"No all money is good money? What about my money?"
@runest
men dangle money like bait. like an angler fish at the bottom of the ocean, like a bottom feeder scrambling for bits. women dangle money like bait as well but this isn’t about women this is about men. this is about men and how their dirty money is still respected money. this is about men and how all money is good money because it’s their money. this is about how money is a window to the soul. money that sees broken souls cracked under the pressure of life, strained souls drained of their virtue and cleansed souls that are the fortunate and the few.
men dangle their money so easily now that a penny for thoughts has become a dollop of character. this isn’t judgement day and mina isn’t exactly a saint but she could place herself in whatever category she wished. she could be the head atop the pedestal or the hand chopping it down.
in her line of work she sees it all. she’s seen money dangled before her for primal indulgence. that’s what she did, she catered to vices. she could be a devil’s dealer. she sang siren songs and let men drown in their desires. it wasn’t intentional. the money she gets is just as dirty as but mina has a way of wearing it without weight. see she lets the men teeter right towards the edge before she finally refuses the push. she’d rather be the temptress than the dealer playful rather than responsible.
jack? the sins of his money don’t stick to him. she smells it on him sometimes and sees it on him in other times. she lets it rub off on her fingers when she’s paying careful attention but it never sticks to him. there’s something about those boys with a touch of angel in them. mina thinks that sometimes he wants it to stick, not like battle armor but more like badges. the difference is one is for war one is for show.
“no one who comes in here has good money jacky boy.” she says it with amusement on her smile, she says it fondly instead of bitterly and she says it with acceptance.
some days mina tries to wash her hands clean of the souls she’s drowned. that’s when she declines his money. “so does this money have a story,” some days she collects and collects and closes her eyes to it. on those days she’ll take it. “choose your words carefully or this margarita is mine.”
