Wrath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

I shrugged. “Nothing like yours. All I’m thinking about is being back home, getting acclimated to my job, and doing well there.”

  “So you don’t have any plans to turn the Divorce Concierge upside down and inside out?” When my mouth popped open, he said, “Now, that’s impressive. You were brought in as a partner.” When I still didn’t speak, he added, “What? Of course I checked you out.”

  I laughed. “I thought only women did that.”

  He shrugged a little. “Women… and men who are serious.”

  His words, his tone, reminded me of Friday, when he’d talked about how wonderful it was to be in love. Those words, that tone, had been my cue to leave. Tonight, these words, this tone, made me shift in my chair, but this time, I stayed.

  He said, “None of us can be too careful. So”—he leaned toward me—“I liked what I saw when I researched you.”

  I lowered my eyes a bit, wondering how deep he had gone. I’d done a good job of keeping my parents out of my bio.

  Xavier said, “What about you? Did you like what you found out about me?”

  No mention of my parents. When I glanced back at him, it took everything inside of me not to be intimidated by this moment or this man. “What I found out through research was all right.” He raised an eyebrow. “But what I’ve discovered tonight—this has been the best.”

  He grinned, and I didn’t know how he did it—it was his half smile that lit up my whole face. He said, “It means a lot that I’ve passed your test.”

  “You passed the test before we even had dinner.”

  “Really?” He grinned. “What was my winning move? ’Cause I want to make sure I do it again and again.” He flexed like he was about to pop his collar.

  I laughed. “It was my phone call. You answered.” When he frowned, I continued, “You answered your phone when I called. You must have good credit if you answer unknown numbers.”

  He gave me a blank stare as if he couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. Then his head fell back as he filled the restaurant with his joyful laugh.

  7 Xavier

  Standing in front of the leaning mirror, I smoothed down my lapel. I’d seen this look in pictures from the Golden Globes—black on black. This was not a natural pairing for me: a black suit with a black shirt, and no tie. A bit too casual for the persona I’d created over the last decade. But the men I’d seen in the pictures, Jamie Foxx and Michael B. Jordan, had rocked this outfit, and that was what I was going for tonight—I wanted to rock it with Chastity.

  My cell phone vibrated, and I smiled before I even glanced at the screen. When the name flashed across the caller ID, I hesitated, then answered, “What’s up, fam?”

  “It’s about time you called me to apologize,” Bryce said.

  Just like that, the tension was gone, and I chuckled. “Bruh, you called me.”

  “Only because I knew you wanted to speak to me,” he said as if that were a fact. “It’s been almost a week, and the weekend is coming up, so here’s your chance,” he continued. “You got something you want to say?”

  I shook my head. This was why Bryce was my brother. Not only did he keep it funny but he gave me room to be me. “Okay,” I said. “I apologize for not being nice to you when you showed up uninvited even though you should have known better and I never would’ve done that to you.”

  He laughed like I was one of the Kings of Comedy. “That’s good enough.” After a pause, his tone became serious when he asked, “So, you good?”

  Inside his question, I heard his real inquiry, and he needed to know Roxanne was so far in my rearview mirror that not only could she not be seen, I hardly remembered what she looked like. “Bruh, I’m better than good.”

  He sighed as if hearing that answer had been the purpose for his call. “Well, since you’re so good, you can take me out for an after-a-long-ass-week drink as your way of apologizing.”

  “Didn’t I apologize already?”

  “Bruh, with the way your temperament is set up, there will be another time. So you might as well take me out for a couple of beers at Sluggers—we can catch a few games, and then in the morning, we can hit the links.”

  I turned away from the mirror. “Golf in the morning sounds good, and then we can grab a couple of beers afterward.”

  “Nah, Samantha and I are hanging out tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m doing tonight. I’ve got a big date.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His tone was filled with surprise. “So Roxanne forgave your big head?”

  “Not Roxanne,” I said without hesitation. “The woman who has my heart now… Her name is Chastity.”

  In the expanse of the silence that followed, I wanted to swallow back my words. Because I knew Bryce would take what I’d said, twist it, and make it something it was not.

  When he began with “X-Man,” I heard it in his tone. “You just broke up with Roxanne; how does some female already have your heart?”

  “Sometimes, life is just good that way.”

  He sighed his exasperation. “You think it’s a good idea to be out there like that so quickly… again?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “You need to give yourself some time and some space.”

  “What I need is a friend who will be more supportive in my life.”

  “A supportive friend tells you the truth. You got engaged six months ago and just broke up with your fiancée, who, by the way, you’d hooked up with less than a month after you broke up with your fiancée before her. And now, a week later, you’re talking about some woman has your heart. Who?” he asked as if he couldn’t imagine a female on the island of Manhattan who’d want to get with me.

  “I met her at Club 40/40 last Friday, and we really hit it off. We’ve talked on the phone every day, been out a couple of times…” I paused. That was a half lie that would become the whole truth as soon as Bryce got off my phone. By the end of tonight, I would have been out with Chastity a couple of times. “Anyway,” I continued, “tonight, I’m doing something special with her.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. There’re a lot of fine women in the city, but just slow it down, X-Man.”

  “Why? Here’s the thing, Bryce,” I began, thinking maybe if I broke it down, my friend would stop with all this psychoanalytical BS. “Chastity and I connected.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “We connected right away.”

  “That’s not a new line either, bruh.”

  “We talked as if we’d known each other for years. It’s easy with her.”

  “Do you realize you’ve said that about the women you were supposed to marry?”

  “Well, I haven’t said this.” I paused. “She’s an attorney.”

  So many beats went by that I thought Bryce and I had lost our connection. Finally, he said, “And that means…”

  I filled in the blank for him. “The foundation is there. I can talk to her about anything.”

  “The foundation of a relationship isn’t your career.”

  “Man, when did you become Oprah?”

  “I’m just sayin’.”

  “And I’m just sayin’, you have two choices—you can be happy for me or not. And if you’re happy, then we can hook up in the morning.”

  “Look, X, we’ve had each other’s backs for a long time, and that’s what I’m doing for you now.”

  “You know I have no words for how grateful I am to you, right?” I said, repeating what I’d told Bryce over the years. “But right now, having my back means letting me go so I can be on time for Chastity.” Before he could share another judgmental word, I added, “Let’s hook up in the morning. I’ll text you.”

  That was my good-bye. I hung up, even though I knew Bryce had more to say. But by the time I’d clicked off the phone, my mind was back on Chastity Jeffries.

  Everything about this girl fit. A magna cum laude Dartmouth grad with a law degree from Columbia. The only thing—she was already a partner, but th
at was cool… I was right behind her.

  And she was a gorgeous woman. Beyond the obviousness of beauty… there was her charm and her humor and her height—I loved it. Together, Chastity and I were striking. It was telling in the way people glanced at us the other night. Inside and outside of Turning Point, we were turning heads.

  It was easy for me to see her as Chastity King; I couldn’t wait until she saw it, too. And it would happen, because what I knew now was that this was all about timing. There had been too much time with Diane and Roxanne, too much time between my proposal and what would’ve been our wedding day. If I’d been married, to either Diane or Roxanne, neither would’ve left me. For better or for worse, we would’ve worked it out. So, with that lesson learned, if Chastity was the one, I was gonna put that ring on it and marry her right away.

  I grabbed my cell, opened the Uber app, and ordered my car. The one I’d sent for Chastity was already on the way to her.

  “Three minutes,” I whispered as the app alerted me of my car.

  Tucking my wallet inside my jacket, I wondered if three would be my new lucky number. Chastity would be my third fiancée. Maybe after three dates, I’d propose, and then three days after that, we’d be married.

  I chuckled at that idea; that would scare any woman away.

  Or maybe not. I needed to see how tonight went and then keep the number three in the back of my mind.

  * * *

  I HAD NAILED it. My victory was in Chastity’s eyes from the moment we’d met tonight. First, when I stood outside the Time Warner building as her car rolled to a stop on the curved curb of Columbus Circle. When I opened the door and held out my hand, both of us gasped. I wasn’t sure about Chastity’s reaction, but I was taken by everything about her. Just like when I’d seen her the last two times, she was a minimalist, which I loved. Minimum makeup, a simple red T-strap dress, a single David Yurman bracelet. Natural nails, natural hair, a natural woman not hiding behind the artificial because she was confident of her reality. That reality was perfection personified to me.

  Together we’d walked into Masa, an exclusive Japanese restaurant—since she’d told me she loved sushi.

  “How in the world did you get a reservation?” she’d exclaimed as we were seated inside one of the most expensive restaurants in the country. “Steyer and Smith,” I’d told her.

  She’d nodded—she understood. Chastity had probably guessed that either my boss, Jackson Steyer, knew Masa Takayama, the restaurant’s owner, or our firm handled the restaurant’s legal affairs. Either guess would have been correct.

  Over dishes selected by the chef, we’d chatted as easily as we had on Tuesday, though that was probably because we’d talked on the phone several times a day.

  But it was when we walked out of the Time Warner Center and paused at the edge of the curb that I’d hit that hole in one.

  “Your carriage awaits, Ms. Jeffries.” I bowed at my waist before I extended my hand.

  Her mouth opened wide, but she didn’t ask any questions; I liked that. I helped her step into the white-framed horse-driven carriage as if she’d already hooked up with her prince.

  When I joined her, the driver checked us, then he turned his attention to the business of the forty-five-minute ride.

  The moment we entered Central Park, Chastity said, “I’ve never done this.”

  “I wanted this to be a night full of firsts for you.”

  She leaned away from me as if she was trying to get a better look. “I can imagine why you’d think I hadn’t been to the restaurant. But a ride in Central Park? I’m a New York City girl, so how would you know I’d never done this?”

  “I’m a thinking man.” I tapped my temple. “First, you just returned to the city, so the last time you would’ve done this would’ve been in high school or college. I figured even if any of those boys had been able to scrounge up some pennies, they were boys,” I said, tossing shade. “You’d never done this with a man.”

  She laughed, and like the whole time at dinner, the sound of her made my heart swell.

  Then I said, “And if you had taken this ride with a boy or another man”—I paused just for a beat—“you’d never taken this ride with me. So this is a first for you.”

  This time, she gave me a soft smile; I eased my arm around her, and she accepted my invitation, leaning back into me. Then, together, we exhaled.

  The city’s music played around us: the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves, the hum of car motors, the roar of the buses’ engines. Each, an instrument; together, an orchestra that performed for me and Chastity. I’d taken this ride before, but with Chastity in my arms, the Wollman Rink was more vibrant with the summer sounds of the children, the lake was more alive with the dozens of boaters enjoying the August evening’s calm waters, and Strawberry Fields was more tranquil when the horseman paused the carriage for a meditative moment.

  That was the best part for me—the silence. Neither of us felt the need to fill the quiet space with anything more than just us. By the time we rounded the park and returned to the south side, I was ready to be with this woman forever.

  I jumped from the carriage, tipped the driver, then held out my arms for Chastity. I stood close so all she could do was slide into my arms. Another moment when no words were needed as I held her there, staring into her eyes. Before, my thoughts had been my hope; now, my thoughts were my desire.

  I wanted time to stop so that this moment as I eased toward her would stay with me forever. I never wanted to forget how she tilted her head. I always wanted to remember when our lips met.

  Our contact sent a surge through me that didn’t end at my center the way it always did with a first kiss; this current rushed straight to my heart. When I pressed against her, I wanted Chastity to feel what she’d done to me; I wanted her to know that from this moment, she could have all of me.

  The sounds of the city dimmed as our tongues became acquainted, and once again, I asked time to stop so I could remain in the moment when I fell in love.

  Finally, we stepped apart, and when she smiled, the deal was sealed. The way she’d kissed me, the way she looked at me… Chastity Jeffries was going to be my wife.

  8 Chastity

  It had only been a week. That was the part I didn’t understand. I’d gone from not dating to, after a week, strolling down the southern edge of Central Park with my arm hooked inside a man’s whom I’d known for seven days.

  Seven… God’s number of completion. So what did God want completed? Or what had been completed? Maybe that was it; maybe I was completing a part of my life where I’d been stuck inside my father’s sins.

  So maybe it wasn’t the number seven. Maybe God wanted me to keep my eyes on tomorrow, the eighth day. Eight—God’s number for new beginnings.

  As we continued our saunter west, we were surrounded by pedestrians and traffic, but Xavier and I carved out our own space. The darkness of night had descended, but still, this city pulsed as if it were noon. And through it all, we strolled in our silence. I’d never been with anyone with whom I felt so satiated in the quiet.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  I was surprised he’d spoken, but glad that he had. Because the only thing better than the silence we shared was the sound of Xavier’s voice. “Just a penny?”

  “Did I say a penny?” He laughed. “I meant a million pennies.”

  “Hmmm,” I hummed. “Ten thousand dollars? We can start with that.”

  “Okay,” he said as if he’d just won a prize. “So, you’ve been kinda quiet since…” He stopped before he said “our kiss,” but I knew that was his reference. “You good?”

  I pondered for a moment, not because I wasn’t sure, but because I was surprised by what I was about to say. “I’m better than good.”

  He squeezed my arm as if now, he was just as satisfied and complete. “So, is that what you were thinking about? That you were good?”

  I nodded. “I was thinking this is good, the night has been good,
and my parents would be very happy.” I chuckled.

  “So they’d like me?”

  That mention of my parents had been another slip; Xavier was that easy to talk to. But then, they weren’t a secret. And if I continued seeing Xavier, he’d find out. So I continued, “I think so.” I glanced up at him. “But honestly, it’s more that they’d be happy I was out having a good time. I’m sure they’d think nights like this will keep me from running away again.” Another slip, so unlike me. Talking about my parents was one thing; bringing Xavier into that part of my world was another.

  “You ran away from home?” He laughed. “I thought you’d gone to Atlanta to work.”

  “I did,” I said. “But you know how parents are.”

  He said nothing, but this time, his silence sounded different. Felt as if it wasn’t coming from the same peaceful place. What had I said to take him away?

  Finally, he asked, “Are you close to your mother and father?”

  My mind swirled with memories of all the challenges I’d had growing up. “Yeah,” I said through my thoughts. “Even though I’ve lived away for a while, we’re close. I’m an only child, so some of our closeness is because of that. What about you?”

  “I’m an only child as well,” he said, though that hadn’t been my question. I wanted to know what he’d asked me—was he close to his parents?

  But before I could ask, he said, “What do your parents do?”

  This moment… of truth. I inhaled and said, “My father’s a pastor, and with all that my mother does for the church, First Lady is certainly a career.”

  “A pastor?” Xavier said, his tone filled with shock, and something else… Was it disdain? “I missed that when I was checking you out.”

  His tone made me pause. Made me forget about telling him my father was Kareem Jeffries. Made me ask instead, “You have something against pastors?”

  He shook his head and shrugged at the same time. “Nothing against pastors.” His eyes were away from mine when he said, “But God… that’s a different story.”