Chapter 3: Los Angeles
After a few days, I packed some things into my suitcase and locked up the house in Delaware.
Surprisingly enough, the emancipation process would be completed in just over a month (normally it wasn't supposed to be that quick, especially because my record wasn't the best-I had been expelled from high school this year).
But it seemed Uncle Donnie's friend, Saul Goodman, had managed to speed up the process.
"Crazy how you can't trust appearances. Saul looks like a clown lawyer," I muttered out loud.
Another thing he took care of was the inheritance I would receive. Since I was the only child, I would get everything: $700,000 in property, a car, and some financial investments (an amount expected for an upper middle-class family).
But the biggest sum was the life insurance: $1 million (ten times what my mother earned in a year). And there was also a monthly income until I turned eighteen, $1,300 from Social Security, just pocket money.
"After the emancipation, I'll claim the $102 million prize."
Basically no one would know, since Delaware is one of the places that values anonymity the most (whether for companies or for lottery winners - you don't need to disclose the winner's name).
"All ready, Jake?" Jay asked, picking up some bags to help.
"Yes, we can go," I agreed.
Gloria put her arm around my shoulder affectionately "Don't worry, from now on, you have us… your familee. We take care of you!"
"Thanks! So, are we family Medellín or Cali?"
"¿Qué?" Gloria looked at me wide-eyed.
"I mean, your city origin."
"Neither." She gave me a suspicious look. "I come from a small village, very poor, but very beautiful. It is the number one village in Colombia for all the…" She gestured for Jay to help. "What is the word?"
"Murderers," Jay replied dryly.
"Jaay!" She said in a reproachful tone
And we kept talking until the airport, Manny trying to bring up one subject or another (he surprisingly has more maturity than I would expect from an eleven-year-old boy)
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We arrived in Los Angeles early in the morning. I already knew the city; I had been here before to give a few lectures at UCLA and Caltech. It seemed like a good place to live.
Jay picked up his car from the airport parking lot (a nice Mercedes-Benz S-Class W220), and we drove to his house.
"Here is your new house," Gloria said with her usual accent, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Wow, not bad Uncle Jay!" I exclaimed when I saw his mansion. It was in Brentwood, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in LA (no wonder he didn't react when I mentioned the million-dollar insurance).
I already suspected he was rich...
I sneaked a glance at Gloria, but soon I turned to my uncle,
"How did you get so rich?" I asked him, since my 'mom' didn't say much about her family.
"I have a closet company, Pritchett's Closets & Blinds," he said normally, but I could see the pride on his face
I made an astonished face. "Hmm, I wasn't expecting that," I murmured, frowning. "How do closets and blinds even go together? It seems like a strange duo to connect, not that I really know much about it."
As someone who always loved money, I studied economics and finance (I even worked briefly for old Simon, thanks to my math background). But closets and blinds felt oddly specific.
"We can talk about it later," Jay gestured for me to come in. "Come on, let me show you the house."
Jay's house was a mini-mansion. On the ground floor there was a spacious family room, a dining room, and a living room connected to the kitchen, plus a small guest bedroom.
Upstairs were the bedrooms: three suites (I stayed in one, a bit smaller than Manny's), another guest room, and Jay's office.
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Three weeks passed quickly with me living at Jay and Gloria's.
In the beginning, I mostly stayed in my room - making plans, writing, and browsing the archaic 2003 version of the internet to figure out what was the same and what had changed.
Everyone let me be so I could grieve in silence, but day by day they tried to bring me into the conversations.
Gloria, especially, was a passionate mother, even making me a little envious of Manny. But she did her best to treat me like a son (quoting her: "Latina mom has a big heart, always space for one more").
Another thing: she genuinely cared about Jay. No fakeness. And with how gorgeous and kind she is (not a bimbo, even if she looks the stereotype), Gloria could easily have landed a younger, richer guy if she only wanted money or a green card.
"Jaaaake!" I heard Gloria shouting my name, "Dinnner!"
"If she only had a mute button, she would be perfect," I murmured and went downstairs for dinner.
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"Your flight is tomorrow morning, right, Jake?" Jay asked as he placed another piece of meat on his plate.
"Yes, 9 a.m.," I confirmed. "And I'll be back on Saturday, five days later, as an adult."
"If you don't come back, I will hunt you down!" Gloria warned me.
"Aye aye aye, Mamá Gloria!" I saluted her.
There is no reason not to come back. The people I could call family are here, and they are wonderful. I visited the Dunphy family twice; I like them too, especially Phil.
"Jaay," Gloria turned to him, "shouldn't we call Cam and Mitchell later?"
"Gloria, they'll be back in LA in two weeks. And calls to Vietnam are expensive," Jay replied grumbled
"Could you bring some of those peach teas, Jake?" Manny politely asked
"Sure thing, kiddo," I agreed, already getting used to Manny's oddly formal way of speaking and his old-fashioned tastes