Burn

After work, though, she changed clothes and she and Michelle hit Bird’s, where she bought their drinks, they danced almost nonstop, and they laughed at everything and nothing. Happiness fizzed like ginger ale in her veins. She was young, and she was rich! How could life get any better? So what if she was spending most of her cash, and payday was still three days away? She had gas in the Goose, food in the house, and celebrating with Michelle was more important than worrying about money. In a few days, she’d never have to worry about money again.

Morning brought reality with it. Once again, there were calls she had to make and things she had to do.

Jenner took a deep breath and dialed a very important number. When the call was answered, she had to take a second deep breath. "I have the winning ticket," she said baldly. "What do I need to do?"

"Are you the sole ticket holder?" The man who had answered sounded almost disinterested. Maybe they got a lot of calls from people claiming to be the winner. Probably she was something like the fiftieth person to call. Grimly she imagined all those other people trying to claim her winnings. She could just see them sitting at home working on manufacturing a fake lottery ticket, trying to get it just right, hoping they could get the money and disappear before the real winner came forward.

"Yeah. Yes."

"You’ll need to bring in the winning ticket, of course, as well as a photo form of identification, and proof of your social security number – if not your actual card, then a pay stub, or something like that, that shows your number."

Jenner tried to think where her social security card might be, but she came up blank. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it. Maybe she could find one of her pay stubs, though. What on earth had she done with the last one? She began to panic. If she couldn’t find a pay stub, what would she do?

Wait until she got another paycheck, that’s what. The common-sense reply loosened the sudden tightness in her chest, let her breathe again. "Okay, what else?"

"That’s it. Ticket, identification, social security verification. When will you be coming in?"

"I don’t know." That depended on how long it took her to find a pay stub – if she could find one. "Tomorrow morning, probably. Definitely by Friday afternoon. Do I need to make an appointment?"

He gave a little laugh. "No, that isn’t necessary. Our office hours are from eight thirty to four thirty." He gave her the address, which was on the seventh floor of a building downtown, close to city hall. She’d never been to city hall, but she bet parking was a bitch. She’d be better off taking the bus, instead of driving.

After thanking the man and hanging up, she began tearing through her closet and old purses, looking for her social security card. She’d always been careless with it, because, hell, she had the number memorized, and it wasn’t as if she had anything anyone would want. Well, now she did have something millions of people would want, and she steadily swore under her breath at her own stupidity as she looked in every pocket of every old wallet she could find. She would never, ever again be so careless. If she ever found that damn card, it was going in the safe-deposit box, which she didn’t have yet, with the rest of the important stuff she didn’t have yet, but soon would.

Finally she gave up. The card was probably long gone, incinerated in some trash dump somewhere. She’d had it when she got her driver’s license, obviously, but renewing the license didn’t require one, so she hadn’t kept track of it – and she’d moved at least three times since getting her license.

That left a pay stub for proof. She didn’t keep her pay stubs, either. She usually either dropped them in her bag when she got her checks cashed, or put them in the Goose’s glove compartment. She didn’t let the Goose get filled with clutter, because the poor thing looked bad enough as it was, but she couldn’t remember when she’d last gathered up all the pieces of paper that seemed to accumulate.

She hurried outside, unlocked the passenger door, and leaned in to open the compartment. Napkins from fast-food places practically exploded outward, along with ketchup squirt-packs, little salt and pepper packets, drinking straws, melted peppermints, gum – and two crumpled pay stubs. Jenner grabbed them, closing her eyes as she held them to her chest and sent a silent thank-you upward in case God was listening or something.

She took all of the debris and the pay stubs inside, where she carefully stored one of the stubs in her purse with the ticket. Then she took a pair of scissors and carefully cut the remaining pay stub into tiny bits, which she flushed down the toilet. From now on, she had to be careful with every bit of paperwork.

She checked the time: almost noon. She didn’t have enough time now to get downtown and back before going to work, and something in her still wouldn’t let her blow off her job. Maybe next week, she thought. Duh! She’d better find out how long it would take to actually get the money, because she had to live until then.

She grabbed the phone and hit Redial. When the same guy answered, she asked, "I called a little while ago. After I bring in the winning ticket, how long does it take to actually get the money?"

"Four to eight weeks," he replied.

"Holy sh – ! You’re kidding." She was flabbergasted. Damn good thing she hadn’t quit work yesterday!

"No, processing the claims are time-consuming, but we take pains that no mistakes are made."

"Thanks," she said, hanging up. She wanted to kick something. Eight weeks! She couldn’t even wait eight weeks to claim it, because the processing wouldn’t start until she did so. The sooner she got to the office, the better – and then she’d still have to work at that damn meat-packing plant for maybe two more months.