Free The Artist's Paradise by Pamela S Wetterman Page A

try to set something up for brunch on Sunday?”
    “I’ll call him when I get back to my dorm room. I’ve got his number in my notes. I’m sure he’ll say yes. I don’t think no is in his vocabulary.”
    “I can’t wait,” Angie whispered.

Chapter 1 3
     
    Jonathan awoke early Friday morning as the sun’s warmth crept into his bedroom. He stretched out his body full length, raised his arms to the head of the bed, and growled. Carl had given him the day off. “Go home and celebrate your victory. You deserve it.”
    Right, celebrate with whom? He wasn’t going to tell Carl about Angie’s behavior. Carl would have laughed and said, “Women. They’re all nuts. That’s why after four wives, I quit.”
    Almost every friend Jonathan had was separated or divorced. Was it hopeless to think anyone could make a marriage endure today? The effort had turned into hard work, and for what? To be blasted the first time you made a little mistake?
    Angie made it clear. She wouldn’t speak to him until Tuesday. Well, he wasn’t going to sit around waiting for her highness to return. He had man things to do.
    After a hearty breakfast of ham, fried eggs, juice, and coffee, Jonathan strolled to his library, sat down at his laptop, and looked up some phone numbers. Most of his single friends could make a tennis date at the drop of a hat. He was in the mood for some physical exercise , and what better place than at the tennis club where all those lovely wealthy ladies hung out.
    He reviewed his list of tennis bums. When he was single, he used to select a different guy each week to play with. That way by the end of the quarter, he had seen all of his men friends, and then he started the rotation again. He did the same thing with his Sunday golf dates. He was unable to recall the last time he actually had a free weekend to play anything except house . Damn, he missed his freedom. It seemed like all he did was chores for Angie when he wasn’t working.
    A long hour later, he’d contacted all the tennis players from his list. Most of the guys already had plans or had to work. He’d found Joe’s line busy. His best friend from college , Joe, was always up for a game of tennis. They hadn’t seen each other in over three years. He redialed the number and to his surprise, Joe was at home and available. They swapped brags for a few minutes then made plans to meet.
    Smiling as he hung-up the phone, Jonathon shouted to the empty room, “Joe’s available.”
    #
    After their tennis match, Joe and Jonathan showered in the club locker-room, and then both men donned slacks and a fresh polo—the official country club uniform. They headed to the club restaurant for a late lunch.
    Once seated, lunch ordered , and cold beer in hand, Jonathan relaxed. He’d lost two of the three sets, but he held his own on the court. His serves were spot-on. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. “I haven’t had this much fun in months. You’re still a worthy opponent.” Joe, a little grayer than he remembered, remained tanned and lean. He could still pass for a thirty-five year old. How did he have time to keep in shape?
    Joe leaned in, elbows firmly placed on the table. “Man, it’s good to see you. How long has it been, six months, maybe longer? What’s up?
    “I’ve been busy with a big case. Angie’s out of town, and I’m free to have some fun. That’s all.”
    Jonathan stirred in his seat. He crossed and uncrossed his legs and then took a big gulp of beer.
    Joe furrowed his brow. “Look buddy, this is Joe, the man of many wives. These women don’t just go away for the weekend unless their momma’s sick, or there’s trouble in the camp. Which is it?”
    “No trouble. She’s traveling with her friend , Vicki. They went to UT for a mother/daughter weekend. She’ll be home on Tuesday.”
    Joe pointed his index finger at Jonathan. “I know you too well. What’s the rest of the story?”
    Jonathan drained his glass, held it up, and nodded