He moves his head closer to hers and whispers, “A real man doesn’t have to use a woman. A real man doesn’t have to take from a woman. He can give.”

She begins to touch him. Her hand softly brushes up against his erection.

It’s both pleasing and terrifying.

He enjoys women, but he has never enjoyed intercourse, even with his wife. That warm, wet cleft between a woman’s legs is the entryway to a world he doesn’t understand—a place that reminds him of a black hole that can swallow him if he isn’t careful.

Mark lies on his back. As the woman begins moving her hand, his wife, Gloria, enters his mind, and he starts to lose his erection.

He closes his eyes and tries to push the image of Gloria away, but for some reason she won’t leave.

He stares at the prostitute’s neck, and he thinks of Gloria—all those times he’d grab her and throw her up against the wall when she disobeyed him or questioned something he did. Sometimes he’d spit on her.

Hit her.

His erection returns.

The young woman’s neck is so delicate. He imagines himself snapping it. “It’s easy if you try…”

That makes him giggle.

Makes him think of Lennon across the park in his castle.

But not for long.

He imagines he’s John Lennon and that the woman touching him is Yoko. He sees himself as important because he is important.

And come tomorrow, the whole world will know.

The prostitute slips out of bed and pulls her dress over her head. It’s 3:00 a.m.

“Your dress is the same color that the woman wore for Holden Caulfield,” Mark says. “It’s synchronicity.”

“Who is Holden Caulfield?”

“The main character from The Catcher in the Rye.” He studies her for a moment. “You haven’t read it?”

She shakes her head.

He sighs. So many people don’t read anymore. “It’s a wonderful story about a teenager who goes insane because he can’t cope that there’s no love in the world.”

She stares at him, dumbfounded, maybe even a bit frightened; he’s not sure.

He smiles. “You should read it,” he says as he pays her. “The book holds many answers.”

After she leaves, he grabs his Bible and opens it to the New Testament.

The title “The Gospel According to John” jumps out at him from the page, as if it’s glowing.

He studies the words for what seems like hours. Then he adds Lennon’s name to the page in blood-red ink.

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

I might not give the answer that you want me to.

—“Oh Well”

In August of 1971, John Dean, counsel to the president, had written a memo headed “Dealing with Our Political Enemies,” proposing to Nixon, “We can use the available political machinery to screw our political enemies.”