They Call Her Love | ✔️

10: They Call Her Lucky

"Love, are you ready for this?" Carol asks, holding the door handle to the Thompson City Bank.

I take a deep breath. "I'm ready," I reply to her, almost believing myself. I clutch the firm piece of paper in my hand and follow her.

"Good," She nods, taking the lead and stepping into the marbled lobby, her three inch heels clacking with every stride. I don't even have time to admire the high ceilings with silver and black decorative accents, or even greet the burly security guard we pass by, because Carol makes a beeline towards a corner that houses two locked doors clearly labeled 'Restricted Access'.

"Uh, Carol...?" I trail as she whips out an ID card and swipes it against a black scanner besides the left door. There's no response from her, even when the doors click and she glides right through them as if she's worked here for years.

"Whoa," I voice, walking into a small dark room. There's a clerk sitting at a plain wooden desk but behind him, is a glass wall. Within the clear and untouched confinement is a giant gray metal vault sitting alone in a dimly lit area. "What is this?"

"This is the vault room," Carol explains, again, as if she worked here. "Important legal accounts, high valued assets, and large sums of money are stored here."

"I see," I nod. Having never stepped foot into the Thompson City Bank (because apparently having a credit card at my age isn't normal to society, according to my parents), this is the closest I've ever been to seeing a real vault in person.

"Carol, great to see you again," The clerk stands up to greet her. Carol leans in for a quick peck on the cheek from the white-haired clearly aged man.

"Likewise Sam," She says. "Love, this is Sam, he's bank manager here."

"Ah yes! The lottery winner," Sam pronounces. I'm surprised to find that he's a few inches shorter than I and being only 5'5, this knocks me back. "It's an honor to meet you."

I'm completely flattered by this because in all my years of living, no one has ever been honored to stand in my presence. God bless this short man. "Oh, thank you, the honor is all mine. I've never met someone this important before."

"Important? Oh, dear no. I hear you're the one that's going to be starring in her own show," He says, gray eyes widening. "That sounds more important than being a bank manager."

"Yes, it's very exciting, but nerve wracking as well," I answer politely.

He chuckles. "You'll be fine dear."

"Sam, shall we start?" Carol is quick to cut in with the business.

"But of course," He nods and gestures for us to take a seat across from him.

For the next hour, Sam turns the paper check into money. I state that I want half of the fifty million to be locked away in a savings account that only I - or rather, my parents, until I turn eighteen - have access to. I figure that having that much stored would be enough in case of emergencies, college funds, or any future needs that would call for about twenty five millions of dollars.

"Now, since the lottery will be seen as your income, you qualify for the American Express Centurion Credit card," Sam's eyes sparkle in delight.

"What is that?" I feel myself getting excited.

"It is one of the most exclusive credit cards made for only those who can, well, afford one. The card is made out of titanium, comes with personal shoppers at designer labels, tons of travel perks, and there must be a minimal annual spending of $250,000. Of course, there are a few fees that we'll discuss in a moment, but that's about the best deal you could get with the amount of money you're working with."