Not bothering to wait for my typical car service, I took a cab back to my apartment, in need of food and a long, hot shower. It had been days since I’d taken the time to eat a complete meal and spend more than minutes in the shower. Both felt like a luxury, which was humorous, standing in the million-dollar penthouse I’d bought back in my easygoing days.

With a full belly and a fresh outlook thanks to a few gallons of hot water, I made a few calls and went to my closet, feeling more exhilarated than I had in months. I took my time, letting the sun set and the evening settle. I had nothing but time tonight. Deciding to dress down, I went with a pair of designer jeans and a green button-down. Feeling confident and eager for the first time in a long while, I finished tying my shoes, slid on my father’s vintage Rolex, and headed out the door, ready for anything.

I had the driver drop me off a few blocks down from the club, deciding I needed some air. I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d just walked without purpose or a desperate need to get from one place to another. With the speed of a ninety-year-old turtle, I strolled the streets of my city, letting the smell of cheap pizza and gasoline fill my nostrils.

It wasn’t everyone’s ideal notion of a hometown, but it was mine. The smog, millions of people, and traffic, all of it made New York home, and although I dreamed of someday living somewhere simpler, right now, I was just happy to be outside.

Away from endless meetings and detailed business models.

Yes, this was exactly what I needed.

The pumping bass from the club grew as I closed in on the block. About twenty or so people stood in line, dressed in their finest, waiting for the bouncer to grant them entrance. This was one of the hottest clubs at the moment, and everyone was dying to get a golden ticket inside, hoping to rub elbows with the rich and famous.

The reason I came?

The women.

Where the celebrities mingled, so did the hot women. And if I was allowing myself only one day out of my cage, then it was going to be a night to remember. I barely had to nod in the direction of the beefy bouncer, Tony, a guy I’d known for years. He’d been doing this gig at more than a couple of local hot spots, and he and I always had an understanding.

Roman Cavenaugh didn’t do lines.