Larry Grayson III, was the son of a govenor, and the grandson of senator. His life was the most privileged, attending the best schools, and having the most seductive women lazing about the mansion. He became used to socializing with the highest, most influential members of society.
Alas, he failed to develop any connections himself. His friends from school tolerated his company, though none were close to him, or owed him any favours. He was a little startled to find his attendance required at the lottery centre. However, he was sure his name would protect him... Even if he hadn't any personal favours to claim, surely nobody would want to be in his father's bad favour, or his grand-father's.
He convinced himself, it was an act of theatre, his attendance for show, that even the most powerful could be called upon. He could easily pluck a blue ball from the box, and ensure he was exempt from any future draws. Yes, yes, that had to be it.
- - - - -
Larry Grayson the third, missed that his father had avoided him that morning. His father's office was unavailable to him. The chauffeur announced his presence with a polite cough. "It's time, Master Grayson."
He hated being addressed like that, it made him sound childish and immature. He smiled back at the chauffeur through gritted teeth, picturing him as a new woman kneeling in front of him and serving him.
Larry groaned, the time having crept up on him. Bile rose in his throat, theoretically it could be him, or rather her in that role at the end of the day. So used to events being organised around him, and fluidly just happening.
With a distinguished nod, he'd copied from his father's mannerisms, he headed out to the car. The chauffeur opening the door for him, seemed particularly happy today.
Before he took his familiar position. The drive to the lottery centre, wasn't long, but Larry's nerve cracked several times on the short journey. Despite trying to project confidence and calm, his foot tapped the floor nervously. Spotting that, Larry tightened his grip on his knee, stopping the relentless drumming.
However, his fingers curled and uncurled, until the car slowed to a stop. The ominous lottery building loomed high over the car. Heading into the underground garage, he gasped as the darkness claimed him.
"It will be okay." Larry told the driver, as he got out the car. Proud he'd managed it without stuttering or stammering. Just wishing he hadn't sounded like it was a question. A lesson to practice one he was back at the mansion.
He walked towards the elevator to the chamber. Managing to hide from the chauffeur behind a support pillar, as his breakfast returned. Wiping the last traces of his nervous puking, he tossed the handkerchief in a bin.
Entering the elevator, he resisted the urge to flee, as the door closed. The main computer of the building reading his bio-signature ensured it delivered him to the right floor.
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