Page 7 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

I quickly tossed my suitcase on the bed in the second bedroom and opened it to find my swim trunks and a T-shirt. I changed and applied a little sunscreen, then snatched up my sunglasses, wallet, and cell phone, all the while Mitch hollered from the living area for me to hurry my ass up.

“There are gorgeous women in bikinis up there just waiting for us to buy them a drink.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him as I strolled out of the bedroom. “They’re all yours, man. The only person I’m buying drinks for is myself.”

Mitch scoffed but didn’t say a word as we left the room and headed down the hall toward the elevator.

Ten minutes later, my ass was lounging in a deck chair with a bottle of beer in my hand, watching my friend as he hit on a woman who was wearing one of the smallest bikinis I’d ever seen in my life. I wasn’t surprised that she was a redhead, as Mitch had a thing for them. I laughed to myself as he ordered her a drink, then sat down next to her to continue flirting, his eyes glued to the tits barely covered by two tiny triangles and a piece of string.

Melanie complained that he was a teenaged boy trapped in a middle-aged body, and she wasn’t wrong. He was a lot of fun to hang out with though, and we had almost thirty years of memories together. Besides, there was nothing wrong with not acting your age all the time. Just because we were on the wrong side of forty didn’t mean that we had to behave like boring, old fuckers who had nothing better to do than complain about the weeds growing in our lawns and the high price of gasoline.

I looked around the pool with interest, spotting several famous faces in what was clearly a private VIP section on the far end of the rooftop deck.

Mitch ambled over and flopped down in the lounger next to me, holding an almost empty bottle of beer. I raised my brow questioningly, and he gave me a wry grin.

“Struck out?” I asked, tipping my head toward the redhead who was leaving with several other women.

“Only for the moment. She and her friends have appointments at the spa, so I’ll meet up with her later unless someone else catches my eye.”

I snorted as I lifted my beer to take a drink. His confidence bordered on arrogance, but he’d always been like that, even back in high school.

He glanced around, doing a double take as he spotted the celebrities partying in the private section.

“Holy shit…that’s Tasha Madison!”

Of course, the first person Mitch zeroed in on was a supermodel.

“Yeah, and she’s with what’s-her-face, that actress who’s dating the Patriots’ quarterback,” I offered, pulling out my phone to subtly snap a few photos and then sent them to my younger brother, Derek. He was going to be jealous as hell that he was missing out on this.

“He’s one of the players in the tournament,” Mitch said distractedly, then pointed out a woman he swore was a former Playboy bunny.

I squinted as I studied the woman. She had huge tits that defied gravity, and I marveled at the engineering on her yellow bikini top that managed – barely – to contain them. She certainly fit the image of a centerfold, so I’d take Mitch’s word for it. I hadn’t bothered looking at a Playboy magazine since Monica Sandowsky had let me take her bra off when I was sixteen. From then on, pictures just hadn’t been the same when I could have the real thing.

I closed my eyes and settled back in the lounge chair, listening with half an ear as he rambled on about the women around us and how hot they were. My thoughts drifted to Melanie, wishing she were here with me – preferably wearing the red swimsuit she’d bought last summer. The sight of her ass in that suit was enough to bring me to my knees, just so I could worship every inch of her delectable curves. I’d been sorely tempted to have a pool installed in our backyard just so she’d have more opportunities to wear it.

Shit!

I sat up suddenly, startling Mitch into silence.

“I never let Mel know we got here safely,” I mumbled half under my breath as I reached for my phone.

Mitch laughed derisively and shook his head. “Wow, I knew she kept you on a tight leash, but I didn’t realize it stretched all the way from Indy to Vegas.”

I swung my head to glare at him.

“Very funny, asshole. She doesn’t keep me on a leash, and you damned well know it. I’m just being considerate, which is why I’m still married to the love of my life and you’re looking for the next Mrs. Baylor.”

Mitch threw up his hands defensively. “Fuck that noise, dude. No way am I walking down the aisle again. Life’s too short to be stuck with one woman when there’s an all-you-can-fuck buffet of ‘em.” He smirked as he gestured to the various women in and around the pool.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” I retorted as I tapped my phone screen and brought up Mel’s contact number, noting the two missed calls. “Life is fucking fantastic when you find the right woman, and believe me, Melanie is the one.”

I hovered over the “connect call” button, then thought better of it and switched over to our text chain. I didn’t want to give Mitch any more ammunition to ride me about. I loved the guy, but he could be a real ass sometimes.

She had texted me hours ago, along with the two missed calls, likely when we were literally running to the gate to make our flight.

Melanie: Let me know when you’ve landed.

Me: We just got to the hotel. I’ll call you later. Love you!