Forever An Ex (11 page)

Chapter

Fourteen

I
'm going to make this up to you.” Bobby's voice came through my tablet screen.

I scooted back on the bed, leaned against the headboard, rested my iPad on my lap, then pouted. I went a little over the top so that Bobby could really see how disappointed I was.

“Awww, come on, Asia. You know there was nothing I could do.”

“But this was Valentine's Day,” I whined.

“Not was . . . is. It's not yet midnight, so I still have time to say ‘I love you.' ”

That was it! The L-word was all I needed to hear and it trumped everything else he'd done today. Even though we didn't have the chance to be with each other, Bobby had let his presence . . . and his love . . . be known.

First, he'd come by my condo this morning, under the guise of seeing Angel.

“Daddy!” Angel had exclaimed when she'd opened the door and Bobby was standing there. “What're you doing here? I thought you were picking me up from school.”

“I am,” he'd said just as I strolled down the stairs. He looked up at me when he said, “But today is a special day and I wanted to see you in person.” Even as he hugged Angel, he was looking at me. I blew him a kiss; he licked his lips.

Then, not ten minutes after he'd left, six dozen roses arrived with a card that said:
A dozen for each of the Valentine's Days I've missed.
That would've been enough right there. But as Ms. Martinez prepared the roses, separating them and cutting the stems, she found a gift box. One of those blue boxes that every woman loves.

And inside my blue box—a diamond tennis bracelet.

“I do love you, Asia.” His voice came through my tablet, taking me away from today's memories. Yes, Bobby saying those three words made up for not spending this night with him.

Really, though, I was just being a brat. I already knew that we weren't going to be together. This may have been Valentine's Day, but the bigger celebration—Angel's twelfth I'm-practically-a-teenager birthday.

And my daughter wasn't having an ordinary party. This was a weekend event, starting with a slumber party with her three closest friends tonight, then an actual party tomorrow with more than sixty guests, and then the finale, a brunch after church on Sunday to which more than twenty people were invited.

It was because of Angel's birthday that Bobby couldn't get to me. He couldn't leave Caroline at home alone with Angel and her friends.

“So, do you forgive me?” he said in a voice that was as sexy as his body.

Instead of telling him that all was forgiven, I stood, propped the tablet onto the nightstand, then stood back and began to unbutton my blouse . . . slowly.

“Ahhh, that's what I'm talking about,” Bobby said. “Show it to me in HD, baby.”

I tried to imagine myself on that big screen in his office and I hoped that soon I'd have a tour of his whole house—right after he kicked Caroline out. Plan B, ba-beee, was all I thought about.

As I undressed, Bobby did the same, and even though we were both trying to slow it down, we couldn't. We were too anxious to get to the good stuff.

I propped pillows up so that when I lay down, Bobby would see all of my splendor. Leaning back, I spread my legs into a split, and watched Bobby melt.

“Oh, baby,” he moaned.

“You like that?” I asked as I began my show.

He groaned his approval and then we both went to work. Well,
work
may not have been the right word . . . we both walked through the doors of pleasure. I closed my eyes and imagined that my hands were Bobby's, I imagined that everywhere my hands were, his tongue had been.

I wondered if Bobby's thoughts were the same as mine. I heard his moans, I savored his groans.

And then I heard, “Mom!”

My eyes popped open at the same moment that my heart stopped beating. I'd been so gone that it took a moment for me to focus. And right on my tablet screen, there was Angel, standing with her mouth open and her eyes moving from her father to me. Standing beside her were her friends, though I wasn't sure if those girls saw me; their eyes never moved from Bobby.

“Mom!” Angel looked right at me through the camera.

Finally, my veins pumped enough blood to my brain so that I could move. I jumped off the bed, grabbed my tablet, and turned it over. Right before I turned it off, I heard Angel's cry once again: “Mom!”

Why was she calling me? Her father was right in front of her.

And then I thought about her father. “Oh, God!” I squeezed my eyes tight. Bobby was there, all alone with those girls. Lying on the sofa butt-naked.

I'd just made the coward's move, shutting off my camera, leaving Bobby to handle this. But what else was I supposed to do?

It was too late to cover up now, but still, I grabbed my robe, then paced and trembled, and wondered what was going on at Bobby's house? Bobby had told me that he was in his office, that it was in a separate wing of his house, that Caroline never came in there. So why had Angel walked in?

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” I couldn't think of anything else to say and I couldn't figure out what to do. Should I call Bobby? Should I call Angel? Should I just wait?

No, I couldn't wait.

I picked up my cell phone and punched Bobby's name, praying the entire time as his phone rang. When the call went straight to voice mail, I hung up and then called him back because I was too afraid to call Angel.

But when Bobby didn't answer, I had to call my daughter. I had to see if she was all right or if she had been damaged for life. As her phone rang, I put myself inside Angel's shoes and walked into that room, and in my mind, I saw what she saw—the image of me on that big-screen TV. And then, her father. How long had she stood there?

I groaned right before my call went to voice mail. Not that I was surprised by that. Angel wouldn't be walking around the house with her phone. Especially since her friends were there with her . . . oh, God! Her friends!

Again I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did nothing to erase the image of Angel and those other eleven-year-olds. Standing there, staring at me, staring at Bobby, staring at what we were doing.

I took a few deep, cleansing breaths to steady my nerves. When my mind was clear enough to think, I sat down on the bed, trying to think this through. So, what were the issues? Yes, this was embarrassing; no parent wanted her child to walk in on anything sexual, but Bobby and I couldn't have been the first people this had happened to.

Really, the only issue was that now Angel knew about us, and what was so bad about that? I mean, we were going to tell her eventually, soon actually. The only thing that had happened tonight was that Angel finding us sped everything up . . . with Angel and Caroline.

The thought of Bobby's wife now finding out for sure put a little bit of a smile on my face and a whole bunch of joy in my heart. The more I thought about it, this was a very good thing. I wouldn't have to even worry anymore about getting pregnant.

Still, though, I had to make sure that Angel was all right. So, I called Bobby again. No answer. And then, Angel. No answer. Over and over I called. And each time—no answer. I could've waited, but then again, I couldn't. I was a mother who had to check on her daughter.

Quickly, I jumped back into the clothes that I'd just stripped off, and then, trying to beat the speed of light, I grabbed my wallet and keys and dashed out the door.

It had to be the frantic look on my face that made the valet bring my car up so quickly—in no more than five minutes, I was making the tires scream as I sped away.

Bobby's house was less than twenty minutes from my condo and that gave me time to think some more. By the time I rolled my car to a stop in front of his house, I was still anxious, but I had calmed myself down. I'd just explain this to Angel, and she'd be fine. And I had to remember the good part of what happened—Caroline would be gone.

When I jumped out of the car, Bobby's house was bright with lights shining from every window. It may have been close to one in the morning, but I was sure that anyone who had a beating heart inside this house was awake.

I rang the bell, then stuffed my hands into my jeans. When there wasn't a response after a few seconds, I rang the bell again, then banged on the door. I banged and banged until the door was finally opened.

“Bobby!” I exclaimed, and wrapped my arms around him.

The move must've surprised him at first, but then, instead of pulling me closer, he peeled my arms from his neck and pushed me back a bit. I took in his sober expression, drooping cheeks, and eyes that were bright and clear a half hour ago but were weary-looking now.

“Is everything okay?” I tried to push past him, but he blocked me before I could get to the door. I frowned. “I want to talk to Angel.”

He stepped toward me, making me edge farther away. “This isn't a good time.”

“What's wrong? Is Angel all right?”

With the tips of his fingers, he massaged his eyes and shook his head at the same time. “She's really upset.”

“Then I have to see her,” I said, moving once again toward the door. And again, he stopped me.

“No, Asia, really. This isn't a good time. Caroline is with her.”

“Caroline?” I said her name as if it were an insult. “I don't care about her; I need to be with Angel.”

He shook his head again. “She doesn't want to see you.”

“What?” I screamed so loud, my voice echoed through the after-midnight air. “What do you mean? I'm her mother. I can see her whenever I want to.”

Again, I pushed toward the door, but this time Bobby stopped me by planting his hands on my shoulders. “Please don't force this. She's really upset. Her and her friends . . .” He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, then whipped his head from side to side like he was in the middle of a nightmare. When he opened his eyes, he said, “You can talk to her in the morning.”

I crossed my arms. “Really, Bobby? Really? You think I'm going anywhere without seeing my daughter?” Now I had to see her, especially since she was so upset.

“Please, Asia.”

I answered him with a roll of my neck.

“All right.” He gave me a resigned sigh, but then just as he moved to the door, it opened and Caroline stepped out.

Before she could close the door behind her, though, I heard my child scream, “Go home, Mom! Just go home!”

The cries of my daughter made me push toward the door. I couldn't see her, but I heard her sobs.

I was blocked once again, but this time by Caroline. I glared at her smiling face. I was about to run over her like I was a linebacker when Bobby stopped me.

“Asia, it's late,” he said. “Angel is tired and upset. She's embarrassed and her friends are still here. Do you really want to make this worse for her?”

What was going on? How had I become the villain?

“Please,” Bobby said again. “Please.”

My glance moved from Bobby's pleading eyes to Caroline's smug face, and for a moment I was confused. Wasn't I the one who should have been standing here smirking at her?

“We'll call you in the morning,” Bobby said.

And then, “Mom Caroline!”

“Excuse me,” Caroline said to me as if I were intruding, “I have to go take care of my . . .”

She stopped, but she might as well have said it—
my daughter.

That was when I went from zero to sixty. My fingers curled into fists and I leaned back ready to take a swing.

But Caroline moved faster than me. She was in the house before I could do anything.

My chest was still heaving when I turned to Bobby. “What's going on?”

His eyes narrowed like he was confused. “You know what happened.”

“I'm talking about all of this. Me standing out here. Angel in there.”

“She's upset, Asia. All I want right now is to get her calmed down.”

“So, she doesn't want to see me, but she's fine with you?”

He shook his head. “Actually, she doesn't want to talk to me at all. The only one she wants right now is Caroline.”

I growled, though I didn't mean to do it out loud.

“I know you're upset, but let's be grateful that Caroline is here, and she's not taking what happened out on Angel.”

I paused for a moment and imagined Caroline holding, comforting, my daughter. “I'm not leaving.”

“I know you don't want to, but you heard Angel. Do you want her to be even more upset? All I'm saying is let's get her calmed down, and then you can talk to her in the morning.” He paused. “She'll probably call you before you even wake up.” Another pause. “Trust me on this, Asia.” And then in the moment that it took me to blink, he turned and stepped into his house. Without another word, without a hug, without anything, he just walked away.

I stood there, not quite knowing what had happened. I didn't have Angel, and I didn't have Bobby.

How in the world had this happened?

Chapter

Fifteen

I
hate you, Mom! I hate you!”

“No, Angel, no!”

When she turned and ran away from me, my eyes snapped open. Where was I? Where was Angel?

Frantically, my eyes swept the room.

Tick . . . tick . . . tick.

My eyes moved to the clock, and then, in the almost silence, every memory rushed back, making me moan. I jumped up, but then hardly moved. My neck was stiff, my lower back ached from sitting up on the sofa all night.

My plan had been to stay awake and then head back to Bobby's the moment the sun rose. I hadn't even taken off my clothes, but I guess that didn't matter to my exhausted body. I'd slept, though it was never restful sleep. Remnants of my nightmares remained in my mind: Angel crying. Angel screaming. Angel walking away from me forever.

As I glanced once again at the clock, the time shocked me. How had I slept till ten? And why hadn't Angel or Bobby called?

I picked up my wallet and keys, dashed to the door, then paused with my hand on the knob. I needed to take a shower . . . or at least brush my teeth and wash my face. But then I remembered my dreams and I walked right through my door. I might have been funky, but there were some things more important than washing up.

Just like last night, I was in my car within five minutes. Then another fifteen, and I was back at Bobby's. This time I didn't even think about the doorbell. I banged on the door like I was Homeland Security.

The door was opened within seconds and I recognized the woman. She was the same one who'd let me in six years ago when I'd come to Bobby's home to break up his marriage. Well, it may have taken me six years, but this time
that
mission was accomplished.

I couldn't celebrate, though. Not until I knew Angel was fine.

“May I help you?” the woman asked, peeking through the small sliver of space that she'd given herself by barely opening the door.

“I'm here to see my daughter,” I said, pushing past her. Stomping through their massive foyer, I headed toward the stairs.

“Miss!”

I kept moving, but when I was halfway up the steps, Caroline appeared at the top.

“Angel's not here.” Then she took steps toward me.

I stopped, though I wondered if she was lying.

When we stood on the same stair, she said, “If you don't believe me, you can check.”

I
didn't
believe her, so I ran up the stairs, then turned left. I'd only been this far in Bobby's house one other time, on Christmas Day, so I knew how to get to Angel's bedroom.

My steps were really stomps as I marched across the carpet. I busted into the room at the end of the hall; it was the right room, but like Caroline said, Angel was not in it. She'd been there; the clothes and suitcases strewn across the room like a hurricane had blown through proved that.

My first mind was to search through every room, but I didn't know this house. And according to Bobby there were a couple of wings. So, I turned back and ran down to the living room, where I was sure Caroline was waiting.

Just as I thought, she was there, standing in front of the fireplace and looking down at a photo she held.

She didn't even bother to look up when she said, “This is one of my favorite pictures of me, Bobby, and Angel.”

I flexed my fingers. “Where's Angel?”

She said nothing as she returned the photo to the mantel, then slowly, deliberately, lined the frame up with the others. Finally, she turned to me. “She's not here.”

“Don't play games with me, Caroline.”

Her left eyebrow arched. “Games? I'm not the one . . . playing games,” she said. “I wasn't the one . . . playing games on that big-screen television last night.”

Well, I understood what this was about. Caroline was hurt, finally realizing that she'd lost Bobby to me. But I wasn't going to go back and forth with her over that. Not right now. “If you don't want to tell me where Angel is, I'll sit right here”—I plopped onto the sofa—“and wait. She has to come back soon.” I glanced at my watch. “What time does her party start?”

Caroline shook her head. “There isn't going to be a party.”

I jumped up. “What do you mean?”

“Angel's party has been canceled.”

“What?” Was Caroline really going to take this out on Angel like that? “You're nothing but a vindictive little—” Before I could go straight reality-show ratchet on her, she held up her hand.

“Oh, this wasn't my fault,” Caroline said. “If you want to call anyone a vindictive little . . . what were you going to call me?” She paused. “Angel canceled her party. She was humiliated last night in front of her friends and she doesn't want to face anyone right now.” She shook her head as if she couldn't believe it. “So, it is you who caused Angel's pain, not I.”

Caroline's words played over a couple of times in my head before I whispered, “Angel canceled her party?”

Caroline looked straight at me when she said, “I guess it's difficult for a child to feel like celebrating after finding out that her mother and her father are nothing more than . . .” She held her forefinger up and moved it in a circular motion. “What's the word I'm looking for . . .
tramps
, or
whores
, maybe.”

I wanted to rip this lady apart, but before I could go in on her, I had to find out about Angel. “Whatever happened with me and Bobby we'll have to handle later. Right now my only concern is Angel.”

“Oh, so now you're concerned about her?”

“Where is she?”

“She's with a friend. She didn't want to stay here.”

“Then you should've called me. I would've come and taken her home.”

“She's not trying to get away from me,” Caroline said as if that fact were obvious. “She wanted to leave because of you; she knew you'd be back and I think her exact words were ‘I never want to see my mother again.' ”

My eyes became thin like slits. My daughter was twelve, and yes, she was prone to being a bit melodramatic, but this? “I'm going to ask you one more time . . . where's my daughter?”

“You know the interesting thing about young girls,” Caroline began.

I frowned. I didn't know where this chick was heading, but I was going to give her ten seconds before I was all up on her.

She kept on: “Young girls are so impressionable.” She kinda chuckled. “For example, take our lovely Angel. A couple of years ago, I convinced her to watch an old TV show. And while we were watching
Fame
, I made a few observations about how she was much better than any of those kids . . . and then all of sudden Angel wanted to go to school in New York.”

My frown deepened.

Caroline said, “And then Angel and I took that wonderful trip to Paris . . . that just happened to pop up on my schedule.”

I crossed my arms and tried to steady my breathing.

“Amid all of that shopping and sightseeing and girl talk, she's telling me that she loves me as much as she loves her own mother.” Caroline held her hand to her chest like she was touched, and at that moment I knew she was touched all right. She was touched in the head. She was, like, crazy.

“And then we had that wonderful slumber party last night to set off this birthday weekend.” She paused. “Did you know last night was my idea? I
wanted
Angel here with her friends.”

A chill rushed through me.

“And since they were all here, I thought they should have fun exploring the house. So, I sent her and her little friends on an adventure to the other wing. The wing that has always been off-limits to her, but last night it wasn't.”

I had to take in a mouthful of air. My daughter had been set up by this witch.

“You knew?” I whispered.

“Knew what, Chiquita?” She said, “Are you asking me if I knew that you were screwing my husband?” She chuckled again. “Come on. I never ask a question unless I already know the answer. I knew you were having . . .” She paused. “What is that called? Video sex?” She shuddered. “Well, anyway, I knew you were doing that TV stuff, and I knew you were once again spreading your legs for Bobby Johnson. I knew it all, and only came to your place to give you a friendly warning. But you were too dumb to accept my advice.”

“So . . . what's this? You're mad about me and Bobby and so you hurt my daughter?”

“I didn't do that; you did. She's mad at you, not me.”

“You really think you can turn my daughter against me?” I laughed, though I didn't feel as confident as I sounded.

“I already have,” she said. She spoke with such calm, such coolness, and such certainty that all I could do was believe her.

That was when my heart started pounding, but I wasn't about to let Caroline see me weak. “So, what's your plan?” I asked, pretending to be as cool as she was. “You think you can keep her away from me? Bobby would never let you do that.”

She waved her hand as if Bobby didn't matter. “He's not going to have much of a choice in this. Angel doesn't want to have anything to do with him either.”

Did Caroline really think this was going to work? As if once I saw Angel, I wouldn't be able to talk to her, explain to her, get her to understand. “Look, I'm not going through this with you anymore. Just tell me, where's Angel?”

She hesitated as if she was considering my words. Then, “You want your daughter?” Another pause. “Give me back my husband.”

I opened my eyes so wide, my vision would never be the same. “Are you freakin' kidding me?”

“Do I look like I'm
freakin'
kidding?”

“You're bargaining with my daughter? Holding her for ransom?”

Caroline squished her nose as if she smelled something nasty. “
Ransom
is such a dirty word.”

I moved toward her. “You know, you're nothing but a low-down, dirty—”

Before I could say every curse word I'd ever heard, she said, “Uh . . . before you call me out of my name, what would you call a woman who goes around sleeping with other women's husbands?”

“I don't do that,” I said. Then, with a smirk, I added, “I've only had yours.”

Her face and body stiffened and I felt like I'd scored a point, except I was still losing in this game.

“You need to know, Chiquita,” Caroline said with her voice so tight her lips hardly moved, “that I'm way more than these clothes and my money. Because clearly, you've been fooled by my class. But let me tell you something.” Now she was the one who closed the gap between us. She came so close that I thought she was about to try to jump bad with me. Oh, I wanted her to do it. I wanted her to take one swing so that I could release all of my rage on her.

We were inches apart when she said, “You and I are so much alike. Haven't you noticed?”

I didn't say a word.

She continued, “We may have grown up differently, and I may have money and class while you have”—she paused as if she had to think about it—“nothing,” she said, like she'd found the perfect word. “But I am just like you because I am still a black woman. And a black woman—with money or without money—doesn't play.”

“So you're going to use my daughter?”

She answered with a shrug.

I asked, “Why do you want to be with Bobby if he doesn't want to be with you?”

She frowned and shook her head a little like she was confused. “What are you talking about? Bobby wants to be with me . . . we've been together all these years. And so why should I give up on my marriage? Being Mrs. Bobby Johnson gives me a certain, shall we say, cachet. And, there are major benefits for him having married a Fitzgerald. He doesn't want to give that up. Bobby may have made a lot of money in his career, but it's nothing compared to my daddy. My family's fortune will always keep that wedding ring on Bobby's finger.”

There was a part of me that believed her, but then the other part remembered how Bobby and I were together. He really loved me; he told me and he showed me. He had enough money; he didn't need hers.

Caroline kept talking. “Bobby just gets a little off track sometimes and I have to remind him.” She sighed like the task made her weary. “But I've done it so many times since we've been married, it's just something that I have to do.”

So many times? I frowned. “What?” The word escaped from me before I could stop myself.

She stared at me for a moment, then laughter was in her eyes when she said, “Wait, you don't think you're the only ho, do you?”

I pressed my lips together and now she laughed out loud.

And laughed. And laughed.

And all I could do was stand there until she finished.

“Oh, Chiquita, you do amuse me.” She paused to let a few more chuckles escape through her lips. “Bobby has had so many hos over the years it's not even funny. But you thought”—she started to laugh again—“. . . you thought you were the only one.” More laughter. “Right now he's probably with three or four . . . not counting you.”

I wanted to punch her in her face. Just knock her out so that she would stop lying.

She continued, “Just last week I caught him in that room doing whatever he does with some ho”—she paused and looked me up and down—“much younger than you. But he was in his room and they were doing all kinds of nasty things on that TV.”

I was crying inside, but I wasn't going to let one tear seep out of me. Not one.

It wasn't enough for her to stab me, she had to twist the knife, too. “That's why Bobby got that TV, that's why he has that room, that's why I knew what was going on last night, and since it was after midnight, I knew he'd be with you because you're his late-night ho. The one he goes to when he's just about asleep.”