Money Is Worthless

JOHN

The man I see in the mirror isn’t the man I once was. Johnny St. Jacks the guitar god, no more. I sit in the shower of my newly inherited castle to think, and jerk off. The steam feels good. Nothing like blowing a load to clear my mind.

I’m starting to look a little scraggly with my hair this long. Should I chop it? I pause in front of the mirror for a moment feeling a bit unsettled. I heave over the toilet and throw up. Fuck this sucks.

My office setup in the center of the library. The surrounding shelves are full of first editions, and vintage books. There are a few exotic plants by the windows and six electric guitars hanging high on the walls. My beloved acoustic sits next to my desk on a stand. I miss the days of playing with my band mates.

My phone rings, “Johnny St. Jacks.” Her name escapes me for a moment. I rub my beard as I listen to her tell me about her day. “So, are we still on for tonight?” I smile. “Excellent. See you then.” I walk into the corridor. There’s statues, paintings, and fine art on either side of the hallway.

I descend the grand marble staircase down into the foyer. The maid is a tall and slender male with a peculiar personality. “Sir?” Ugh. “What is it Ernie?” I grunt as I grab my coat and keys. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stay out too late,” I roll my eyes, “You have four interviews lined up tomorrow morning.” He’s annoying, but he’s right. I’m hiring a house manager. I can’t do this shit alone.

The long driveway from the castle feels more like a road. I approach the security guard. He opens the gate for me to pass through. I drive along country back roads through the farmlands before reaching the city.

I stop at my pharmacy and pick up my medication, which I hide in my center console. The city is alive, an art district full of life tonight. I turn into an empty parking spot in front of my favorite Italian restaurant.

I walk in and take a quick look around for the woman I met online. The hostess approaches me. “Good evening Mr. St. Jacks. She quickly grabs a menu. “Right this, your party is waiting for you by the window.”

She is busting out of her burgundy cocktail dress. I sit down without saying a word. We sit in silence for a moment until the waiter arrives. I order a beer, and she asks for a martini. “I didn’t peg you for a beer guy. Whiskey maybe.” She says. “Those days are far behind me.” I disagree.

She asks me about my day but I don’t respond. I’m not interested in small talk. I can tell that she’s uncomfortable with silence, and I like that.

The waiter carefully places our drinks down on the table. “What did we decide?” He asks. “We didn’t.” She says. “Oh I think we did,” I look at the waiter. “We’ll do the rib eye with mashed sweet potatoes, and greens.” He nods, “I’ll get that right in for you.” The waiter rushes off to the kitchen.

“What if I was vegan?” She begs. “Are you?” She shakes her head, “No.“ I smile, “Alright then.” She takes a sip of her drink, “Does this always work for you?” Maybe she’s figured me out already, “Usually yes. Is it working?” Her eyes size me up, “Kind of.”

“Sandra, tell me what you do for work.” I finally ask her. “Do you really care?” She asks me. “Not really.” I pick up my pint glass, and take a swig.

The waiter brought over our dinner. We ate our meals in complete silence. I enjoy watching her eat, as I’ve only picked at my plate. There’s far more joy watching her devour her steak.

The waiter stops by, “Any interest in desert tonight?” I hand him cash, “No, thank you. Keep the change.”

“Thank you, Mr. St. Jacks. It was my pleasure serving you two tonight.” The waiter says, as he steps away. Sandra looks at me with disgust.

“What if I wanted Desert?” She asks me. “Oh you’re gonna get it.” She’s totally into me. “You think you’re so sure?” I pick up on what she’s putting down. “Uh huh.” I stand up and hold out my hand for her. She declines and follows behind me as we walk out onto the street.

I turn my head and grin at her, “You like going fast?”

“Goodnight John. Thanks for an interesting evening.” She lingers.

“You got somewhere else to be?” She looks down to her feet then up the street as if she wants to exit stage left. “Not at your place.” I smile at her and say, “You’re really gonna turn down a Knight in shining armor, fully loaded with a castle and a red steed?” I lift my hand and point my electric key fob to my red Porsche. The lights blink.

Chirp chirp.

“Like that’s not a line, You don’t have a fucking castle.” She scoffs. “Oh I beg to differ milady. Come with me and let’s slay the dragon.” This woman is laughing at me. She has no idea who I am, but I know she wants me.

“That’s a bit creepy Mr. St. Jacks. I’m not gonna be one of your chained up victims in your basement.” She throws a dig. I can play this game. “Don’t you mean, my dungeon?” She looks slightly more interested. “Do you really have a castle?” She asks me. I walk to her, move her hair behind her shoulder. “Come see it for yourself.” All this foreplay better lead to a nightcap.

“On one condition.” This ought to be good, I’m listening. “I get to drive.” She’s crazy, but what the hell.

I put my hand out for her, she willingly takes it. I help her into the driver’s seat. I close the doors. She blasts the music, and quickly buckles her seat belt. She looks a bit anxious, but manages to pull off a burnout.

That just makes me want to get home faster.