Return On Investment

Jeremy never had trouble finding his zen on the job. Embedded in every photoshoot was an obligatory wave of chaos and, from fussy toddlers to snarling bridezillas on a warpath, he gracefully surfed them all. Through client or cacophony, he could always zero in on the gentle hum of photography lights and achieve nirvana within the white noise. “I want it to be tasteful, you know?” said Silas, “Something that says I get off my yacht one leg at a time.”

Today was the exception. Silas was the one client capable of raiding Jeremy’s occupational nirvana while concurrently giving the Buddha a wedgie for kicks. The rancid scent of privileged frat boy hovered around Silas’ 5”4 frame like cheap cologne. “Nothing too flashy,” said Silas, adjusting his fake Rolex.

“Right, right,” said Jeremy, “and this is supposed to be your Linkedin photo?”

“Well, yes, partially,” said Silas, “but I brought different outfits for my headshot, my Instagram, and, if these kids clear out, I can squeeze in a few for my Onlyfans.”

Instead of arranging for a professional suite, Silas had hastily booked a family-friendly photo studio in a strip mall. Between a horrified family of four and teddy bear patterned walls, sat Silas’ replica throne, a passel of plastic infused bikini models, and a camera-wielding entourage. “So, why is there a second film crew,” asked Jeremy.

“To film the behind the scenes for my YouTube channel,” said Silas, “You never know when something is gonna go viral. I thought you were supposed to be a professional.” Angrily grabbing his toy scepter, Silas stormed past Jeremy towards the entrance.

The front door chimed as a statuesque beauty queen elegantly sashayed into the establishment to greet Silas. “Sorry, I’m late, baby,” said the ravishing angel, “The meeting with Guillermo ran a little long,”

Bending at a ninety-degree angle to lock lips with her diminutive boyfriend, the couple was more akin to a geometric pairing than a romantic one. “Again, with this Guillermo guy,” said Silas.

Guiding her past the disapproving faces of the miffed mothers in attendance, Silas escorted his leggy beau towards the gaudy altar of his ego. “Guillermo's not interested in your music, Amanda,” said Silas, “He wants to date you. Which is why I need you here.”

Digging through his suitcase of outfits, Silas began to manically hurl clothes on the floor. “If I want people to hire and respect me, I need them to know my girlfriend is hot. It’s a primal thing.” Bowled over by the frankness of his statement, Amanda began to blush. Jeremy rolled his eyes and kept vainly groping for his displaced zen. “So, I need you to take this shoot seriously,” said Silas, “here, put on this bikini and stand next to the teddy bears.”

Holding the skimpy swimwear between two fingers, Amanda finally noticed the bevy of lightly clothed women wandering around. “Who are all these girls?” she asked.

“Oh, you were taking too long, so I put out a call for some replacement girlfriends,” said Silas.

“Replacement girlfriends?” asked Amanda

Reading the sadness in her response, Silas attempted to salvage his clumsy phrasing. “Oh, no, no, baby, this is just for the shoot. No one can take your place in real life.”

Amanda couldn’t help but swoon. “But on set, you’re gonna have to work for it,” said Silas. “Marisol got here first and she has a SAG card.”

***

The faint growl of an argument outside, slightly muffled by the glass door of the studio, transformed the remaining patrons to spectators. “I just feel like I’m the only one who’s fully invested in this relationship,” cried Amanda.

“That’s not true. After I take care of all the stuff matters, you get 100 percent of my attention,” said Silas.

“See, that’s what I mean. You can’t focus on one thing at a time. Like, first you’re a cryptocurrency investor -”

“I’m still a cryptocurrency investor. That’s my side hustle.”

“Then you’re a marketer - -”

“That’s my side gig.”

“Then you’re a YouTuber - -”

“That’s my side, side hustle to promote my side gig.”

“And you barely make time for Uber anymore.”

“That’s just my ‘job’. That’s not important.”

Amanda clutched her head, running her fingers through her auburn tresses, as a faint sheen of tears caused her eyes to glisten. “Even on the set, you can’t choose me first.”

She lowered her eyes, in hopes of hiding them from Silas. “I feel like you just use me for when I’m convenient.”

He heard enough. If Silas knew anything, he knew when it was time to reassure his woman. “Baby, come here, let’s stop fighting,” said Silas, pulling his lover into an embrace.

Slowly, Amanda’s anger began to settle. “This is silly,” said Silas, “’cause we only have the space for another hour. You’re still covering everything, right?”

***

“It’s her loss,” said Silas, “I mean, who does she think she is kicking me out of our apartment? I was just about to start helping her out with rent.”

Although congruent to his stature, Silas resented having to settle such an impish motel room. Awkwardly tiptoeing around the Glad trash bags that housed his possessions, he discovered that pacing the limited length of his lodging caused more frustration than it fixed. “She’ll see,” he said, “when I blow up, she’ll come crawling back. Matter of fact, if I never see her again it’ll be too - -”

Silas’ phone began ping with activity. He scrolled through his notifications and began to tremble. “No way,” said Silas, as he followed the link to a financial news site.

Sprawled across the top of the page was the expanded version of the truncated headline he received in text. “Arrow coin surges in the wake of stock prank,” said Silas, reading aloud. “Price per coin valued at - - $20,000!”

Among his many “investments” – which essentially meant any get rich quick scheme that extended beyond two months- Silas had purchased a single Arrow coin. Buried under the weighty memories of innumerable pyramid schemes and online scams, was the tattered recollection of buying the fringe cryptocurrency. Silas cackled like a supervillain for twenty minutes while consuming the story.

***

“What do you mean ‘wrong password’,” shouted Silas.

After entering another fruitless jumble of letters and numbers into his phone, Silas was practically frothing from rage. “These are the password I use for everything!”

He envisioned himself smashing the motel room, but realized he would need the very money he couldn’t access to cover the damages. “Ok, Ok,” said Silas, “Let’s just think about this. If it’s not one of my saved passwords, I must’ve written it down somewhere.”

Spiraling from his lips, the sentence yanked a memory from the cobwebbed corridors of his mind. Silas pictured himself laying on Amanda’s lap scribbling into a black notebook.

Within seconds, the viscera of the varied trash bags were strewn across the motel floor. Hunched like an arthritic dentist, Silas poured an investigative eye over every item he owned. He knew the answer but didn’t want to admit it. Collapsing to the floor, Silas reluctantly oozed the book’s location through gritted teeth. “Amanda has my notebook.”

The claim was equally true and false. The notebook was indeed in Amanda’s possession because it was, in fact, hers. Falling in line with his typical behavior, Silas would frequently pilfer Amanda’s book of lyrics to literally scribble over her dreams. “Doesn’t she have any respect?” asked Silas.

***

Initially flooded with trepidation, once the window to Amanda’s apartment shattered, Silas subsequently surged with the giddy energy that powers poor decisions. “We could have done this civilly,” whispered Silas, “but she had to block my number.”

Once inside, the powerful aroma that always accompanied Amanda hit Silas’ nose to briefly summon some sentiment before his greed hit it with a garrote. It was a simple mission. Meandering was unnecessary, he knew what he was after. Arriving at Amanda’s closet, he was shocked to find several identical black notebooks.

“C’mon,” said Silas, “how many notebooks do you need? Is it really that hard to remember pop lyrics? they’re supposed to be catchy.”

Swiftly thumbing through her books, Silas found his name, reverently mentioned, as a motif throughout the journals. Never one to avoid even the faintest praise, he leisurely poured over the pages. “Holy crap,” said Silas, “these are pretty good.”

Lost in the rhapsody of her lyrics, Silas started to regret letting Amanda go. Seeing an accurate reflection of his presumed greatness, vividly mirrored in lyrics, made him reconsider what he lost. Amanda was truly invested in him. Absorbed in the revelation, Silas didn’t hear the front door open.

“Hello?” bellowed a strange voice. “Who’s there?”

Forgetting that he was the intruder, Silas grabbed a letter opener from Amanda’s desk to defend himself. “Who are you?” he asked. “’cause I live here.”

The door to Amanda’s room flung open to reveal a woman in her mid-sixties wielding a stun gun. “No, my daughter Amanda lives here,” said the woman.

Frequently declining to meet Amanda’s mother, marking the prospect as “boring”, Silas took the woman at her word. “Are you - -you’re Mrs. Calder?” asked Silas.

Shocked by the depth of his knowledge, Mrs. Calder trained the stun gun with malicious intent. “You better tell me who you are and how you know my name.”

Silas dropped his weapon reflexively. “I’m Silas. I’m Amanda’s boyfriend.”

“Amanda broke up with Silas.”

“Well, we’re kinda on a break.”

“So why are you breaking in?”

“’Cause we broke up.”

Existing in her purse on a purely theoretical basis, the taser felt foreign in Donna Calder’s pacifistic hands. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Prove it. When’s Amanda’s birthday?”

“Oof,” said Silas, “heavy artillery right out of the gate, huh? Uh - -pass.”

“’ Pass’,” said Donna, “This isn’t a game show.”

“Nah, give me an easy one.”

“Give you an easy question to prove your identity?”

“Yeah, like when a computer asks ‘what’s your mother’s maiden name’.”

“Ok, what’s my maiden name?”

“How am I supposed to know? I meant my mom.”

Donna adjusted her battle stance, wiping her sweaty forehead on her outstretched arm. “Fine,” she said, “what’s was Amanda’s first dog named?”

“Uh - -” said Silas.

“She uses it as her music name,”

“Uh - -Pass?”

Given Amanda’s unintentionally unflattering description of Silas, Donna figured that the intruder was probably telling the truth. She fired the stun gun without hesitation.

***

Parting his eyes, Silas awoke to the alternating red and blue hue of police lights on the wall. He attempted to stand but felt encumbered by a curious weight on the small of his back. A police officer was kneeling on his spine while applying handcuffs. “Silas,” said Amanda “what were you thinking?”

“Amanda, thank God,” said Silas, “tell them it’s me.”

“I did tell them because I’m pressing charges.”

“What? I just came to get my notebook back.”

“You mean my notebook?”

“The notebook, whatever. It’s got my password for Arrow coin. It’s at $20,000 a coin!”

Amanda paused to think. “Arrow coin? No, I’m the one that bought the Arrow coin.”

“What?” asked Silas.

“You couldn’t afford it, remember? I bought it for you. I got like sixty of them.”

“Then what did I write in my notebook?”

“You mean my notebook.”

“The notebook, whatever.”

“You wrote me an IOU. Is it really $20,000 a coin?”

***

Silas writhed and squirmed as the burly officers carted him to their car. “Seriously, Amanda, I really love you,” Silas shouted, “I’m all in, babe. I’m invested!”

Rapt in the spectacle of the tiny man bellowing absurd claims and threats, two teens watched as Silas made a fool of himself. “Are you filming this dude,” said one of the teens.

With his phone already engaged, the other teen simply nodded. “C’mon, man, I’m basically a professional. You never know when something gonna go viral.”