"I'm... I'm sorry for barging in on you like this." Jack began to turn away. "I know you must be busy with something." And he had a pretty good idea what that might be.

"No." Golden grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him into the main room.

The decorator had a penchant for gold—it screamed palace. It was everywhere, paired with an intimidating white. Everything gleamed, much like the man who lived there. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if Golden had personally dictated the design details. Now, they, the unsuspecting visitors, had to endure it.

Golden led Jack to a single padded seat, and Jack quickly sank into it, feeling lost and disoriented. He had somehow ended up at Golden's house. Golden sat on a white chair, regarding him with a curious expression. For a fleeting moment, Jack thought he could see the growth sprouting from his own head. Panic surged through him as he touched them—they were there, as always, but they shouldn't have been visible to Golden. Golden wasn't a Creature; he shouldn't have been able to see them...

Or could he? Did they all know the evil fraud Jack was?

"Are you alright?" Golden's voice entered Jack's confused thoughts.

"Hmmm?" Jack said, staring at him with disoriented, wide eyes.

But Jack regained himself and let his hands come down, slowly, until they were resting on his thighs. No, Golden couldn't see them - or could he? Jack heard his breathing come and go louder than usual. Golden’s focus was clearly on Jacks horns. Jack looked away, He couldn't look at Golden now. Jack couldn't see the physical representation of the devil's kiss upon him but he now knew.

"Jack?" Golden said in a gentler, more compassionate voice that sounded strange coming from him. "Would you like something to drink? You seem rattled."

The music was too loud. It made Golden difficult to hear and comprehend. It must have been coming from his master bedroom upstairs. Or, if Jack was correct in his assumptions as to why this was a bad time, from his playroom downstairs.

Involuntarily, Jack looked up as though he could see through the ceiling.

"Jack!" Golden called more loudly, jolting Jack back to the present.

Jack faced him with unblinking eyes. "What's up?" His voice sounded strange and far off.

"Will you tell me what is going on?" Golden's lips were terse with what seemed like annoyance. "Should I be worried?"

"Don't be." Jack brought himself out from that place he had cowered into and forced a smile. He moved forward in his seat. "I will have that drink, please. The entire bottle, if you will."

A moment later, Golden was grinning and sighed in relief. Jack had come down to a level he could understand and attend to—a level he was used to.

"Now, I get you!" Golden jumped to his feet and all but hopped to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. "It must have been your lovely fans that chased you down here, wasn’t it? It was why you remembered me today."

"What do you mean?" Jack said to Golden's back as he retrieved what Jack thought to be a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"You know what I mean, Jack. You were very busy being a celebrity, and I don’t blame you. Money does things to people like me, while fame does things to people like you. It’s fair. I don’t hold anything against you."

Golden laughed above the thumping sounds as he returned and handed Jack a glass. Jack held it out like a begging child while Golden poured the brownish liquid into it. The scent hit Jack's nose first, and he wanted to laugh with him. Life looked less complicated all of a sudden.

"Drink up, friend," Golden said, pouring a glass for himself. "Life is too short to pretend like you don’t like the attention. Yes, it can bring anxiety on some days, but I’m sure you love your best days."

"No," Jack said without thinking.

Golden laughed again. "Let's not deceive ourselves, friend. You’re on everyone’s lips—raving about your books and movies. They’re just too good."

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"They are not good movies, Golden," Jack corrected. "Nothing is good about the books or the movies that came out of them. Just smut... it’s always smut. Nothing else. How is unimaginative sexed up drivel 'good'?"

Golden's mouth opened as if to reply, but no words came out. He looked around in confusion before retreating to his chair. Jack sipped his drink, enjoying the warm burn of whiskey down his throat. He knew it was futile; Golden wouldn't understand, just like Demi hadn't. But Jack wished someone would get him, even if he couldn't put everything into words.

"Are you depressed, Jack?" Golden asked suddenly. "Is this one of those things that celebrities deal with eventually?"

"No."

"Do you need more women than you're getting?"

"No!" Jack's teeth locked.

"You want to travel somewhere so you can see other kinds of women and write about them?"

"No!"

"The fame is making you see how much more you need it?"

"Christ! Shut up!"

"Then why did you come to me?" Golden said in a raised voice.

"Because..." Jack couldn’t continue. He sat there, staring at Golden's expectant, exasperated face, and he couldn’t bear to repeat the thoughts again. He couldn’t bear to be looked at like a mad, ungrateful dog.

When his eyes started to water, Jack blinked and sat back in the chair. He drained his glass in one gulp.

"Easy, man!" Golden warned. "I don't want you choking and dying on me now. The press will have a field day." He laughed loudly, expecting Jack to join in. But there was nothing to laugh at.

Golden stopped his laughter halfway and stared at Jack. "Why are you so uptight? Who is this Jack in my house today? I don’t know him."

"I don’t know him either," Jack confessed solemnly.

It made Golden take a pause in which he regarded Jack seriously.

Finally, when he spoke again, he broke out in a grin. "I don't know what’s come over you today, but it’s nothing a juicy piece of ass wont handle."

Already, Jack was shaking his head in negation. Golden didn't seem to care.

"Trust me—this one will help you write the juiciest scene you've ever written. If it's inspiration you want, thank whatever breeze blew you here today because this girl will be the inspiration of a lifetime. Trust me."

"I don’t want any of what you’re offering, Golden. I honestly didn't."

"You don’t know what you want until you’re swimming in warm, tight slipperiness. Talk about fun, this girl is pure submissive. You will love it.”

Jack blinked at him in confusion. "Submissive?"

Golden winked at him and grinned manically. He looked like he was baring his teeth—a warning. "I was just done tying up two delights in my playroom when you interrupted me." He winked at Jack again. "You know what that means."

Jack nodded because there was no point lying. They were two playboys who understood.

"I was going to take them both, but what are friends for? I will give one of them to you my friend. You really need to unwind, and let go of whatever all the crap is."

Jack's brain was getting foggy, so he just asked the one clear question in his head. "Did they consent to this? Did they want to be tied up and whatever else you were ready to do to them up there?"

Golden shrugged and drained his glass before replying. "They are escorts, Jack, All that matters is that I pay them for services rendered."

Jack shook his head sadly. "It's not." He looked away from Golden and down at his feet. "Can’t you do better? Have you ever wondered about feeling a different kind of pleasure that is not a high you get from meaningless sex with people you don't care about?"

"No," Golden scoffed.

Jack knew Golden was angry, but he couldn't see his face and so it didn’t hit home.

"Do you ever want to take a break from all these things your money buys you and try to find out what you can create yourself? Have you ever thought of trying to put more into life than you take out of it?"

"Are you crazy?"

Jack locked eyes with Golden's furious gaze, his voice dripping with contempt. "Do you ever stop and think that, despite all your wealth, you're living a life as hollow and pathetic as a beggar in the street? Do you? All the meaningless sex and exploiting others because of your money—does that really make you feel powerful? Or has the devil's kiss made you as empty inside as the shallow facade you put up?"

"Get out!" Golden ordered, jumping up from his seat.

Jack looked up at Golden's trembling face and body. He saw the red eyes, and the telltale bumps on Golden’s forehead. It was a certainty now. Jack knew he would not find solace here.

"Do you hear me, Jack?" Golden's hard voice yelled. "Get out of my house!"

Jack stood and silently headed for the door. Golden did not immediately follow. Jack only heard the door slam when he was halfway back to his car.