“Sounds good,” he said. “We’ll see you then.”
Topher hung up the phone. His friends were staring at him like they had just watched a Hitchcock movie with the sound turned off.
“What was that all about?” Mo asked.
“Apparently Cash left something behind for all of us in his will,” he said. “His lawyer needs to meet with us tomorrow in Chicago so he can distribute the trusts he put aside.”
“Wow,” Sam said. “I wonder what he left us.”
“I hope it isn’t more of that weed he made us smoke,” Mo said.
At ten o’clock the following morning, Topher received a text message from Carl Weinstock with a time and address to meet him at. Topher passed the message along to his friends and at two o’clock they met him on the twenty-third floor of a towering office building in downtown Chicago. The floor belonged to a swanky firm called Meredith Brown and Associates and a receptionist at the front desk escorted them into a long and intimidating boardroom. Carl Weinstock was waiting for them inside with an open briefcase. He was a short and chubby man with a thick mustache.
“Thank you all so much for meeting me on such short notice,” he said, and shook their hands. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get through this as quickly as I can.”
Topher, Joey, Sam, and Mo sat across from the lawyer and he passed them each a manila folder with their name on it.
“First off, let me tell you how sorry I am for your loss,” Carl said. “I’ve been working with Cash since he was just twelve years old, so this has been a difficult time for myself and others at my firm. Shortly before he died, Cash set aside some funds for each of you to help pay for your education. Go ahead and take a look.”
They each opened the folder in front of them and stared down in shock at the absurd amount of money the actor had left them.
“Holy fuckballs,” Joey said.
“This… this… is for us?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” Carl said. “Mr. Carter wasn’t sure how much your specific tuitions would cost, as you all had plans to attend different schools, but he wanted to leave enough so you didn’t have to worry.”
“Where did he think we’re going to school?” Mo asked. “Buckingham Palace?”
“This is about three more zeros than I would ever need,” Topher said.
“There’s a second page,” Carl said.
The teenagers turned their pages and discovered another generous inheritance from the actor.
“As you can see, the second page is more individualized to your specific needs,” Carl said. “Mr. Davis, Cash has left you his apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, should you pursue performing arts in New York City. Ms. Ishikawa, Cash has left you the official rights to his life story, should you choose to write a biography of the actor someday. And as for Mr. Collins and Ms. Gibson, Cash has left you both an additional trust. The second trust for you, Mr. Collins, is titled the Billy Trust, which is enough to hire a full-time caregiver for your brother so you can focus on your education. Ms. Gibson, Cash left no instructions on how he wishes you to use the second trust under your name, but he’s titled it the Transitioning Trust.”
After all the bombshells the teenagers from Downers Grove had endured over the summer, they didn’t think anything could ever shock them again. However, all four of them stared down at the legal documents with wide eyes and open mouths—they weren’t used to happy surprises.
“I can see you’re all rather stunned,” Carl said. “I’ll leave you alone for a moment while you absorb this information. If you have any questions, I’ll be right outside the door.”
The lawyer left the boardroom to give them a few minutes of privacy. It took a while before Topher, Joey, Sam, and Mo realized they weren’t dreaming and even longer for them to form words to speak to each other.
“Holy fuckballs,” Joey said again—as if all other words in the English language had escaped him.
“Can we even accept this?” Sam asked.
“Of course we can,” Joey said. “It’ll probably all go to taxes and stuff if we don’t, right, Topher? Topher?”
“Sorry, I’m really overwhelmed,” he said. “I never expected Cash would do this for us. How about you, Mo? You’re the creative one in the group. Did you ever imagine something like this could happen?”
Despite her overactive imagination, Mo was just as shocked as everyone else. The aspiring writer felt like she and her friends were living a ridiculous happy ending straight from the final page of one of her outlandish stories.
“Definitely not,” Mo said. “I don’t care what Cash said on the first day in the car—everything that’s happened to us this summer, well… it’s all been stranger than fanfiction.”