“If you had one last day on earth, and a million dollars to spend on that day, how would you spend it?”

“The money or the day?”

“Both. How would you spend your last day on earth and how would you spend a million dollars.”

Helena rolled her eyes and laughed. Her friend had no idea how ironic her question was.

“Ok, ok,” Elaine smirked. “I know damned well that you’re used to blowing enough money to buy a small country—within an hour, much less a day. But you’re down and out now, right? So what would it be—given this new perspective that you have on life—how would you really and truly live it up, in the scenario which I have proposed?”

Elaine was a little bit drunk on tequila. One of Helena’s oldest friends, Elaine was always game for a good time.

Three days of illness, after weeks of moping about, had finally pushed Helena over the edge. Fuck her depression, or whatever it was. She had earned the goddamned money she stole. She was on the run, only there were no cops in sight, no cheesy car chases. She was laying low, with no responsibilities and a big pile of spare change. 

The first thing she did, once she was well again, was to buy herself a new outfit. Nothing too fancy, but she did look killer in tight jeans, high boots, and a black, form fitting shirt, cut low enough to show off her curves. She phoned Elaine, and they were off for a night on the town.

They wanted to avoid the clubs for the time being.  So they parked Elaine’s vintage Mercedes (a present from Helena, once upon a time) and opened a bottle of tres expensive Cognac which they drank with paper cups.  They sat on the roof of Elaine’s car, reminiscing and ruminating.  

“Ok, I would…rent a really expensive car, something gorgeous, and I’d drive to the countryside. No, wait, I can’t spend any money there,” Helena was overcome with a fit of laughter. “Ok, scratch that. Fuck the countryside. Well, I mean not really. But I have to do something…shit, I’d go to New York, pick up my kids, and take them…”