Standing there with his arms crossed, Dave looked bigger than a mountain. “You ready to party?” I said buoyantly. “I need to find my next ex-wife.”

“Let’s go back to my house and relax,” replied the Mountain. “Laurie flew to New York to be with Nadine. We got the whole house to ourselves. You need to get some sleep.”

Sleep? No, no, no! I thought. “I’ll get all the sleep I need when I’m dead, you big fuck. And whose side are you on, anyway? Mine or hers?” I took a swing at him, a full right cross that landed squarely on his right biceps.

He shrugged, apparently not feeling the sting of my blow. “I’m on your side,” he said warmly. “I’m always on your side, but I don’t think there’s a war. You guys are gonna make up. Give her a few days to calm down; that’s all the woman needs.”

I gritted my teeth and shook my head menacingly, as if to say, “Never! Not in a million fucking years!”

Alas, the truth was somewhat different. I wanted my Duchess back; in fact, I wanted her back desperately. But I couldn’t let Dave know that; he might slip, say something to Laurie, who would then say something to the Duchess. Then the Duchess would know that I was miserable without her, and that would give her the upper hand.

“I hope she drops fucking dead,” I muttered. “I mean, after what she did to me, Dave? I wouldn’t take her back if she were the last cunt in the world. Now, let’s go to Solid Gold and get some strippers to give us blow jobs!”

“You’re the boss,” said Dave. “My orders are just to make sure that you don’t kill yourself.”

“Oh, really?” I snapped. “Who the fuck gave you those orders?”

“Everybody,” said my big friend, shaking his head gravely.

“Well, then, fuckeverybody!” I sputtered, heading to the limousine. “Fuck every last one of them!”

Solid Gold—what a place! A smorgasbord of young strippers, at least two dozen of them. As we made our way toward the center stage, I got a better look at some of these young beauties, and I came to the sad conclusion that most of them had been beaten over the head with an ugly stick.

I turned to the Mountain and the Uniblinker and said, “There’re too many dogs in this place, but if we look hard enough I bet we can find a diamond in the rough.” I craned my head this way and that. “Let’s walk around a bit.”

Toward the back of the club was a VIP section. An enormous black bouncer stood before a short flight of steps cordoned off by a red velvet rope. I headed straight for him. “How ya doing!” I said, in warm tones.

The bouncer looked down at me as if I were an annoying insect that needed to be squashed. He needed a little attitude adjustment, I reasoned, so I reached down into my right sock, pulled out a stack of $10,000 in hundreds, and peeled off half and handed it to him.

With his attitude now properly adjusted, I said, “Would you bring me the five hottest girls in this place, and then clear out the VIP section for my friends and me?”

He smiled.

Five minutes later we had the entire VIP section to ourselves. There were four reasonably hot strippers standing in front of us in their birthday suits and high heels. They were all decent-looking, but none of them was marriage material. I needed a true beauty, one I could parade around Long Island to show the Duchess once and for all who was boss.

Just then the bouncer opened the velvet rope and a naked teenager made her way up the steps, in a pair of white patent-leather go-to-hell pumps. She sat down next to me on the arm of the club chair, crossed her bare legs with complete insouciance, and then leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. She smelled of a mixture of Angel perfume and a tiny drop of her own musky aroma from dancing. She was gorgeous. She couldn’t have been a day over eighteen. She had a great mane of light-brown hair, emerald-green eyes, a tiny button nose, and a smooth jaw-line. Her body was incredible—about five-five, a pair of silicone C-cups, a gentle curve to her tummy, and legs that rivaled the Duchess’s. She had olive skin, and there wasn’t a single blemish on it.

We exchanged smiles, and her teeth were even and white. In a voice loud enough to cut through the stripper music, I said, “What’s your name?”

She leaned toward me until her lips were almost pressing against my right ear, and she said, “Blaze.”

I recoiled and looked at her with my head cocked to one side. “What kinda fucking name is Blaze? Did your mother know you were gonna be a stripper when you were born?”

She stuck her tongue out at me, so I stuck my tongue back at her. “My real name is Jennifer,” she said. “Blaze is my stage name.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Blaze.”

“Awwww,” she said, rubbing her cheek against mine. “You’re such a little cutie!”

Little?Why…you… little hooker in stripper’s clothing! I oughta smash you one!I took a deep breath and said, “What do you mean?”

That seemed to confuse her. “I mean you’re…a cutie, and you have beautiful eyes, and you’re young!” She offered me her stripper’s smile.

She had a very sweet voice, Blaze. Would Gwynne approve of her, though? In truth, it was still too early to say if this one would make a suitable mother for the children.

“Do you like Quaaludes?” I asked.

She shrugged her bare shoulders. “I never tried one. What do they make you feel like?”

Hmmm…a novice, I thought. No patience to break her in. “How about coke? Have you tried that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I love coke! Do you have any?”

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, mountains of it!”

“Well, then, follow me,” she said, grabbing my hand. “And don’t call me Blaze anymore, okay? My name is Jennie.”

I smiled at my future wife. “Okay, Jennie. Do you like kids, by the way?” I crossed my fingers.

She smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah, I love kids. I wanna have a whole bunch one day. Why?”

“No particular reason,” I said to my future wife. “I was just wondering.”

Ahhh, Jennie!My very antidote to the backstabbing Duchess! Who even needed to go back to Old Brookville now? I could just move Chandler and Carter down to Florida. Gwynne and Janet would come too. The Duchess would have visitation rights, once a year, under court supervision. That would be fair.

Jennie and I passed away the next four hours in the manager’s office, snorting cocaine, as she gave me private lap dances and world-class blow jobs, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t been able to actually get it up yet. I was now convinced, however, that she would make a suitable mother for my children, so I said to the top of Jennie’s head, “Hold on, Jennie. Stop sucking for a second.”

She craned up her neck and offered me her stripper’s smile. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

I shook my head. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s right. I want to introduce you to my mother. Hold on a second.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my parents’ house in Bayside, which had had the same phone number for thirty-five years.

A moment later came my mother’s concerned voice, to which I replied, “No, no, don’t listen to her. Everything is fine…. A restraining order? So fucking what? I have two houses; she can keep one and I can keep the other…. The children? They’ll live with me, of course. I mean, who could do a better job raising them than me? Anyway, that’s not why I called, Mom; I called to let you know that I’m asking Nadine for a divorce…. Why? Because she’s a backstabbing bitch, that’s why! Besides, I already met someone else, and she’s really nice.” I looked over at Jennie, who was fairly beaming, and I winked at her. Then I said into the phone, “Listen, Mom, I want you to speak to my future wife. She’s really sweet and beautiful and…Where am I right now? I’m in a strip club down in Miami…. Why?…No, she’s not a stripper, or at least not anymore. She’s putting all that behind her now. I’m gonna spoil her rotten.” I winked at Jennie again. “Her name is Jennie, but you can call her Blaze if you want. She won’t take offense at that; she’s a very easygoing girl. Hold on—here she is.”