When Jack got home he opened a bottle of wine and slumped down in the sofa.  Very soon he was on the harder stuff.

“Well, Jack, you imbecile,” he said to himself, the words filling the empty house.  “Well done.” He raised the glass to the image of himself in the mirror.  “Well done,” he repeated.  “You took the one innocent, sweet thing in your life, the one thing that hadn’t all gone to shit and you defiled it.”

He walked around the house as if in conversation with someone unseen.

“The one thing that might have saved you, and you fucked her.  Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

He put the glass down on a table and wiped his brow.

“And what will she think of you now?  She think you are a freak.  A dirty freak.”

Jack poured himself another drink.  “And she’d be right about that.  Because that’s what you are.”

He picked up his phone and dialled.  “Well,” he said, “you’re a freak, might as well hang out with the freaks.”

“Talking to yourself, stranger?”

“Chelsea,” Jack said.  “How’s my freaky-pie?”

“How’s your new girlfriend?”

Jack laughed.  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?  Didn’t I tell you, it was just some PR thing.”

“You said taking flowers to the hospital.  I didn’t realize you had to bag her too.”

“Come on!  Seriously?  Can you imagine me banging that sack of spuds?  You know you’re the one who’s got what I need.”

“Well, Jackie-boy, I’m afraid things move on.”

“Oh, shit,” said Jack.  “You’re not out with some half-wit footballer, are you?  You know he’ll only get you home so you can see who’s got the best leg waxing.”

Chelsea laughed.  “He is kind of dull.  But I’m not sure what you’ve got to offer me anymore.”

“Ask your boyfriend what a sugarloaf cabochon sapphire is.  Don’t bother, he won’t know.  But there’s one waiting for you here.”

“Interesting.  Anything else.”

“Some first-class cocaine and outrageously good sex.  Hop in a taxi.”

Jack put down the phone and took another gulp of his drink.

It was only twenty minutes before Chelsea rang the doorbell.  She must really want that sapphire, thought Jack and climbed down to his cellar for a bottle of champagne.

It was polite of her to ring when she could have just let herself in.  Still, she wasn’t a bad girl, not a bad girl at all.  

When he came back up she was standing in the kitchen.  Damn, thought Jack, she looked good.  She looked like a young woman should.

“How do you keep your skin looking so good?” he asked for no reason.

“Clean living.”

“Clean living,” repeated Jack, swaying slightly.  “What’s that?”

Chelsea laughed like honey.  “You’re drunk,” she said.  “Good.”  She looked at the bottle.  “I hope that’s good champagne.”

“What do you know about champagne?” he asked.

“What do you know?”

“A little, but if it’s more than the person I’m talking to, I can pretend that it’s a lot.”

“I normally judge a bottle by its price,” said Chelsea.

Jack nodded.  “I expect you do.”

“So, how much did that cost you?”

Jack lifted the bottle and gazed unsteadily at the label.  “Four figures.  Most probably.”

Chelsea sniffed.  “It will do.”

Jack opened the bottle and took two glasses from a cupboard and they sat on stools by the breakfast bars.  Chelsea did her make-up, for no reason that Jack could possibly see.

“Nice legs,” said Jack.

“Thanks.”

“Very strong thigh muscles.  Good for gripping.”  He poured the champagne.   “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” said Chelsea, still doing her make-up.

Jack drank the champagne.  It was very good.  Or he imagined it was very good, it was difficult to tell after all that he had drunk.

“So,” he said, “how are you?”

“What?” said Chelsea, putting down her mirror.

“How are you?”

She looked at him as if he were speaking Sanskrit.  

“I’ve been out to a sushi restaurant with a guy who would have been happier eating fried chicken in a hot tub.  But he bought me a ring.”  She raised a finger to show Jack the ring.  “Bit gaudy, I know.  We got photographed leaving together.  So, I suppose that’s alright.”

“Excellent,” said Jack.

“And now I’m here and you’re going to give me a sapphire and some coke and we’ll have sex the Jack way.  That’s how I am.”

They looked at each other for a moment and she looked suddenly very young to him and he wondered if he looked the same to her.

“The Jack way?” he said.

“You know, the way you like it.”

“And you like it too.”

She smiled and took a sip of her wine.  “You’ve got a lot of energy for busy man.”

“You bet I have,” he winked.  

“And some moves.”

“I’ve got some tricks,” he acknowledged, nodding quite seriously.  “We dogs have them.”

“Just the tricks,” said Chelsea.  “I don’t want the ticks.”

“And the drugs, of course,” said Jack.  

Chelsea drank some champagne.  “Yes,” she agreed.  “Maybe the best drugs.”

Jack stroked his chin, thoughtfully.  It was true, he got good Charlie.  

“Are we going to break it out then?” asked Chelsea, getting visibly anxious.  

“Champagne first,” said Jack, raising his class, “then coke.”

“Then sex?”

Jack nodded.  “Things in the correct order,” he said.  “That’s the secret to living a good life.”

“On here?” asked Chelsea, patting the breakfast bar.

“Yes,” said Jack.  “I don’t see why not.”

When Jack awoke he found himself on the sofa.  He could hear Chelsea moving around. He failed to get himself to a standing position until the taxi was waiting outside with the horn blaring.  

Chelsea rushed out of the door and yelled something to him as she went.  Jack watched her shimmy to the taxi. God damn, he thought.  She was good.  He couldn’t live without her, that was the truth.  He had been stupid to try.

He noticed Chelsea had taken the sapphire and there seemed to be some cash missing from his wallet.  Well, he wouldn’t miss it too much.

Jack padded to the kitchen and found an aspirin.  Standing by the kitchen window, his thoughts turned to Rainn.  He would have to leave her.  Completely.  He knew that.  But, still.  Would it do any harm to see her just one more time?