Yes, a lot, but especially his ex.

James' phone started blowing up. Not from anyone, but the finance app he used. Suddenly his bank account was overdrawn, and he was over his limit on his credit card. He didn't have a huge limit, but he paid the card off at the end of every month. It was like his financial situation plummeted the second he said he could never afford a night on the town. "What the hell? That can't be right. I couldn't have been hacked, could I? I've saved some money." he said to himself. The messages on his app disappeared. He looked through his accounts. There was the little bit of money he had saved, and there was his credit card balance, just a shade over 60 bucks. Must be a system glitch or something

He was so focused on his phone that he didn't even notice his friend had taken the time to start complaining about everything possible in his life. "... really like a French dip sandwich right now, the dinner I had tonight was really lame. My knee still hurts from my injury last year. I'm not going to make it to the major leagues, and I'm afraid that a psychology degree is going to be useless unless I go to grad school, and I really don't want to go to grad school. Beckah broke up with me and I'm so lonely; this entire strip club thing is my attempt to mask my hurt feelings and project the idea that I've gotten over it..." It was quick and unemotional, like Chuck wanted to get everything off his chest. When someone with omnipotence tells you that if you want anything, just ask, you end up asking for a lot.

"Whoa, whoa, dude, what? What the hell is this?" James said, looking up from the phone, holding his hand up to get his friend to stop. "Beckah broke up with you? That fucking whore!" In James' opinion, Beckah, whom Chuck had been dating since college scouts started sniffing around in high school, was a gold digger, and he was happy to throw her under the bus.

Chuck shook himself, like he was breaking out of a trance or jerking himself awake. "I don't know what that was," he said. He shifted uncomfortably. Yes, Beckah had taken to escorting to try make ends meet and keep her debt load down, but James didn't know that. Besides, the preferred nomenclature was sex worker, as Beckah taught him. "You shouldn't call her that."

James held up a hand, "Sorry, sorry, I'm sure she's great," and the under his breath, "a great whore." He cleared his throat, "I'm sure you'll be back together soon, and this will be water under the bridge."

James put a hand on Chuck's shoulder, "You're good, right? You're okay. You want to go to the Pussy Palace and we're gonna have a good time, right?"