The Ex Files

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  She stared at her ex-husband and hated that he looked the same as the day they’d met six years ago—like a supersize order of chocolate decadence. But that was then. Now she had to find a way to look past the mocha-colored skin and light brown eyes, the strong angle of his jaw, and the muscles that made him a man. She had to close her heart to his rhythm—the way he walked, talked. She had to stop all of that and just remember what he’d done. “No need to check on me; I’m fine.”

  “Good.”

  “I know you got the divorce papers.” She lifted the packet. “Mine were just delivered. And I’m fine,” she repeated, and nonchalantly tossed the package onto her desk.

  He nodded, his smile gone. “I know you are.”

  “So, why are you here?” she asked again.

  He leaned forward. “Because I care.” He paused. “And, I’m sorry about all of this….”

  She held up her hands. “You’ve said that before and I’ve heard it enough. No need for sorry anymore because I no longer care.”

  He sat as if there was more he wanted to say. But his lips stayed pressed together as if he knew his regret meant nothing.

  Kendall stared at him as he stood and walked toward the door. She couldn’t wait for him to get out of her sight. And then the other part of her heart yelled, “Wait.”

  When he turned, she realized she had to say something.

  “Ah, the meeting with…Lawrence.” She paused. “Lawrence Orbach.”

  He frowned. “We have a meeting with the banker?”

  “No. We don’t. I do.”

  He sighed. “Kendall, you don’t have to do this. This business means as much to me as it does to you.”

  “But it’s mine and I want you out.”

  The pain that spread across his face was familiar. It was the same every time she said those words, in that way. He opened his mouth, but then surrendered. “Do what you have to do,” he said before he left her alone.

  Kendall banged her fist against the desk. She hated when he saw her emotion. Hated that he still got to the weakest part of her.

  She should have let him walk out of the office, but she’d stopped him just so she could have a little more time. It wasn’t like she had a meeting with their banker. She didn’t need one. Already knew that she couldn’t afford to buy Anthony out. And in their divorce settlement, they’d agreed to run the business they started five years ago—before they were even husband and wife—together.

  This should have been the best time of her life. And it would have been, if Anthony hadn’t tossed a torpedo into the middle of their world—and her dreams—thirteen months before.

  It was such a cliché the way he’d ruined their marriage. How she’d come home from a business trip—early, to make up for the argument they’d had before she left. How she’d walked into her home. Her bedroom. And in her bed, her husband. But he was not alone.

  Even now, Kendall could hear the screams. But she wasn’t sure who the cries were from. She’d never figured out if they’d been from her. Or Anthony. Or Sabrina.

  “Oh, my God!” She did remember squealing those words. She remembered wanting to run, but shock held her prisoner, sentencing her to stare at the sight.

  “Kendall!”

  She’d heard her husband’s voice, but her eyes couldn’t fix on him. Not even as he bolted toward her. Her eyes were trained on the woman who held the sheet over her bare chest.

  “Kendall!” he’d yelled her name again.

  It was his touch that freed her from her catatonic state. She’d stumbled down the stairs and out of their home. Even though thick tears clouded her eyes as she screeched out of the driveway, she could see where Anthony stood, at their front door, yelling, wrapped in his barely closed bathrobe.

  She’d had only one place to go, which was why Anthony found her.

  “Kendall!” He’d sounded relieved as he rushed into her office.

  She’d faced him with swollen eyes and a busted heart.

  “How could you?” she’d cried.

  His eyes were as puffed up as hers and she wondered why. He didn’t have any reason to hurt.

  “Kendall,” he’d said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “How could you?” she’d asked again through tears that threatened to drown them both.

  The sorrow in his eyes moved her to the brink of hysteria. “I’m sorry,” he’d said over and over. “We can try…to work through this.” He paused. “It was just this once.”

  Like that even mattered.

  He’d said, “Please, let’s try.”

  She’d said, “Why Sabrina? Why my sister?”

  Kendall squeezed her eyes shut now, pushing back that memory. That had been more than a year ago, but just the thought of her husband and her sister could still stop her from breathing. She wished she could push all of that pain into the past. She would have been able to—if only her heartache had stopped right there.

  Chapter Three

  ASIA INGRUM

  Asia squeezed her daughter. “When you get home from school, I’ll have a big surprise.”

  “What, Mommy?”

  “You’ll see. Now, get going.”

  Angel’s pigtails bounced as she took her baby-sitter Tracy’s hand. With a final wave, the five-year-old stepped into the elevator and then, Asia slammed the front door closed. For the last seven months, this was when she’d rush into the living room and, from eleven stories up, watch Angel scurry into Tracy’s car before they sped down Wilshire Boulevard.

  But today, Asia raced up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time to the second level of her condominium. Inside her bedroom, she rummaged through the walk-in closet, tossing couture lingerie over her shoulder until she found the silk knit kimono.

  She laid the robe, matching thong, and bra on her bed, then dashed into the bathroom. As she turned on the shower, her glance rested on the Jacuzzi tub. She wished she could linger in a bath-salt soak, but Angel had robbed her of time. It began when her heaven-sent daughter wouldn’t get out of bed and then battled over what she would wear. The final war was fought over a banana—Angel wouldn’t eat her Frosted Flakes without one.

  Asia had almost cried with relief when, fifteen minutes after she called Nicolas, her building’s concierge, two bananas were delivered to her apartment. She’d given one to Angel and smiled as she thought about what she could do with the other.

  Now, as the shower’s water caressed her like summer rain, her thoughts returned to the banana. She and Bobby had used all kinds of toys in their years together, but she couldn’t recall a banana.

  Asia shivered, but it wasn’t the thought of fruit that made her shudder. It was the words that, today, Bobby would finally say to her now that his ball-playing days with the Lakers were over.

  He’d contracted with the ESPN Los Angeles bureau to co-anchor a sports talk show. He’d be living in Los Angeles permanently. And that could mean only one thing.

  She was still a bit miffed that she’d found out about Bobby’s new position with the rest of the world, through a news conference almost two weeks ago. But then, she reasoned he was saving his new job as a surprise—along with the rest of today’s news.

  The anticipation made her giddy. She’d been this way since yesterday when he called.

  “Asia, I want to come by tomorrow. There’s something…” He’d paused. “I’ll come by right after Angel leaves for school.”

  She knew what this visit was about. She couldn’t stop her giggles—thinking of him. Of them. Of their daughter.

  She stepped from the shower and patted her copper-colored skin dry. She sucked in her belly. She hadn’t eaten a thing since Bobby called; her size 4 toned and shapely form looked as good as it did when she’d last seen him, three weeks before.

  Asia had just slipped into her feather-adorned stiletto mules when she heard the beeps of the alarm indicating the front door opening. A final glance in the mirror assured her that she was ready and she scurried toward the stairs. He was st
anding at the bottom, his keys dangling in his hand.

  Asia sauntered down; her open robe flowed behind her like a wedding-gown train.

  It was all that she could do to hold her gasp inside. Ten years, and Bobby still made her heart flutter. It was the way his broad shoulders framed his sculpted chest that even now, through the cotton of his shirt, showcased his muscles. It was the way his legs bowed, just enough to make her whimper, “Umph, umph, umph,” as she imagined his legs around her. It was the way he held his head, tilted a bit, like he was posing for an underwear ad and he knew he had the best face—and body—the camera had ever seen. Each time Asia laid eyes on the athletic Adonis, she was in love all over again.

  “Hey, baby,” she whispered, pulling her voice from her throat.

  His eyes glided over her, beginning at the fire-hot-red polish on her toes. She tossed her bone-straight hair over her shoulders and posed, hands on her waist. His eyes ingested all of her before she strutted forward and leaned into him. She felt the beat of his heart (and other parts), but after a moment, he eased away.

  She chuckled. He was ready to get right to it. And so was she. Three weeks—too long.

  “Asia.” Bobby cleared his throat. Turned away. “We need to talk.”

  She frowned and followed him into the living room. Settling onto the couch next to him, she asked, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “Asia, we’ve been together for a long time.”

  It came back to her—the reason he was here. Anticipation made her shake once more. She tried to keep her smile small as she glanced at her left hand. She wondered if he’d brought the ring with him, or would they shop for it together?

  He continued, “I never meant for things to go on like this for so long.” Finally, he looked at her.

  She pouted—just a bit—the way she knew he liked. “Baby, it’s okay. The past doesn’t matter. It’s about what’s happening now.”

  His forehead creased as if he didn’t understand.

  She couldn’t help it—her smile was broad. “Baby, I know what you’re going to say.”

  His frown deepened.

  She said, “I knew it as soon as you said you wanted to come over.” She cupped her hands over his. “Baby, I know this is hard, but it’s best for Caroline.” He flinched; she’d broken their silent rule—his wife’s name was never to be spoken. “And it’s best for me and Angel.”

  His eyes thinned; still not understanding.

  “Bobby, Angel is going to be so excited when we tell her we’re getting married.”

  He snatched his hands away from her. “No!” He stood, paced.

  “Baby, what is wrong with you?”

  With a breath, he said, “You don’t understand.” Another beat. “I’ve decided…to stay…with…my wife.”

  Asia frowned and wondered when Bobby had stopped speaking English.

  He continued, “With this offer from ESPN, I’m ready to make a change.”

  Still she could not understand.

  “I want to honor…my wife.”

  His words took her breath away. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, until he called her name.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What did you say?” she asked as if she dared him to repeat the nonsense he’d just spoken.

  He turned away and spoke over his shoulder. “I owe this to…my wife.”

  “Owe it to your wife?” Asia sprang from the couch. “What about me, Bobby?” she asked, getting in his face. “What do you owe me?”

  “You’ll never have to worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  “You think that’s enough?” Her head rolled with each spoken word.

  “Of course, I’ll take care of Angel too.”

  “Damn straight since she’s your daughter.” Asia stared at him. “I cannot believe this.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you were coming here to tell me you wanted to get married.”

  He looked at her as if she were now the one speaking a different dialect. “I never made you that promise.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “You always knew about my wife, where I stood.”

  “I knew that I was the woman you wanted. I knew that I was the woman who gave you a child. Bobby, this doesn’t make sense. What was all of this about?” Her arms flailed through the air as she looked around the massive living room.

  “This”—he paused and lowered his voice—“was about taking care of you.”

  “I thought this was about you loving me.”

  He stared—a moment passed—he turned away.

  Asia’s mouth opened wide. “Bobby, you’ve been screwing me for more than ten years.”

  “Why are you acting like you didn’t know the deal? Like you didn’t know that one day our affair would end.”

  “An affair is a couple of times. Maybe a year. Maybe two. We have a daughter. We have a commitment,” she screamed.

  “I never committed anything to you.”

  His words paralyzed her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

  “Asia,” he began, “don’t let this turn ugly.”

  Still, she stayed silent.

  “I’ll take care of you and Angel. We’ll arrange something that’ll work for both of us.”

  Still, she stood frozen.

  “I think…it would be best…until everything is settled…over the next few weeks, if we…just let the attorneys do the talking.”

  She began to thaw.

  He said, “Actually, for a little while, it might be better if we don’t see each other.”

  She flexed her fingers—imagined each one pressed around his neck.

  “And when you think about it, this is really going to be better for you, Asia.”

  Her legs trembled.

  “You’re a beautiful woman.” He moved closer to her. “There’s someone out there for you.”

  It was the ten years she’d spent waiting for him that sent her fists flying against his chest. She screamed, “You son of a—”

  “Stop it!” He grabbed her. “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “The right thing,” he freed her, “for both of us.”

  “This is not right for me.” She tightened her robe. “How could it be? I’ve spent ten years, being here, being there, being anywhere you wanted me to be. Doing anything you wanted me to do.”

  “You were paid well for it, Asia.”

  This time, she planned to kill him. But his six-foot-ten-inch frame stopped her hands before she could reach his neck.

  “Stop it,” he said, holding tight to her wrists.

  She twisted inside his grasp, waiting for the moment when she could scratch his eyes out.

  Still holding her, he pushed her down onto the couch. “We’re not going to do this. Both of us have too much class to end up on the front page of some tabloid.”

  She growled.

  He said, “I’m serious. I don’t want anything to happen here that later we’ll regret.” He held her down, until her breathing steadied. “I’m going to let you go now,” he said softly, “but I’m not going to let you hit me. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t respond and he clutched her wrists tighter.

  She squirmed. “You’re hurting me.”

  “I guess you understand. Don’t…” He left his warning there. Slowly, he eased his fingers from her.

  She glared at him as she massaged her wrists.

  “You’ll get a call from my lawyers in the next few days,” he said, once he was sure she wouldn’t budge. “But, Asia, understand that it’s time to move on.” His eyes stayed on her—even as he backed away.

  She stayed, bonded to the couch, continuing to rub where he’d hurt her on the outside. Not able to touch the place where he’d slain her on the inside.

  “Good-bye, Asia.” And then, he was gone.

  Asia didn’t move. She needed all of her energy to think, to come up with a plan. A way to mak
e Bobby Johnson pay big time for messing with Asia Ingrum.

  Chapter Four

  VANESSA MARTIN

  If he closed her husband’s coffin one more time, Vanessa was going to scream. And then the funeral director did it again. Then again. Over and over until Vanessa couldn’t take it anymore.

  She opened her mouth and her eyes at the same time. Her head swayed from side to side before consciousness returned. She pushed herself up and drank in her surroundings. She wasn’t at church. She was home. In her bedroom. The funeral had been over for hours.

  Vanessa swung her legs over the bed’s edge, stood, and smoothed the duvet. Then she did the same to the white flowered dress she’d worn to the funeral. The knit hadn’t wrinkled at all—she looked almost as fresh as she had this morning when she’d marched into the church with her head high and took that first seat in the first row. The chair of honor for this occasion.

  As she turned, she noticed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her waist had narrowed; her hips were much more slender. She’d dropped at least fifteen, maybe even twenty pounds in just over a week. A month ago she’d been ready to have her sister-in-law purchase those illegal diet pills. But she wouldn’t need them now. Death was the ultimate appetite suppressor. She hadn’t eaten a morsel since she’d received that horrific call.

  “Mrs. Martin?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is the coroner’s office.” The man hadn’t spoken another word before the scream rose from her center.

  Now she pressed her hands against her ears. She’d lived that moment every time she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it while she was awake.

  She stepped from the bedroom and paused. She could hear muffled voices, but it didn’t sound like many. Good. She’d get rid of whoever was left so that she could do what she had to do.

  Soundlessly, she moved down the stairs, through the living room. Outside the kitchen she stopped, listened.

  “I’ve tried to talk to her; I want her to spend a few days with me.” Her mother’s southern accent seemed thicker through her sniffles and Vanessa wondered if she’d been crying all of these hours. “But she keeps telling me no.”