When the fifth ball was sucked up into the display tube and called out by the weathergirl, Roy felt like one of the ping pong balls was stuck in his throat. He couldn't draw a breath. Roy looked at the ticket, then at the five numbers on the TV screen, then back to the ticket, back to the TV while aimlessly slapping at his brother's shoulder, head, face, back. "Damn it, Clint, we won the lottery. We got all five numbers on this lottery ticket." He almost screamed, "We fuckin' won the fuckin' lottery."
Clint grumbled, "Me and you are gonna do some dancing if you're lying to me."
"I ain't lying, I swear. But, hey, I get half of the money, right?"
"FUCK NO..!
"But Clint..."
"No way. You nag at me about how I'm throwing our hard-earned cash in the trash every Saturday, and now, you want me to give you half of the money."
Roy's smile stretched from ear to ear, "It's a shitload of money, Clint."
"Go ahead. I'm ready."
Roy called out the first number, "7."
Clint yawned and rubbed his eyes, "Okay, got it."
"10."
"Yeah, got it."
"11."
"Hey, we got three numbers. I won my money back."
"28."
"Oh shit."
"48."
"Son of a bitch, we got all five numbers. You better not be lying to me, Roy."
"I swear I ain't lying, Clint.
The older brother held the ticket with both hands, "How much did we win?"
Roy had a smile on his face that wouldn't go away, "We should call someone and tell'em we got the winning ticket."
"We should..." Clint stopped bouncing, "Or should we?"
"BAM, BAM, BAM." Someone was pounding on the side of their trailer. Muscles tensed, senses sharpened, the brothers fell silent.
Old Mr. Jones from next door called out, "Turn your gal-dang TV down. Some of us who ain't rich gotta go to work in the morning."
Clint called out, "Sorry, Mr. Jones. We'll keep the noise down." Then, with a finger to his lips, he whispered, "We should keep this to ourselves until we go to the Lottery Office and get the money."
"Oh, fuck..!" Roy's eyes opened wide and darted around the room, "You think somebody else heard us?"
Clint nodded, "Old man Jones heard us, and he can't hear himself fart. So, yeah, I bet all of our neighbors heard us."
"What the fuck should we do?"
Clint smiled, "Well then, lets' get the fuck out of here, Sundance."
Roy pushed the trailer door open and one-stepped off the patio deck and bounced on his toes across the driveway and around the Chevy Blazer, ready for anything.
The smoker, Roy's opponent, cast a small dark silhouette on the concrete driveway. The girl was leaning back against the Chevy truck on one leg, the other bent at the knee with the heel resting on the oversized off-road metal tire rim. The figure nudged itself away from the truck and turned toward the light - toward Roy. The cigarette flared to reveal the face of an angel. The rest of the shadow was smooth curves and firm bumps.
From the darkness came the petite blonde bombshell named Rita Mae West. She was a gorgeous seventeen-year-old sweetie. Blood red lipstick smiled up at Roy as Rita Mae brushed a stray strand of gold away from her emerald green eyes.