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family to speak of, and rarely spotted in public, especially at this time of year, despite all of that money available to him, is this former actor turned city golden boy, unable to buy the one thing he's so desperately looking for?”
    “What's that Steve?” I say, playing out the conversation in my head.
    “Well, I think you know exactly what it is I'm talking about. Love.”
    “What a load of bullshit”, I say, arguing with myself. “I want it, I can buy it. There isn't anything in this world that can't be bought with the right money, and I'm fucking rolling in it. Everything has a price, you just need to work out how to negotiate for it. Even love.”
    When I'm done with the bath, I get out, dry myself and choose a suit. The way I look is very important to me. Jack and Stuart and even Craig to a certain extent, don't go in for all of that, but I do. It's part of the fucking look, and it works. There's no point in having as much money as I do if you don't look the part. Sure the other guys will get suited and booted, but that's only half of it, you've got to feel it to do the rest. The clothes I put on, the watch, the rings, the cologne, the jewellery, even the fact that I have my teeth polished and whitened, it all costs money.
    I pay almost six hundred dollars to have my haircut the way I want to every month, because it makes a difference. You can't pick up girls like Rachel and Alice if you don't do it like that. That's why Jack has to pay for every fuck he gets, and everyone who fucks him resents him for it. Jack will never get it. He squirrels his money away like animals do food, the little he earns of it compared to everyone else.
    Carter knows, but he just hasn't got the style to go along with it. He'll pay six hundred dollars for a McDonald's burger, just because he'll want to be seen flashing the cash. Fucking idiots, all of them. I only hang around with them because it makes me look all that much better by comparison. I'm the only king in the room when we're together, and there isn't anyone who can touch me. They all think I'm the golden boy and want to stick to me like glue, Jack included, even though he whines about it the most. They aren't wrong.
    Christmas fucking day tomorrow. The girl who cleans this apartment left me a Christmas tree as a present and it now sits exactly where she left it, on the coffee table in the living room, untouched. It will sit there until she comes back to work next week and clears it away, and neither one of us will say anything about it again. She's lucky I don't sack her, but I guess she just doesn't know.
    It's just gone 7pm. I'm dressed, I'm rich, and I'm ready to play. Nothing can stop me.
    I know where they'll be. They'll have gone there straight after work, and it's where I'm heading now. I make sure the only card I carry in my embossed silver card holder is the black credit card with the gold K sculpted into it, which I wrap ten fifty dollar bills around for tips and other expenses, and then I call a driver.
    Jingle Bells is playing on the radio when I get into the car.
    “Turn that fucking shit off”, I say angrily.
    He turns it off. “Where to?” he asks, craning his neck awkwardly so he can face me.
    “Aces”, I say.
    “Coming right up”, he says, a nervous laugh to break the ice, and manoeuvres the car out onto the road.
    I was an actor for five years because I like being the centre of attention. The reason I stopped was because I like making money even more. The two worlds aren't all that much different. You work stupid hours, nobody really understands what it is you do, everyone's an asshole and they all think they're better than everyone else at what they do. It's just as a city trader the salary and the bonuses are a hell of a lot sweeter. It took a while to transition and a lot of hard work. People see how much money I earn and how much I spend, and they don’t think about the hard work I’ve put in that’s got me here. I was successful before and