Lost December Read Free

conclusion?” Candace asked.
    “I’m just saying, that if your ultimate goal is to makemoney for the sake of making money, then you are the most extreme of hedonists, taking pleasure in the most obscure of pleasures.”
    “Marshall’s right,” Sean said. “Modern capitalism has created a new aesthetic, a shiny new species of man—one who doesn’t value what money can buy, only money itself. It’s like preparing a feast just to look at it.”
    “That can be pleasurable too,” Candace said.
    “You,” Sean said, pointing at Candace, “don’t talk so much.”
    Candace rolled her eyes.
    “There’s always been that man,” I said. “Just read Dickens.”
    “You’re right,” Sean said, nodding, “Our culture has invented nothing, it just unabashedly embraces cultures’ past failures—wipes them off and calls them new. It’s philosophically fascinating—the relativists have asserted for centuries that the journey
is
the destination, and this new breed of capitalist is living that. Create and hoard. It’s poetic.”
    “I don’t know why anyone would bother,” Lucy said, “It’s too much work. I say, work to live, not live to work. Just enough to afford life’s pleasures.”
    “What do you know about work?” Marshall asked.
    “Ask me what I know about pleasure,” she replied, leaning into him.
    “Well, it does raise interesting questions,” Candace said, “How much is enough? Are we born for greed or good? And, ultimately, what is good?”
    “That’s
the right question,” Sean said, touching the tip of his nose as if we were playing charades. “Greed
is
good.”
    “God
is good,” James said. He had spoken so little I’d almost forgotten he was there.
    “This might surprise you,” Sean said, turning to James, “but for once I’m not disagreeing with you, my twice-born friend. If you believe in God and that God is good, then it would be wrong to not acknowledge the good He’s created. It would be like worshiping the tree but shunning its fruit. Good is to be found in the pursuit of the pleasures of the world.”
    “So today you’re a hedonist,” Marshall said.
    “Hedonist
and
believer. Think about it. If you believe in the one All Mighty Creator, then look at what He’s created: the sensual pleasures, food, drink, flesh—they’re His creations, not ours—created for our enjoyment. And that is the only God worth worshiping, the one who created us …”
    “Or
we
created,” interjected Marshall.
    “… Or we created,” Sean agreed. “The God who wants us to experience true pleasure. Anything less is masochism. And that’s Lucy’s deal, not mine.”
    Lucy grinned.
    “She’d have to be a masochist to stay with Marshall,” Suzie said.
    Sean raised a glass. “To greed, hedonism and the One True God who gave it to the world.”
    Candace was right. Her friends were anything but dull.

CHAPTER
Six
    What a difference having a friend makes
…
    Luke Crisp’s Diary

    Candace and I left Smokey Joe’s a few hours later. It was dark outside and the temperature had fallen, necessitating a brisker pace. “So what did you think of my friends?” Candace asked.
    “Interesting.”
    “Interesting
good
or interesting
bad?”
    “Keeping up with their banter is the mental equivalent of a treadmill,” I said.
    She burst out laughing, which had a sweet, joyful ring to it. “Exactly. Sometimes when you’re with them you just want to drink yourself stupid. I never take them too seriously, but every now and then they’ll say something worth thinking about.”
    “So I take it that Sean’s the leader?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Tell me about him.”
    “Sean’s the son of a very wealthy Boston investment banker. He’s worldly, you know? He’s like a collegiate shaman. He’s got this amazing sense—he knows every party and can get into any of them. He’s likable, don’t you think?”
    I nodded. “He’s very charismatic.”
    “Yeah, he is. I could tell he liked you.”
    “How