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once again at the ocean in front of me.
    “I can see how it might be. Let me tell you a little about me,” Kenton said as he lowered himself into an overstuffed burgundy velvet chair.
    He looked around the room as if everything in it was new to him. Slowly, he took every viewable inch of the home into his path of sight. As Downes entered the room with food and beverages, Kenton sighed lightly and nodded in his direction. After leaving the tray containing the food onto a large coffee table positioned between Kenton and me, Downes quietly exited the room.
    “My wealth. I didn’t deserve it. Hell, I don’t deserve it now , but I have it. I suspect because I have lived on the other side of the wealthy, and have earned all of what is before you, it allows me to keep myself in check. I don’t take my wealth, life, or people for granted,” he hesitated and reached for one of the glasses of water.
    “At least not now . I appreciate all of what I have and what people offer me from my exposure to them. Don’t get me wrong,” he paused and turned to face me.
    “I enjoy this ,” he motioned in my direction and opened his arms toward the room.
    “I graduated college and worked in architecture for about ten years. I lived below my means, but appeared - at least on the surface - to be wealthy. I drove a ten year old luxury car, but I kept it spotless. I leased a condo in Old Town. I dressed well. People assumed I had money.  I allowed them to assume what they assumed, and I used it to my advantage. I manipulated women, had sex with anyone who would allow me to, and never once fell in love. My love, I can easily admit now, was money. My only concern, Parker, was how people perceived me,” he shook his head lightly and took a drink from his glass.
    “Their perception, albeit an inaccurate one, allowed me to become a horrible person. I cared about nothing and no one but myself. Well, myself and money. I appeared wealthy, worked like a slave, and saved every penny I could. At around that ten year mark, I got an investment tip from a friend on a particular stock. What is now Sirius XM Radio,” he stood from his chair, walked toward the windowed wall, and gazed out at the ocean.
    “It was 1997. I invested everything I had saved based on this tip. The tip proved to be an accurate one, and through investing, reinvesting, and having the stock split multiple times, I made tens of millions. The money I earned allowed me to make additional investments, and in turn, more money. The money, at least initially, allowed me to become a monster,” he said over his shoulder as he continued to peer through the glass.
    “I continued to be concerned with nothing and no one but money and myself. The money became a means.  I was now able to be the person people had always perceived me to be. I picked women up in clubs, lied to them, wined them, dined them, and had sex with them. I’d immediately move on to another and start over. It was as if I was in some type of contest with myself, and my measure of my success had become fucking various women,” he paused, still staring out the window, and took a shallow breath.
    “So, one day not too many years ago, Downes and I were eating in a restaurant. It was right after he returned from Afghanistan and went to work for me, 2005 I believe. The woman sitting beside us in the restaurant was alone and attractive, so naturally we began to talk. Through the course of talking I learned she had been a victim of sorts,” he placed his hands on his hips, hesitated and looked upward.
    “One night in a bar in Mission Hills, she met a man. One thing led to another, and they ended up at her place. She said he convinced her he had tremendous interest in her as a person and a potential mate. Destiny, he told her. Soul mates or some other ridiculous shit, I don’t recall. At any rate, that night, they had sex. Her efforts to contact the man after that first night were unsuccessful, he provided her with a fake