The Winner

If Devin didn’t come into this store damn-near every day for the last 12 years, Izzy might not have said a thing. He didn’t even know Devin by name, but he knew his face as well as anyone. Even still, it was a lot to ask of someone making convenience store wages. But for some reason, Izzy called after Devin, who had just reinserted his earbuds.

“Yo. Yo, my man.”

Devin removed one of his earbuds as he turned around.

“This is a winner.”

Devin stood looking at him for a second, processing what he’d just heard before walking back to the counter. “How you figure?”

Suddenly on the spot, Izzy had to look it over again to be sure he wasn’t making a fool of himself. He gave it a twice-over to confirm as Devin approached.

“It says ‘reveal three dollar amounts and win that prize or reveal one spade and win the corresponding prize’”. He held it up for Devin to see. “You got a spade. Just didn’t scratch it all the way.”

Devin grabbed the card from his hands and scanned it silently for a moment.

“The top of the spade looks a lot like the top of the — ”

“ — Yeah. I think they do that on purpose.”

“Probably.”

They both stood silently for a moment.

“Well…shit.” Devin finally broke the silence.

“Yeah, man. You know, some folks come in here and don’t even play the games on these scratch-offs. They just scan the barcode under the machine. I always think ‘what’s the point in that?’ You know? Like, it’s a game, right? It’s not really fun or nothing, but it’s a game. I mean, it’s fun if you win, but you know what I’m saying. If you don’t scratch it, it’s like…skipping to the last page of a book or something. Some mufuckas do that shit, you know? That’s crazy to me. But my point is, it’s a game. You’re supposed to play it, right? But maybe those folks are on to something. The only thing that matters is the outcome.”

“I guess so.” Devin stared at the ticket again. “I coulda left this shit on the counter, man. I did, actually.” The unspoken question between them: why didn’t Izzy keep it?

Izzy shrugged like it was no big deal, but inside he felt as good as he possibly could on another person’s behalf. It felt good to see Devin get a winner. Despite the fact that they’d never exchanged more than transactional conversation and common pleasantries. 12 years is a long time to know someone, whether you knew their name or not. And Devin had been nothing but solid every time he came in. It’d be impossible to count how many people came in and talked to him like he was less than a person just because he was behind the counter and they weren’t. In any event, Izzy knew he couldn’t cash a ticket sold at his own store, so what the hell?

“You a different type of dude. Good looking out.”

Izzy smiled and nodded.

“So, what do I do? You cash me out, right?”

“For prizes over $600 you gotta mail it in. Or you take it to one of the claims centers.”

“Mail it in?” Devin laughed. It was the only time Izzy could recall ever seeing that happen. “Yeah, I bet. I send that shit in and that’s the last I hear of it. Nah, I’ma take it down there myself.”

“That’s probably your best bet. It’s in the middle of nowhere, though.”

“That ain’t no problem.” Devin reinserted his earbud, gave Izzy a nod, and walked to the exit.

Izzy returned the nod as he leaned against the counter, pondering that unspoken question. Why didn’t he keep it? He could’ve had a friend cash it. Or figured something out. For now, he’d certainly have to keep this information to himself. Laurie, who’d been urging him to get a better job so they could get a house (“a real house”) for as long as they’d been together would never forgive him if she found out. Not to mention the fact th —

“How much is this?”

Izzy snapped out of his head and returned to the present moment. He was a clerk in a convenience store.

“Huh?”

“How much is this?” A customer held up a tall can from the rear of the store.

“99 cents. It says it on the can.”

“Shit, I don’t know, man. Niggas be charging all types of shit. $1.29, $1.50. I’m just making sure.”

“We don’t fuck with the prices.”

“Like I said, ock, just checking.”

As the man dug into his pockets for change, Izzy stood thinking and he would swear to himself for the rest of the day — for the rest of his life— that his happiness for Devin hadn’t dimmed, that he didn’t regret returning the winner.

Before Devin left the store that day, he made sure to stuff the ticket deep into the hidden zippered pocket he’d sewn into his down coat. He would strap it to his bare chest if he could, but the pocket would suffice. The jacket held the break he’d been waiting on for months, but he wasn’t the only person around who could make use of such a windfall. He glanced to his right, making note of any people in the area, before turning left, shielding his face from the wind, and walking the short distance home.