Chapter Thirty

Phil headed down the hallway to Annie’s condo door. He had already forgotten all about Dee Dee. It was kind of amazing. Soon he’d get his hip operation and he’d be a new man. Hell, he was still young, and he could hire lawyers that would keep her from getting one red cent.

He’d keep all the money from the business, and he’d be available for women who appreciated him, great-looking pert-breasted women like Annie.

But not just Annie. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He was going to have many women, the more the merrier. White women, Indian women, Chinese women, Thai women—oh, man, just the thought of Thai women—every kind of woman he could imagine. Because he was going to travel, seek out all kinds of new sexual adventures.

To hell with one woman. To hell with all that “I thee wed” crap.

He was going to be a swinging dude!

And he was starting right fucking now, baby!

He rang the doorbell to Room 101. Inside he could hear Sinatra singing “Young at Heart.” Perfect, ‘cause that’s what he was going to be from now on.

Young at heart, baby. You bet!

The door opened and there was Annie. Dressed in a tight sweater and skinny jeans, she looked like a million bucks.

“Hey, there, Phil,” she said. “Come on in.”

He walked inside and saw a bunch of other guests hanging out, talking animatedly. They were eating caviar and drinking champagne from a wet bar that was in the corner across the room.

Annie made eyes at Phil and he felt the delicious sliver of sexual longing throughout his body.

This, he thought, was more like it.

“This is great,” Phil said. “Fantastic.”

She kissed him on the cheek, a lingering kiss that gave him chills down his neck.

“Have some champagne,” she said. “Then there are some guests I want you to meet.”

She led him toward the bar. There was a very pretty barmaid, part Mexican, named Sylvia. A barmaid who smiled at him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Hell, he thought. He was as attractive as ever.

Unlike that guy over in the corner. The old guy with so many rings of flesh hanging off his neck that he looked like one of those redwood trees. Each ring must stand for twenty years, which, from the look of him, would make him at least 150 years old.

And the woman he was with? She looked like a weed in a dress.

Why, the two of them reminded him of so many people he used to, well, best not to think about all that.

The lawsuits, and the anger, and the half-crazed relatives coming to harass him . . .

No, best to have this lovely glass of Perrier-Jouët and think about now . . . now and the future.

All that old-folks unpleasantness was in the past.

As his shrink had told him just last month, before he and Dee Dee had won a prize to come down to Blue Wolf for a week, all expenses paid, he had survived the serious ugliness and was a happy, happy man.

He drank the bubbly and smiled. Yes, sir, this was going to be quite a night.

Now Annie was refilling his glass, and Phil started to protest but then thought better of it. Why not? Why the hell not?

Annie smiled at him. God, she had a bright, white-toothed grin.

Phil hadn’t really noticed it before, but her teeth actually glowed with good health.

It was pretty incredible. You couldn’t tell just what the hell age she was. She might have had some work done, as they said, but he couldn’t be sure.

Not that he was at all against her if she had. Who wanted to look old, like the two ancient geeks in the corner who were still looking over and smiling at him, like they were in love with him or something . . . Or was it more than that? Those smiles seemed almost knowing. Yeah, isn’t that what they called it in books? “Knowing smiles.”

But that was ridiculous. What could those two old crocks know anyway?

Nada. Nothing. Zero.

He walked into the other room and started meeting people.

Young, attractive people. Annie’s friends. Some great-looking women, too.

This was his new scene. No question about it. Youth, vigor, and action.

That was what the new Philly was all about.