Chapter Seven

As they stood at the Piñon Bar at Blue Wolf Lodge, Phil watched as Dee Dee turned to speak to Ziko, the part Japanese, part Apache (or so he said) tennis instructor. A huge guy with black hair and a ponytail who had once been one of the top twenty players in the world, Ziko was sidling up to Dee Dee with something more than tennis on his mind.

Phil watched as Ziko put his arm around Dee Dee's shoulder and pulled her close to him.

I bet you could really become a pretty player, Ziko said.

Not as pretty as you, Dee Dee smiled.

Phil drank his vodka and tonic, and tried to act nonchalant.

“I'd teach you how to follow through on your shots. The thing is, you have to get down low.”

“Like this?” the slightly bombed Dee Dee asked.

She knelt down in front of him in a way that no tennis player ever did.

“That's almost it,” Ziko said, “but you'd have to bend your knees a little more.”

Phil stepped forward and landed on Ziko's heel. Ziko squealed in pain.

“Ahhh,” he whined. “You hurt my Achilles tendon!”

“Sorry,” Phil said, in his most affable voice. “I must be some kind of clumsy oaf.”

“You son of a bitch,” Ziko cried.

Phil smiled as the black-haired Adonis hopped up and down on his right foot.

“Horribly careless of me, son,” Phil said. “Guess I must have had a little too much of the old vino.”

Dee Dee looked horrified. She put her arm around Ziko's wide shoulders and shook her head.

He's just a drunken slob who don't know what he's doing, honey, she whispered.

“Christ, my heel. I have to teach.”

Seems like you were using your mouth, pal, Phil said.

Dee Dee looked at Phil and shook her head violently.

“Gee, drunk and out of control. What a shocker.”

Ziko massaged his Achilles as Phil grabbed Dee Dee's arm and dragged her out of the bar.

They walked drunkenly down the hallway. Phil was hoping Dee Dee was all finished giving him shit but apparently she was just warming up.

“You made me look like a fool.”

“You don't need me to do that, baby. You have that down all on your own.”

They wandered on down the corridor, unable to speak at all for fear of sounding like angry fools.

On the elevator, Phil began to feel a slight tinge of remorse.

“Baby, how did it ever come to this? I thought that when I sold the business we'd be free. Man, I even remember a time you got nervous if I was twenty minutes late coming home. And now look at us.”

Phil sighed, overwhelmed with melancholy. But Dee Dee only scowled at him.

“Well, maybe if you'd give me a little freedom instead of trying to put me in a freaking cell all the time it would be different.”

Phil shook his head.

“Freedom? I used to know what that meant. Or thought I did. Let's just go back to the room, baby.”

“Great,” Dee Dee said. “You wouldn't want to miss a chance for another of your three-hour snore-a-thons, would you?”

Phil had a sudden impulse to grab his wife by the throat and start choking her. He barely managed to restrain himself. He felt a rage that shot through his body and seemed to singe what was left of his brain.

This was it, he thought. Getting older, a success, and these were going to be the highly touted golden years.

Christ, Christ, Christ.