I assessed her as somewhat older than Madelaine. Not from her physical features alone. I estimated that Madelaine had some age added due to the stresses of living a life of total leisure. She’d started as a creature of genetically created beauty, more than sufficient for her to live on. Then there’d been two pregnancies, giving birth, raising children, keeping up appearances as a mother and a loving spouse, and all through that needing to remain an object of sufficient desire to get the Lexus, the homes, the vacations, and the Moncler jacket. A plain white T-shirt from Moncler was more than $200.

This second woman was, at first glance, a creature more of her own self. Someone who made money. Which, somehow, had aged her less. Her clothes were expensive, but in a different way. They were more assured, less needy, like the woman herself.

All these estimations and valuations were secondary, conducted as autonomic background computations, no matter what was playing on the front screen.

What I was aware of was rage.

And great pleasure in feeling it. I was aroused. I was alive. In a way that I hadn’t felt for years. Energy and power pumping through my arteries. I thought it felt better than love. Maybe because I didn’t imagine love as an available option. Roll on, roll on.

Dealing with these people was dangerous. It was stupid. It was producing rage, justified, valid, well-founded rage. I liked it. So, I displayed it. I offered it up. I ignored the new woman. I addressed Maddie. “How stupid can you be? Every person you add to this mess doubles the risk. You’re gonna do this? With this idiot? Whoever the fuck she is? You’re going to end up doing life without parole. And I’m not. Because I’m not going to have anything to do with you or with it. I’m done. I’m out of here.”

I turned away. I headed back into the woods. Disappearing into the trees.

“Wait,” the other woman called.

I kept going.

“Wait,” she said again. “I have your money.”

CHAPTER SIX

MONEY, HONEY. IF YOU WANT TO GET ALONG WITH ME

“MONEY (THAT’S WHAT I WANT).”

Motown’s first hit. Back in 1959.

The original writing credits went to Berry Gordy, the founder of Motown, Janie Bradford, a songwriter, and Barrett Strong, who sang the first version.

One of the oddities of the music business is that the strongest claim on money, frequently the only claim on money, comes from the copyright, called the publishing rights.

Three years later, Strong’s name was taken off the copyright. Without telling him.

Meanwhile, “Money (That’s What I Want)” was recorded by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kingsmen, Jr. Walker & the All Stars, Jerry Lee Lewis, Freddie and the Dreamers, John Lee Hooker, and the Flying Lizards. Berry Gordy and Janie Bradford got royalties from all those recordings. Barrett Strong didn’t.