We got into my car to drive over to Tom’s place. Paul calls it ‘The Lair’. It is kind of Bond-villain-esque, built into the side of a cliff as it is. Tom’s far from a Bond villain though, more like your favorite uncle crossed with Tony Manero from Saturday Night Fever. Maybe with a little Tony Soprano mixed in.

Have I mentioned one of the things I love about Paul is he doesn’t try to drive all the time? I know he doesn’t love my driving, but he doesn’t complain about it either, he just gets into the passenger seat and smiles.

You know he got a motorcycle? I wasn’t going to say a word, I think they’re sexy as fuck. He could have paid his entire debt off by now but he bought the damned bike. I get it, you need to feel like you’re in control of your life, because when it comes down to it, you’re not, but stuff like that helps. Eh, we got to do something I always wanted to do anyway, which is fuck on a motorcycle. Wasn’t worth it, haha. It’s still fun to ride bitch with him.

So like I said, Paul doesn’t mind me driving, which is good because I’ve never had a car like this before and I love to push her as far as I’m capable. He doesn’t even flinch, much, when I get too close to the edge of the cliff road. Maybe it’s because he knows that, worst case we’ll wake up back in our bed minus the car.

I asked Alexander once, early on, why we have to drive from place to place. Why can’t we just ‘appear’.

“You travel because you need to. Your references are still those of a human being. Because of this, you’re healthier when your simulation closely mimics that of what you recall from life.”

Made me think of a zoo.

We pulled up and into Tom’s drive. I parked at the end. Tommy came around to greet us wearing a banana hammock bathing suit and sandals.

OK, look, Tommy is…I was going to say Italian, but my husband is Italian as well and the two can’t be more different. Let’s say ‘flamboyant’, but not as a euphemism for effeminate. Back in the day we would say, ‘Guido’. He’s got a great body and he likes to show it off. The only thing that kinda bugs me is he shaves. Everywhere. I like men furry. I guess that when you get down to it, it’s a little thing and if he likes how he looks, who am I to say? He’s a friend (OK a friend that I used to fuck but still a friend). I keep myself bare from the eyebrows down so it might seem like the pot calling the kettle black, but I grew up in an era when men were hairy and women not so much.

About that ‘used to fuck’. Yeah. I’m rethinking that a little. It’s been a long time since I’ve done a three-way (that was my idea), my husband just basically gave me the green light, and I’m kinda horny. Business first.

“Hey you two, I hope you brought your suits ‘cause it’s another shitty day in paradise and I wanna sit by the pool!” Tommy greeted us.

“Hey compadre,” Tommy and Paul bro-hugged (you know, the hand-shake, hug, back pat thing guys do). “Whaddaya say?”

"Jesus Tommy, do you ever wear clothes?" Paul laughed.

"You just wished you looked this good!" he replied.

He came over to me next and kissed my cheeks. “Bellissima! When you get tired of this strunz over here, come move in with me.”

“I’m just getting used to having him around again, but I’ll keep that in mind next time he leaves paper towels balled up on the furniture.”

Paul is literally the easiest man to get along with I’ve ever known, but no one is perfect.

“What’re you drinking?” Paul asked him.

“This is a genuine Hurricane, but don’t worry, I’ve got bourbon for you, Pisani. I got vino for the lady too.”

“If we’re going all N’awlins, gimmie a Sazerac then,” Paul said.

“That’s my boy!” Tom smiled.

“One of the great things about being dead is I can drink wine again!” I said as we walked into his house. “I had to give it up because of my stomach.”

Tom’s house brings the concept of ‘open floor plan’ to a degree impossible anyplace that might have weather. Basically he’s got no walls. His house is one big roof over the main floor and the bedrooms are hollowed out into the cliff below. The Sim keeps the water where the water belongs and there are no bugs on The Island so it’s outdoor living at it’s finest.

“I love your view,” I said for the umpteenth time.

“I grew up in the city. Spent my whole life there. It’s great to have space, know-what-I-mean?”

“You said you’ve gotten a booking from Ani you wanted to talk to us about?” I asked.

“Yeah, he said. Siddown on the sofa and lemme get Alexander to get you drinks and then we can talk business. After we can relax.”