When Our Numbers Came Up
written by: Tim Law
We called ourselves The Successful Seven, a nickname that was my idea, not wanting to steal the far more famous seven-themed gang from children’s literature. We consisted of Hailey the Hairdresser, Ian who worked for IBM, Rachael in Records who knew everything about everyone, Chris who we joked was the checkout chick, Bahai the Baker that wanted a new job (preferably nine to five), Nick, the numbers man, and of course me, old Leon the Librarian. We all hung out at Steamers Café in the main street, bought each other coffees, or in Chris’ case, chai flavored with cinnamon and vanilla. Over the course of a few years, we got to be pretty close.
It wasn’t too huge a stretch then, when Nick suggested we put in a few bucks and spring for a multi in the end-of-year lotto. Seventy-seven million split evenly was a nice nest egg, and I was close to retirement age, so I was first to throw my weight behind the idea. After the old man of the group suggested it was OK, well, everyone gave it the thumbs up.
Nick took seven numbers from each of us, and the required ten bucks for the ticket.
“I’ll tease out the best combo from everyone’s suggestions,” he promised, and we all crossed our fingers.
Saturday night was a tense one. I sat glued to the idiot box as the numbers were drawn. 8… 12… 3… 42… 23… 16… and 39…
“Oh my…” I murmured.
Somehow, we’d done it… Nick the Numbers Wizard had conjured up a winning combination.
My phone lit up, Bahai was still awake; she was normally in bed by seven thirty.
“Hello?” I said as I answered.
“Leon!” she cried, sounding frightened.
“Bahai, what is it?” I replied, anxious and concerned. “Are you alright?”
The call terminated, and there was no response when I tried to call her back.
I tried Hailey instead.
“Leon!” she shouted. “I’m at the pub.”
“Have you seen Bahai?” I asked, but then considered how stupid my question was.
“Bahai? Why do you ask?” Hailey replied. “Yes, she’s here with me now.”
Hailey’s voice sounded odd; it could have been the background noise of the Crown, though; I couldn’t be certain.
Instinct overruled common sense, and I flicked off my slippers and went searching for my glasses and driving shoes.
I hated the Crown on a Friday or Saturday night, too many people and too much noise. Chris met me at the door. He looked like he was in a hurry.
“We won, mate,” I said, giving him a weak smile.
“You shouldn’t have come, Leon,” Chris muttered. “Nick’s gone mad.”
The young man from my local shop stumbled and fell, right there at my feet. A steak knife protruded from his back, a thick patch of crimson staining his jacket. Scanning the bar, I could see Hailey slumped over her dinner, Bahai lay right beside her. Ian and Rachael were slumped together on the floor.
A dice flew from Nick’s hand, rolling until it stopped between my feet.
“A six, Leon,” he growled. “Looks like it’s your turn…”
“What’s going on, Nick?” I asked, or at least that was what I tried to say.
Nick wasn’t kidding, though… He’d rolled a six, and according to him, that was my number. I fumbled with my phone, hoping to call the cops, but Nick was too quick and slapped it from my hands. I hadn’t even turned it on.
“I need the money, mate, neck deep and all that… You know how it is…” Nick mumbled as he took one, then another step closer.
He was unarmed, but the look in his eyes told me pretty clearly, he’d find a way to do me in regardless.
“Take the ticket, I don’t need the money…” I lied.
Nick laughed, “A syndicate of one is the only sure way I can claim all that dough… You’re one number too many…” he chuckled, on the verge of madness, if not already there.
“The police are on their way,” called that nice waitress, Nancy.
“Thank you,” I called back. “Time for all this nonsense to end, Nick…”
“Too right, Leon…” cackled Nick.
Then he was on me. His hands slipped about my throat as he tried to send me to my maker.
That was how the constabulary found us. They put things right, soon enough. So now I visit Nick from time to time, in his nice room at the hospice. We play cards, never dice, for I’m no gambling man. I paid off Nick’s debts, and my own. The rest I gave to the family and friends of those whose lives were lost that night. It won’t bring anybody back, won’t truly pay for what Nick did. But, for me, it feels like the right way to remember that fateful night, the moment our numbers came up.
- When Our Numbers Came Up - May 1, 2025
- The Eleventh Tome – Chapter VIII - March 18, 2025
- The Eleventh Tome – Chapter VII - February 3, 2025
