“Never heard of a priest named Doug before.”
The priest looked up without a sense of amusement. “You want to break the ice? Find me a polar bear. Otherwise tell me what you want.”
“Sorry. Any luck?” Jake asked as he motioned towards the donations box sitting by the door.
“Not as much as I’d hoped,” he replied as he rubbed his aged hand over his short white beard. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was hoping I could help you actually.”
“No offense, but unless you have a very thick envelope in your pocket, I don’t think you can,” the man wearily replied.
“How thick would that envelope have to be?”
“About 50 Grand thick, give or take.”
“Give or take how much?” Jake asked.
The Priest exhaled loudly as he less than enthusiastically fumbled through the stack of papers before him. He retrieved a single sheet and held it in front of him. The reading glasses hanging around his neck made their way over his eyes and he spoke clearly. “$49, 543.”
“Big number,” Jake said.
“Do you have $49 543 in your pocket Mr…”
“Jake. And no I don’t.”
“Then Mr... Jake. I’m afraid you can’t help, now if you’ll please find the door. I have enough work to do.”
“Sorry I wasted your time,” Jake said. He slid ten dollars in the donation box as he turned and left.
“God bless,” the priest sighed.
As Jake walked away from the semi-constructed orphanage his mind went to work. “How do I get fifty-thousand dollars?” he asked himself. The foot traffic around him grew thicker, the closer he moved to the town center. He glanced through the front windows of the shops as he passed them, offering a wave to the most of the storeowners. He stopped and turned as he realized out of the fifteen stores he had wandered past, he knew at least a dozen of the owners personally. Most of the stores in the area were small businesses, local businesses, people who knew his name and more importantly, knew his surname. He entered the nearest equipped store and made his way for the laundry supplies. After finding what he needed, he approached the cash register.
“Hey Morty,” Jake said as he placed a blue plastic bucket on the counter.
“Jake, how are you doing? How’s your father?” the middle-aged Morty replied.
“Good, and good. Just this please.”
“Sure,” Morty said as he scanned the barcode on the bottom of the bucket.
“How’s business?” Jake asked.
“It’s good, the misses is in the back doing stock-take. Been a big week for us. That’s $4.95.”
“Alright,” Jake said as he reached for his wallet. “You got some tape behind the desk? And a marker?”
Morty exchanged the objects for the cash. Jake took a strip of the tape and stuck it on the surface of the bucket and scribbled across it.
“What’s the bucket for?” Morty asked as he held out the change. Jake turned it around the reveal the word ‘Donations,’ across the front.
“Donations?”
“For the orphanage down the way. It’s not going to get finished unless we all chip in.”
Morty dropped Jake’s change in the bucket and smiled. “I do what I can.”
“Smart, but Morty, listen to me. Yours is going to be the first donation, the first pile of money in this big blue plastic bucket of hope. However much you donate is going to influence how much the next guy puts in here. Seeing as how business is ‘good,’ I don’t see why it has to be a small amount.”
Morty exhaled loudly, he knew he was caught in a guilt net. “How much do you want?”
“As much as a well off businessman can spare for a few homeless kids with nothing but a pair of shoes to share.”
“God damn it,” Morty said as he opened the cash register. “At least I can check off charitable contribution when the tax-man comes around.” He counted a handful of cash and reluctantly placed it in the bucket; a gesture which was not entirely selfless, to be on the favorable side of the Winters family was always a good thing in South-Ariel.
“You’re a saint,” Jake said.
“This better not be a scam, this is all we can spare,” Morty said.
“Would I cheat you,” Jake said with a youthful smile. He turned and made his way out. He stood outside the store and looked around at the other potential targets. He looked over his shoulder to offer Morty a thank you wave but saw him making his way towards the back; his wife Dorine was taking his place behind the register. A smile spread across Jake’s face. If there was one person he could guilt more than Morty, it was his wife.
“Dorine,” Jake said as he made his way back inside.
“Jake!” she enthusiastically replied. “How good to see you again.”
“You too,” he said as he placed the bucket back up on the counter. “You care about kids right?”
By the end of the day Jake had visited every one of the stores within a mile radius of his home. The bucket had been filled twice and kept in a bag on Charlie and Harry’s couch. He was half way through sorting and counting when they came home.
“What do we have here?” Harry said, seemingly impressed by the piles of cash. “He might actually pull this off.”
“How much you got there Jake?” Charlie asked.
“Once I’m done counting, I’ll let you know,” came the proud reply.
Charlie and Harry smiled at each other, they both knew what Jake had yet to learn, piles of cash were never as much as they looked.
“How much do you need?” Charlie asked, an irrelevant question, since he had called and asked already.
“Fifty-grand.”
“That’s a big number,” Harry said.
“This is a big pile,” Jake replied.
“Is it?” Harry replied with an elevated tone. They waited and watched as Jake slowly did the math with a stone-aged calculator.
“That can’t be right,” Jake said.
“What is it?”
“There’s only like… three grand here.”
“Well, only forty-seven to go. Nice effort though,” Harry said.
Jake slouched back into the couch.
“Did you go to a strip club?” Charlie asked as he held up a handful of singles.
“They give what they can…”
Harry took three beers from the fridge and dropped into the couch beside Jake. He popped them open with the base of his lighter and handed one to both the Winters brothers. “Don’t sweat it, maybe this one was too big for your first time.”
“Maybe. But then again, maybe not,” Jake said. He placed the beer on the table, took the empty bucket and made his way for the door.
“You think he’ll do it?” Harry asked.
“I think he’ll try,” Charlie said as he placed his beer on the table next to Jake’s. “I’m having dinner with Jen, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then we'll head out with Theo.” The door closed and Harry was left alone.
“Guess it’s just me and you, guys,” Harry said to the three open beers. He turned on the TV and made himself comfortable.
A few hours later Jake found himself in Jack’s Diner with an almost miserably empty bucket. He had come to realise people gave less at night.
“Come on man,” Jake pleaded with the owner.
“Sorry Jake, I can’t spare anything right now, I’ve got to look after my own first.”
He hung his head in defeat, consecutive rejections wasn’t helping.
“Jacob,” a voice called.
Jake turned to see Sam and Solomon Taylor enjoying burgers and fries across a booth. Their similar short blonde hair and facial features would lead a betting man to guess they were brothers, and although the pair shared a surname and many other similarities, it was purely coincidence that brought them together as children, not family.
“Hey guys,” Jake said as he dropped into the booth beside Solo
mon.
“You beggin’ for scraps now?” Sam asked.
“Begging is the right word, and failing.”
“What for?”
“Trying to help out an orphanage.”
“That one from the paper? I read about that,” Solomon said.
“You don't read shit unless its on the back of a cereal box,” Sam said.
“Alright, I heard about it then. Big investor pulled out, left the building only half way finished.”
“Why would someone do that?” Jake asked.
“Word on the street say someone got paid off.”
“Paid off? To not invest?”
“Makes sense, anyone would rather get money than give it, plus what kind of return can you expect from an orphanage?” Sam asked.
“None I guess, but that's the point. Who would pay them off?” Jake asked.
“Whoever wants a cheap, almost fully constructed building. If they can’t afford to finish it I’m sure it’ll go on the open market, for quite the discount.”
“You guys find your way into any cash lately?” Jake asked.
“We’ve got a few things cooking, but nothing ready to come out of the oven yet. We were going to head down the Green Door tonight, in case you want to try and gamble that money up a bit,” Solomon said.
Jake smirked. “Gamble the money I’m trying to save? Doesn’t seem like a wise choice.”
Sam and Solomon shared a look. “Actually,” Sam said. “You ever play Roulette?”
“On occasion. Why?”
“Well... we came by a system,” Solomon helped sell the idea.
“A system?” Jake asked cautiously.
“Hear us out. You can bet thirds of the wheel right? so the chances are one in three of tripling your money. Now you choose a third and place a bet, say fifty. Now if you hit it, you get one-fifty.”
“Wow, thanks professor. What about if you