from fucking everything that came through the mansion doors. I think she’d even screwed one or two of his friends when they slept over.”
“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph.” Jessie said, swirling her straw in the remnants of the enormous shake. “I can’t finish this. You want some?”
“Sure.” I took a long sip, watching her smile at me. “Mmmm, nice milkshake.”
In spite of all the current complications with her parents I could tell that she wanted her Dad to be happy. I had considered asking her if she thought about contacting her Mom now, but didn’t, just in case it struck a nerve. Some doors are best left unopened.
We finished up our drinks. Jessie paid for my cappuccino and on the way out she stopped by the door and surveyed the way the coffee shop had been laid out.
“I think I can do a better job than this.” she said as we walked out into the street. “They don’t seem to cater for the lunch time crowd. No meals, only sandwiches and pastries.”
The main car dealerships were about three streets away, so we set off in that direction, hand in hand, not a care in the world.
Tony Lombard was already at the Toyota dealership, sitting behind the wheel of an enormous Cressida talking to a salesman when we arrived. I thought they were the ugliest cars I had ever laid eyes on, but as he got out of it to greet us I could tell he was already sold on it. His face was a picture of excitement.
“Once a Toyota man, always a Toyota man.” he said. “Check this out, kids. This car has everything. Even air conditioning.”
“Daddy, it’s very nice, but don’t you think you’d like that 4×4 a little better?” Jessie was pointing towards a double cab that looked just like the one Marty McFly’s parents had gotten him at the end of Back To The Future. The salesman was saying that he could get the keys if Tony would like to look at it.
“Oh, I don’t know, Jess. Those are nice, but as soon as you get a truck you get people asking you to help them move things for free. I’ll pass on the 4×4, thanks.” I laughed at this, remembering my Dad having the exact same complaint when he got a company pickup once. He became the go to guy for people who needed shit moved from one place to another. Nobody on the South end ever offered to pay for petrol either.
Tony was looking at the chromed grill now. There was a lot of chrome on this Toyota.
“Let me take this one for a spin.” he said, smiling at Jessie. “You going to come with?”
“Absolutely.” she said. “Are you going to come with or have a look around, Danny?”
There was a BMW dealership across the road. “I’m going to have a look over there, Jess.” I said, pointing to the line of shiny new 3-series Beemers they had outside the dealership. She opened her eyes wide in mock approval, making a small O shape with her mouth and then giving me the finger and thumb OK sign as she got into the passenger side of the Cressida.
“Don’t go anywhere without me. Be right back!” she said. I smiled at them as Tony shifted the enormous Cressida into gear and slowly crept off the show room floor, the tyres squeaking on the tiles.
The idea of buying a luxury German sedan was the last thing on my mind. A friend of my parents had one and it was a snarling, ferocious looking beast. I much preferred the looks of the BMW’s to the Mercedes Benz cars. The Mercs of the day looked like old people’s cars whereas the Beemers had a sporty appeal, especially the newer 3-series E30’s. I walked across the road with my eyes fixed on a gleaming red two door coupe with a white interior and spoked alloy rims. It was very similar to the one my Mom’s friend had driven, except it had only 2 doors.
I walked around it a few times but nobody came to see if I needed assistance until I tried to open the driver’s door which was unsurprisingly locked. A tall, lanky man wearing a sports jacket came out of an office and walked in my direction.
“Can I help you?” he said, his face looking somewhat weary, like I was the one hundredth person he’d had to deal with that morning. He obviously didn’t think a kid like me was worth helping, but if I was going to try and open the car he better go and at least make sure I didn’t scratch the paint.
“I’d love to have a look inside this car.” I said.
“It’s the top of the line, 325iS. They just landed last week. This is the only one in the province at the moment. Are you in the market?” he asked, looking at my surf T-shirt and bright board shorts with a slight grin on his face, the kind that said he thought I was wasting his time but he’d humour me anyway.
“Kind of. I won some money at the casino.” I said, not looking his way.
His demeanour changed almost immediately. “Let me see if I can find the keys. The DP keeps them in his office.” He did a swift turn on his patent leather shoes and disappeared back inside the office area.
I continued to look all around the red Beemer. It felt surreal to think that I could buy this car. I could buy any of the cars in this dealership. I had the power to do that. If I was going to buy a car today, this would be the sort of car I wanted.
The salesman emerged again a few minutes later and I heard the doors of the Beemer unlock as the indicators flashed twice. He opened the door for me and I slid into the driver’s seat. It felt like I had just sat in a seat perfectly designed for me. Paul stood outside, leaning into the driver’s door.
“This model has the highest spec engine, a straight six, 2.5 litre, produces about 125kW of power. We’d love to get the M3 in South Africa but this is unfortunately the best we can get. For now. How much did you win at the casino?”
“Three point eight million.” I said, nonchalantly. I heard him whistle.
“Holy shit. Are you serious?”
“Yup. I just banked the cheque about an hour ago.” I said and showed him my counterfoil of the deposit slip. “This was my share. My girlfriend has the other half.” He looked totally astonished.
“Well sir, my name is Paul and I hope that we can sell you this motor car today. Would you like to take it for a test drive?”
“I do, but I am just going to wait for my girlfriend to get back from the Toyota dealership. She’s buying her Dad a new Cressida, so they’re test driving that now.”
“Not a problem. Can I get you something to drink while we wait? Maybe a Coke? Coffee?”
“I’m good thanks, Paul.” I said, my eyes still pouring over the exquisite dashboard and its seemingly endless array of buttons and dials. This was the car I wanted. No doubt about it.
Paul invited me into his office to see some brochures showing the various options for the 325iS. There were a few colours available, including dark grey, artic white and an audacious yellow, but they would all have to be ordered and then shipped from the factory. This was a limited edition car and they suspected it would go on to be a classic one day. I had no doubt that it would.
After a few more minutes of thumbing through seemingly endless brochures I saw Jessie and her Dad drive back into the Toyota dealership. I told Paul that I would bring her over to check out the 325iS once they were done with their deal on that side of the road.
“No problem. I will wait right here for you.” I could have sworn I heard him suck in some saliva as he got up to walk me out.
Tony was grinning, as was Jessie. They were going to buy the Cressida, for sure. In baby blue colour with matching leather interior. The guy who was dealing with the sale wanted to make a cash offer for Tony’s old Corolla which he could use as a holding deposit or, they would write him out a cheque while they waited for the paperwork on the new car to be done.
I hated to be the wet blanket and tell Jess that she would have to wait for the cheque from the casino to clear before she could write out any new cheques for things she wanted to buy, but somebody had to. She looked crestfallen that they couldn’t take the new car right away, but I said that it would only take a couple of weeks and maybe they could get a special clearance done on the casino cheque if they really wanted to get it in the next couple of days.
“Really? Can you do that?” she asked.
“Depends on your bank manager, but we do it all the time.” I replied. “They might baulk at the amount but I am sure there will be a way of getting enough money for the car out of your account, or some kind of short term bridging finance. I don’t think these dealers are going to let you just drive the car home right now until they’ve got their assurances that your cheque will clear.”
Her shoulders sagged.
Then I remembered something. The reporter from the newspaper. If she could get a story printed in the evening paper today then it was a foregone conclusion that the dealer would have no problem with taking a post-dated cheque and they could probably get Tony’s new car delivered tomorrow. No dealer would want to be the one to turn down a deal from a jackpot winner. I told Jessie my idea and her eyes lit up right away.
“Can I use your phone to make a call?” I asked the Toyota salesman.
“Sure, no problem. Follow me.” he said, leading me back to his desk and sliding the handset in front of me.
I fished inside my wallet and found the card with Eleanor McEvans number on it.
“Press zero for a dial tone.” said the salesman. I did and then dialled the number she had given me. It rang once.
“Hello, can I speak with Eleanor McEvans, please?”
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