The Ex Files (20 page)

V
ANESSA

“My goodness,” Wanda exclaimed the moment she opened the door.

“Hello, Mother.” Vanessa kissed Wanda’s cheek before she stepped into the home where she’d lived with her mother until she’d married. She didn’t travel much to Compton; it just seemed too far from Inglewood. But each time she made her way south on the freeway, she wondered why she didn’t come home more often.

“What are you doing here? And it’s certainly about time that you came to visit.”

She remembered why she stayed away.

“Are you all right?” Wanda exchanged her surprise with a frown.

Vanessa nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She wandered around the room’s perimeter, stepping into the time capsule that it was.

For most of her life, it had been just she and her mother; she had little memory of her father, who died when she was five. Even though she never doubted Wanda’s love, it wasn’t enough. She’d grown up with a wounded heart, a hole in her center where love from her father was supposed to be. Even as a little girl she knew that she deserved to be loved, by at least one man in her lifetime.

And then she met Reed.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

There was not a word Wanda could utter that would irritate Vanessa today. “I wanted to see you.”

Finally Wanda granted her daughter a smile. “Well, I’m glad to see you.” She lowered herself onto the sofa and patted a space next to her. “Come sit, let’s visit.”

Vanessa smoothed her dress before she eased onto the plastic-covered couch.

“You look well.”

“I feel great, Mother. I really do.”

“You don’t know how good that makes me feel. I’ve been so worried.” The smile left her face. “I know how hard it is.” She sniffed.

“Mother, it’s all right.” Vanessa slipped her hand into Wanda’s. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I’ll always worry. As long as you’re my daughter. And that’s going to be for a very long time.”

Now Vanessa’s smile was gone. Leaving Wanda behind was her only regret.

“Well, dear, I’ve already eaten, but I made a roast.” She pushed herself up. “I’ll fix you a plate.”

“No, Mother, I can’t. I have a meeting.”

Wanda frowned.

“A prayer meeting…at church.”

“Really.” Wanda returned to the sofa. “You are doing better. Have you gone back to work?”

“Not yet.” She turned her eyes away, let her glance roam through the room once more. “But I will soon. I just wanted to come by for a moment. I have to go now.”

“Well, make sure you tell your pastor I said hello.”

“I will.” Vanessa took a breath. “Mother, the key I gave you—I need to get it back.”

Wanda groaned. “You’re still upset with me about that?”

“No, I’m not.”

“All I’m guilty of is trying to take care of you. All I did was cook dinner.”

“Mother, I’m not upset.”

“Then why would you ask your own mother to return a key to your home?”

“Because…” The anguish imprinted on Wanda’s face made her stop. “You know what, Mother. I don’t need the key.”

Wanda’s frown melted. “I promise I’ll always call first.”

Vanessa stood. “I’d better get to the meeting.”

“Now that you’re feeling better, maybe we can spend a bit more time together.”

“That would be nice.” Vanessa took a final glance around the room where she’d watched
The Cosby Show, Diff’rent Strokes
, and
Miami Vice
. Where she’d listened to Michael Jackson, Kool and the Gang, and Prince. The room where she’d loved life the most—until she met Reed. By the time she turned back to her mother, tears had taken their place in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mother.” She hugged Wanda, imprinting the memory of her feel, her scent in her mind.

Wanda said, “Take care; I love you, sweetheart.”

It took the strength of a champion to hold back her sobs. “I love you, too, Mama.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and then turned away, before Wanda could see the distress on her daughter’s face that told the story of what was to come.

A
SIA

“I really appreciate this,” Asia said as Bobby stepped into the apartment, his hands filled with an oversized stuffed bear. “I didn’t know if you could get away on a Saturday night.”

“No problem. Caroline’s in Dallas.” He paused, waiting for her reaction. When Asia said nothing, he continued, “Where’s Angel?”

“In her room. I didn’t tell her you were coming by, in case…” She stopped, her unspoken words hanging in the air.

Bobby frowned. “In case what, Asia?”

She held up her hands. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that you haven’t been by to see her as often as you said you would.”

“I was busy at the station last week.”

“No problem.”

“No, it is a problem. I made a promise to see Angel a couple of times a week and now that I’m getting settled, I’ll be by more.”

She smiled. That’s what she needed. Consistency. “Thanks. And I also want to thank you for the settlement. I got the papers and signed them. I’m glad you’re recognizing Angel legally.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“And the money for me…” She’d been impressed with the way Bobby set that up. An irreversible trust fund that fit perfectly into her plan.

“You deserved that, Asia. You earned it.” She flinched and he added quickly, “What I mean is—”

She held up her hand. “It’s fine.”

His glance inched over her and his eyes shined—he appreciated the leather bustier and pants she wore. “Where’re you going? Got a big date?”

She crossed her arms, said nothing.

He grinned and moved toward the staircase.

“Wait, I’ll call her down.” Asia picked up her jacket. “I want to say good night.”

Only a few seconds passed before Angel came dashing down the steps. “Daddy!”

“Hey, pumpkin.” Bobby knelt to embrace his daughter, and pecked her on the lips.

Angel wrapped her arms around his neck. “Is that for me?” She pointed to the stuffed animal.

“Yup. And guess what? I’m going to stay with you tonight while Mommy goes out.”

“Where are you going, Mommy?”

“Out.” She kissed her daughter. “Have a good time and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Angel nodded.

“Thanks again, Bobby.” Asia grabbed her purse and reached for the door. Before she stepped into the hallway, she turned back to see Bobby lifting Angel and squeezing her tight.

Over his shoulder, Angel grinned at her mother.

Asia’s eyebrows folded into a deep frown. She shook her head slightly and waited until Angel’s smile went away. When her daughter’s expression matched her own, Asia closed the door.

The thick-necked bouncer at Chaos waved at Noon and pulled aside the velvet rope. Noon and Asia shifted through the body-pressed-against-body crowd, and Asia resisted the urge to cover her ears from the blasting music.

“Do you want a mojito?” Noon yelled, once they stood at the bar.

Asia shook her head; she’d called Noon and made arrangements to meet her, but getting her party on was not part of the agenda. As she waited, she surveyed the club’s scene. It was amazing, the way Chaos still stood after ten years. This had been one of their every-weekend hangouts when it first opened. Back then they’d used fake IDs to gain entry. Now, years later, Chaos was the same—teeming with twenty-something-year-old women clad in dresses that fit like skin, jiggling their silicone chests in the faces of twenty-, thirty-, forty-year-old men who flashed thick wallets, willing to pay mucho dinero for that one-night hookup.

With her drink in hand, Noon squeezed through the sweaty bodies, beckoning Asia to follow, until they stood in the corner.

“So,” Noon began, “what brings you out tonight?”

Asia shrugged. “Just trying to move on.”

“That’s a good thing.” Noon snapped her fingers as Usher belted out, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!” “Get the cash and move on. You’ll find a new mark soon. Probably one with lots more money than Bobby.”

I ain’t sayin’ she’s a gold digger…
.

“Heeeyyyy,” Noon sang, bobbing her head to the beat, “that’s my soooong.” She raised her glass above her head and dipped her hips. A guy in a cobalt-blue suit that shined, eased behind Noon and swiveled his hips in rhythm with hers. Without a word exchanged, the two sashayed onto the parquet floor.

Asia’s sigh was filled with exhaustion, but she had to stay well past the other side of midnight to work her plan.

“You look exactly like what I need at home.”

Asia didn’t bother to turn around to see who’d delivered that sorry line. She folded her arms, kept her eyes on the bodies gyrating to Kanye and Jamie.

“Oh, you’re one of dem sistahs. Because you’re light-skinded you think you’re too good. Well, let me tell you—”

Asia stepped away before the name calling began because she didn’t know what she would do if one of these men called her out of her name tonight.

I don’t belong here
. This time her sigh was one of longing. She wished for the time when her life was filled with Bobby. He’d taken her away from this, but now she was back—because of him. Still, even as she exacted her plan for revenge, she wanted him. She wanted him as much now as she had then….

Seventeen-year-old Chiquita hadn’t been able to focus on the rest of the Lakers game once Jamal told her about the party for the rookies. Her mind bounced with ideas.

The next day, Chiquita rushed home to the computer Aunt Beverly had given her. Within minutes, she was perusing articles featuring the Lakers. She zoomed in on the single ones—she was going to have her own man.

Pages of information told her all she wanted to know. But it was the photographs that fascinated her. The Lakers were pictured at games and other events—with their wives and with their women. Within minutes, Chiquita was able to pick out the wives from the others. The wives wore an aura—they donned their class and confidence like expensive accessories to their designer suits.

Chiquita had risen from her desk, turned to the mirror, and began to see her own magnificence. She was exactly the kind of woman these men seemed to want. Finally, her fair skin and hair that curled with the humidity was going to deliver something more than the taunting and teasing that had beset her during her childhood years.

That night, Chiquita never closed her eyes. Her plan had been to find a boyfriend, but the truth was, she was born to be a wife.

And so Chiquita went to school; the course—How to Become an NBA Player’s Wife. She pushed aside her schoolbooks and friends and read every piece of Lakers information she could find—their schools, rise to fame, statistics. She studied, committed the facts to memory as if she were preparing for final exams.

With that done, she moved into phase two. But for this part, she’d need money. The only people she knew, besides Jamal, who had dollars were her grandmother and Aunt Beverly. She knew which woman would more easily believe her lies.

“Three thousand dollars!” Hattie Mae had exclaimed. “That’s a lot of money, chile.”

“I know, Grandma Mae. But my counselor said this prep course will help me when I go to Santa Monica College. And that’s what I’ll need to transfer to UCLA or even USC.”

When her grandmother’s lips still twisted in doubt, Chiquita added, “The counselor said I’ll get a full scholarship to one of those schools if I take this course.”

Hattie Mae Ingrum didn’t need another word. Her granddaughter? A scholarship? To UCLA or USC? She marched straight to the bank and made an early withdrawal on one of her CDs.

Magazines became Chiquita’s textbooks. But the first glance through
Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar
, and
Vanity Fair
revealed that three thousand dollars wasn’t nearly enough. Now she had only one place to turn.

Chiquita waited until Saturday night, after a movie, when they went to the Golden Foxx Motel and she had sexed Jamal into a peaceful sleep. As he snored, she planned her words, then shook his shoulder gently.

“Ummm,” he’d moaned, his tone sated with satisfaction.

“I was thinking about the Lakers party next weekend. I need a new dress, so that I can look good”—she paused, leaned closer, purred—“for you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, the way I whipped it on you tonight, I know you want to look good for Daddy.”

She winced, hating his use of that word. She didn’t know her father, but still, that name was reserved for someone special—not Jamal.

He said, “My wallet’s over there. Take what you need.”

She inhaled. “I want to get a designer dress.”

He raised his head a bit. “I said my wallet’s on the table.”

“Can you give me three thousand dollars?”

This time his entire body rose up. “What!”

It had taken the rest of the night to talk (and do other things) to convince Jamal that only a designer dress would do.

With Jamal’s thousands tucked next to her grandmother’s, Chiquita traveled downtown to the Mart, where she chose three designer outfits that were sure to leave somebody’s son at her mercy.

The night before the party, she’d returned to the upscale magazines. She had to come up with a new name, something befitting the woman she was going to become, because Chiquita would never do….

“Asia, please don’t tell me you’re going to waste the night,” Noon said, bringing her friend’s thoughts back to the present. When Asia said nothing, Noon grabbed her hand. At the bar, she ordered a mojito and then handed it to Asia. “Get on with your life. To new beginnings,” Noon said, clicking her glass against Asia’s.

Yes. Asia sipped. New beginnings would start right after she made Bobby pay.

“Umph, umph, umph. Baby, I wish I could rearrange the alphabet.”

Asia took another sip, and then turned to the voice. A man who looked as old as Billy Dee, but was not nearly as fine, sauntered up to her as if he really were the actor. In a
Quiet Storm
kind of voice, he said, “’Cause if I could do that, I’d put U and I together.”

Noon sighed, impressed. Asia groaned, unmoved.

Noon whispered, “New beginnings.”

Asia took another sip of her drink; then as 50 Cent flowed about birthdays and clubs, she grabbed the man’s hand and led him to the middle of Chaos.

The memories of better times traveled through her as she watched Bobby sleep.

Who’s your daddy?

It was the corniest line ever, but still, she loved Bobby asking her that as they lay together.

“You are,” she’d respond always. “You’re my daddy.”

She’d expected to call him that forever.

Asia allowed herself another moment before she gently touched Bobby’s arm.

He stretched, then his eyes fluttered open. “What time is it?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Almost three.” Asia suppressed a yawn. It was long past the time when she’d wanted to come home, but besides making sure Bobby had enough time with Angel, she’d hoped the passing hours made him wonder.

Like earlier, his eyes roved over her, and she fought the urge to smile. She asked, “Everything fine with Angel?”

He nodded. “She’s asleep now, but that little girl tried to read me every book in her room.”

“Thanks for doing this, Bobby.” She led him to the door.

He paused, staring at her for a moment. “Thank you for making this easy,” he said. “I never thought we’d be this way.”

Before she could help it, she said, “What way? Over? I never thought we’d be over either.”

His eyes darkened, but softly he said, “I never meant to hurt you.”

She shrugged. “No regrets, remember.”

He nodded and then suddenly leaned forward. Brushed his lips against her forehead. Stayed there. When she didn’t back away, he wrapped his arms around her.

Asia closed her eyes, wondered if she should take him to bed. Love him, and make him forget all that he’d said.

“Another time, another place.” His voice was husky. “If Caroline—”

Her eyes snapped open and she ripped away from his embrace, tore up her thoughts.

With sad eyes, he stepped into the hallway.

Asia leaned against the closed door, grateful that he’d spoken his wife’s name.

“Stay focused,” she demanded as she made her way up the stairs.

Inside Angel’s room, she turned on the lamp. “Sweetie, wake up.”

Like her father, Angel stretched, then her eyes fluttered open. “Mommy? Is it morning?”

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Angel sat up in the bed, still groggy. “I’m okay.”

Asia shook her head. Lowered her eyes. “Was everything good with Daddy?”

“We had a good time.” She paused. Looked at her mother’s sad face again. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

Asia pressed her lips together before she said, “When I came home, your father”—she paused, lowered her voice—“was in bed with you. Was Daddy sleeping in the bed with you?”