There was nothing more. No one suspected anything. Nothing. What was there? And no one asked why. It was reckless but no one cared. This trip was different. It was strange, but he was glad to be free. Natural.
The roar of his ego telling him, “You’re beautiful.
You’re bright.” If he screamed, it was unheard. If he screamed again, it was thrilling. The roar telling him, “Make your millions; drink your champagne.” Slowly he moved from the corner, out of the shadow, out of the smoke of a furnace funhouse.
There was more to it, of course. The smell of secret money inextricably entwined, enmeshed with every aspect of his private life. Love and mercy disguised. Call it spiritual legitimacy but it’s nothing but power. Take advantage. Get even. Double life. Double standards. Predatory addictions will not let go. We have photographs. We have incriminations. Behind the savage scenes. Subtle hints and controlling forces, blinded and blinding. He has a lot to hide.
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