GOD MONEY

A guy named Rick was standing on the shady side of one of the city’s main streets, looking at the café across the road. The café was decent, surrounded by a premium bedding store, an elite perfumery, Cartier and luxury boutiques–it just had to here to fit in to attract an eye of the elegantly dressed attendees of such neighborhood.

I’ll be there like an eyesore, thought Rick, and shivered from the cold. November was approaching, the wind was getting stronger. Why do I come here all the time? This area is not for people like me, why do I horn in?

Scratching his unshaved cheek, Rick began to think: either he catches a bus at the first stop and goes home, or spits in the face of the rich and mighty, enters the café and sits at a free table. They look at me as if I have no right to be here. As if they deserve happiness that has fallen on them, as if they deserve expensive colleges! Fucking sons of bitches!

He walked nervously from side to side. Meanwhile, a brand new black Mercedes floated by; two cars after–a polished Audi. Instinctively, Rick’s hands clenched into fists. He followed the cars with his eyes intensively until they disappeared around the corner as if persistent stare would help him own them. His gaze again returned to the café.

Why do I come here? No, it’s time to go home, Rick decided. Good enough for a walk today!

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. But in the next instant, magnetized, jumped off the sidewalk and crossed the road, stopping just in front of the entrance.

Damn it, I want to see your eyes open wide when I pay you for your fucking coffee! How much does it cost, a thousand? Two?!

As he was standing there, hesitant and unwilling once again, the door opened and a guest came out. The smell of either cinnamon or caramel, Rick couldn’t tell the difference, swept over him, filling his lungs with an almost unbearable sweetness. For a split of a second his face bathed in the warmth of the outcoming air. And so the spell has been casted. He exhaled and pulled the handle.

The café greeted him with glow and coziness, as expected. Smells impressed and overwhelmed simultaneously, standing out individually and mixing together into a rich festival of flavor. Rick shrinked, he might have lost a good foot in height. He knew perfectly well that glow and coziness cost money, and considerable money it is, almost like the love and affection of a woman. At least that’s what he has ever known.

Several visitors checked him out. Everyone looked like they belong here, except for Rick of course. What a stupid situation: it’s awkward to sit down now, and even more awkward to walk out. He pushed past several tables to the very corner and drained to chair. A young blonde waitress put the menu in front of him.

‘Could I just get an americano for now, please?’ Rick asked, without consulting the menu for a price. As soon as the waitress stepped away he began to hastily turn the pages. And here it is: almost at the very end. 9.90 for a cup. Nine ninety and she didn’t even smile at me, the guy thought sadly.

He put down the menu and looked out the window. Passers-by, passers-by, passers-by. They are rushing about, all business, all buried in their expensive smartphones for a thousand bucks apiece! When everything they need from their devices could easily be done with some cheap Chinese gadget for a hundred dollars. Ninety-nine, Rick corrected himself. We live in a world divided by capitalist corporations, there is not a hundred bucks. There are ninety-nine, nine hundred ninety-nine, nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine…

The waitress returned. The coffee looked excellent and smelled accordingly.

‘Ready to order?’ she asked. A small black notebook in her hand was at the ready. But he didn’t order anything of course, just as she expected.

Ha, can’t even get an extra word out of her for a 9.90, thought Rick, burying his face in his hands, just a nod. It is as if we are no longer people, as if hormones and chemistry in our blood are triggered by green papers, and not by the look of one eye into another…

‘Excuse me.’ A man with brown leather briefcase was standing at the table in front of the guy. ‘Can I sit down?’

‘Of course,’ Rick replied, frowning. Maybe this is the way it works in such places? The man sat down across and Rick pulled his coffee away from him, put two lumps of sugar in and began to stir.

‘Don’t be surprised’ the man’s face crossed by several wrinkles illuminated a warm smile. ‘I have some business with you.’

Rick raised his eyebrows ‘really?’. ‘I think you have mistaken me for someone else.’

The man shook his head no. ‘You see, I am very well aware of your, so to speak… difficulties.’ He leaned forward so that only Rick could hear him: ‘I mean money.’

The guy looked around. No, there seems to be no cameraman anywhere. Maybe they are filming him from further down the street?

‘Is this some kind of prank?’

‘Absolutely not,’ the man raised both hands, surrendering to truce. ‘Actually, I want to help.’ His face was so sincere and pure that it took a lot of work for Rick not to trust him.

‘Do you have a job for me?’

‘No’ the man said and looked away for a moment. ‘I want to buy something from you.’

‘Ha, what is it? How do you know I have it?’

‘I can see it on you.’

The man made a smooth motion with his hand, and snapped his fingers. Is he trying to hypnotize me? thought Rick. ‘Look in the right back pocket of your trousers,’ the man said.

What are these tricks?

Rick ran his fingers into the pocket and groped something that was not there before. He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper–a hundred-dollar bill.

‘How did you put it there? When?’ Rick asked, examining the bill. No, it doesn’t seem like a fake.

‘I only need one second for this,’ the man answered and snapped his fingers again, ‘like that. Check the left pocket now.’

Rick reached for the second hundred. What a lucky café visit!

‘And what did you buy from me?’ he asked.

‘So far nothing,’ the man answered. ‘I need your consent for the purchase I want to make. And this little trick… well, just take it as a proof that I am willing to pay.’

Rick nodded and put the money in the inside pocket of his jacket. Let’s see what he needs, maybe I can get more than a couple hundred out of him. Crazy old bastard.

‘What I will say now may seem strange to you,’ the man said, ‘but promise me that you won’t leave until you hear it.’

Pretending to think, Rick said: ‘Okay.’ He was definitely staying.

‘I need the last day of your life.’

‘What?.. Man, have you taken your pills today?’

‘It’s not a joke. I need the last day of your life. You have paid almost 10 bucks for this coffee, expensive, right? Double that and multiply by a thousand. 20,000 dollars for just one day. Sign the paper and money is yours.’

‘And… what does that mean?’ Rick asked.

‘This means that you will simply die exactly twenty-four hours earlier than your due date, that’s all. And when your due is–no one knows. How old are you now, twenty-five?’

The guy nodded yes.

‘You are still young,’ the man’s eyes suddenly brightened. ‘You need to have fun. Probably, for the sake of a tidy sum it is worth sacrificing one day, don’t you think? This is not so much in comparison to the whole life that’s ahead of you, especially if you think how many working days it will take you to earn that sum, working days that you can technically count out from your life as they won’t allow you to enjoy anything.’

‘Yes,’ Rick agreed, ‘you can sacrifice a couple of days for that.’

The man reached his hand out for a handshake.

‘You’re crazy,’ Rick laughed. ‘Are you serious?! No, you’re crazy, you won’t give me twenty thousand dollars!’

The man snapped his fingers. Rick suddenly felt something move under his jacket–on the left side.

‘Check your inside pocket,’ said the man with his eyes sparkling. Looked like he himself got a lot of pleasure from doing such lovely business–beneficial for both.

Rick thrust his hand in, felt a dense stack of sheets and peered in.

‘This is an advance,’ said the man. ‘This is exactly half the amount. The second half will follow after signing the paper.’

Rick looked around to make sure no one was watching, and pulled a thick bundle of banknotes out to get a better look. I have ten thousand in my hands now? For doing nothing?!

He stared at the man and asked in all seriousness: ‘Are you the devil?’ In all seriousness the man replied: ‘No.’ Then he added a little impatiently: ‘Shall we sign the paper?’

‘Of course!’ Rick looked up from the money.

‘Okay,’ the man took a sheet of paper and a pen out from his briefcase, and pushed them over to the guy, ‘it says here everything I have already told you. No dirty tricks, pitfalls, conditions in small print, you are not selling your soul, only the time.

Rick nodded and signed. The signature looked awkward against the impeccable handwriting of the man but neither cared about. The man snapped his fingers the last time. ‘The remainder,’ he explained, ‘nine thousand eight hundred.’

The second inner pocket became heavier. Rick didn’t even bother checking, he knew they were there. He knew that he now had twenty thousand dollars in cash–that much he had never had at a time.

‘What now?’ he asked senselessly.

‘Now,’ the man answered, ‘I have to go.’

He got to his feet and took his briefcase. Rick got up too, and together they walked to the exit. Passing by the waitress, they both thought: I’ll come back for you later.

‘What will you spend your money on if this, of course, is not a secret?’

Rick shrugged.

‘I don’t even know yet.’

‘Well… I think you will find a worthy use for them,’ said the man and shook Rick’s hand goodbye.

Lord, what an air! Even the evil fall wind doesn’t hurt as much when you have a decent amount of money in your pocket! I can finally start my life! Wait till Harry hears about this, he will crack his own skull open from jealousy.

Rick inhaled deeply, and, spreading into a blissful smile, began to cross the road. In the next split of a second a taxi driver distracted by a text ran into a pedestrian at a high speed. The brakes roared, somebody yelled out unidentifiable sounds. The blow of the car was so strong that all the content of the jacket flew out. The eyewitnesses gathered in a circle, trying to help the victim. Dead man, some thought, starring uneasy at money being carried away by the wind along the sidewalks, unsure whether it’s appropriate to run after and pick them up.