“Hey, girl, it’s me. Did y’all do it?” It was Gail, a day late and a dollar short. As usual, she wanted a play by play. This time I was neither eager nor willing to provide one.

“Gail, it’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a long story.”

“Good. ’Cause I don’t have time to hear it anyway, and neither do you. Put your clothes on. I booked you on a flight that leaves out in forty-five minutes. You gotta fly to Cleveland for contestant number two!”

I know she didn’t mean any harm. She was only doing what I had asked. But I really wasn’t in the mood to see anybody or travel anywhere but home. Emotionally I was drained. Mentally I was exhausted. And physically I was still recovering from one of the single most satisfying sexual experiences of my life.

“Gail, I’m sorry. Forty-five minutes is impossible. It’s four o’clock in the morning, I’m exhausted, my coochie is still quivering, and besides, I was in the middle of a romantic evening with Denzel.”

“Is Denzel going to escort you to Sheree’s engagement party? If not, you tell Denzel you have a plane to catch. And what is your coochie quivering for? Girl, did you—”

“Bye, Gail!” I hung up the phone. I can’t stand Gail. But she’s right. Okay, Montana, pull it together. Pull it together.

Releasing my customary three pillows, I dragged myself from the bed, quickly dressed, repacked, and was off. Bye bye, Denzel.

I quickly checked out, jumped in a cab, and was on my way to Lambert–St. Louis International airport.

“Please, if you could get me there in twenty minutes, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“Eternity is nice, but twenty dollars in the here and now will get you there in twenty minutes,” the driver responded.

“Deal!”

I nearly fell out of the back of the cab as the driver sped his way down the overcrowded expressway honking, bobbing, weaving, honking some more, and breaking every law from speeding to tail-gating to reckless disregard for human life.