The Ex-Wife (9 page)

A
fter Cam and I had each other for lunch, he suggested we hook up for dinner somewhere close. He had a few showings and I
needed to rest. I had to turn in the first draft of my book and currently it seemed scatterbrained and rushed. I really felt
that my first couple of books had been easy and simple to research. The book I was currently working on was about marriage.
While my sister and my parents seemed to have relatively healthy marriages, I didn’t have a lot of hands-on knowledge. I had
been somewhat reluctant to write this new book, but I was under contract and had to write something.

I hadn’t imagined that buying a house would take so much of the emotional wind out of me. I wasn’t sure if I should go home
and rest or if I should try hashing out a couple of chapters. I felt so uninspired.

When Cam and I parted, he had looked so happy, as if he’d been touched by an angel. Not to say that I am one, but he just
seemed at peace, as if nothing in this world could bother him. I went back to my apartment, showered, and curled up in my
bed.

Almost immediately after I began to doze off, “Hey sista, soul sista, hey sista, soul sista” blasted from my phone. I grabbed
it. “What’s up, Aaliyah?”

“OK, Sister. You have my consent to date Realtor boy.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but…”

“You already hooked up with him again?”

“No,” I lied.

“Well, he looks finger-licking good.”

“Ill, Aaliyah, that sounds nasty.”

“I mean it in a respectful kind of way. I like him for you. Now what’s the story again with his wife?”

“He showed me the divorce papers.”

“Oh well, you better get to work.”

“You ought to know me better than that.”

“Yeah, I know you all right. I know you are good at talking yourself out of a relationship.”

“Chick, you’re the one that talked me out of dating him.”

“I did, but that was before I saw him. He is so adorable. And plus I loved that he interacted with the girls. That’s a plus.
What can I say? I like him.”

“Well, thanks for your approval, but I have to go to sleep.”

“No, don’t go to sleep. Stay up and talk to me.”

“I wish I was a housewife and could sleep when I wanted but I have to get it in where I can.”

“Don’t play me like that, Ayana. You know my job takes serious skills.” She laughed.

Nothing takes more skills than being great at three different careers. I was exhausted. She said something else but I had
dozed off. Jumping awake, I realized she had already hung up the phone. I turned my ringer off before going back to sleep
because I didn’t want anything or anyone to interrupt me.

When I woke up, it was close to seven o’clock. Cam and I had agreed to meet at the Cheesecake Factory at six. I checked my
phone. He had called three times and left one text message.
WHERE R U?

I leaped up and called him. “Cam, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and I’m just getting up.”

“Well, lucky for you, I didn’t get here until six thirty and it’s like a two-hour wait. I figured you’d be here sooner or
later.”

He didn’t seem to have questioned whether I’d really show. Rather confident, but I loved it. My one concern with Cam was the
possibility that he’d been so scarred by his ex-wife that he would have a hard time trusting. He didn’t seem anxious because
I hadn’t arrived and that was appealing. I quickly put on my clothes and rushed to the Cheesecake Factory.

I valet-parked and ran in to find Cam sitting at the bar. He smiled. “We lost our table.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. We’re going to have fun anyway,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks for being a good sport.”

“Always.”

“What did you think happened?” I asked.

“I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think you wouldn’t show without calling. I thought maybe you got caught up at work. I lose track
of time all the time, so I understand how it is.”

“I’m glad you understand. After wearing all these different hats, sometimes I don’t know my head from my ass.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Well, I’m glad you’re getting out to have some fun.”

“Yea,” I said, laughing.

“Working like that, how do you plan to take your trip to the Mediterranean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you flexible? I mean, can you take off if you need to?”

“I can always take a break from my practice, but your boy would have a conniption if I have to take off from the show. There’s
another female psychologist that stands in for me when I’m on vacation, but she and Quentin butt heads.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I know. He can’t stand her.”

We had dinner, shared a piece of cheesecake, and talked for a while longer. Neither of us asked where the other was going
next. We just seemed to walk out of the restaurant with the intent that we were going somewhere together. In the parking lot,
I handed a valet my ticket, as did Cameron. Cam’s guy swiftly ran off into the parking lot. My guy was still rummaging through
the cabinet. He came back and asked, “Ma’am, are you sure that was your number?”

“I’m positive. Why?”

He didn’t answer and went back to search through the keys. By this time, Cam’s car had arrived. My eyes shifted back and forth
and my breathing got heavier the longer I waited. Finally the guy returned. With a distraught look, he said, “I can’t seem
to find your key.”

“So where do you think it could be?”

He shrugged.

“Is there a manager here?”

Cameron stepped in and said, “There is obviously some confusion. Can she look through the keys you have to see if her key
is there? Maybe there was a mix-up with the tickets.”

The guy said, “Sure.”

Cam rested his hand on the small of my back as I frantically looked through the keys.

“Mine aren’t there and I assume one of the employees must be off on a joyride.”

The valet said, “I’ll get my manager.”

Cam’s jawline throbbed as if it were revving with anger. I reached out for his hand because I wanted to let him know that
I was calm and there was no need to get confrontational yet. The young valet whom I’d given the car to originally looked nervous
and frightened. Obviously someone had messed up, but I wasn’t going to take it out on him. Not yet, anyway. Cam on the other
hand looked as if he could take the poor kid’s head off. When the manager arrived, Cam spoke first. “Listen, man. My lady
parked her car here around seven forty-five, we had dinner, and now her keys are gone.”

“What kind of car do you drive?” he asked.

“White Toyota Prius.”

With a troubled expression, he said, “Hmmm. We’ve never had this issue before.”

“Well, you have it now and what are you planning to do about it?” Cam asked irritably.

The manager looked at the guys. “Did you see the car parked?”

They both shrugged and one said, “I don’t even remember you coming in and I was here at seven thirty.”

I looked at the other guy and said, “He’s the one that parked my car.”

He said, “I don’t remember.”

The manager covered his face. “Today’s his first day.”

Everyone turned to the valet and he looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole. I felt bad for him, but still wanted to know
where my car had gone. The manager asked, “Where’s the ticket?”

I handed it to him and he quickly said, “This ticket is blue. We are using yellow today.”

The guy who had parked my car raised his hands defenselessly and said, “I don’t know what happened.”

The manager attempted to explain. “We change ticket colors every day and it’s primarily for this reason. So there is no confusion.
I don’t understand how you’d get a blue ticket. Look right here. There are only yellow tickets available today. I don’t even
put a different color close to the tickets.”

“So you’re saying there is no way a blue ticket could have gotten in this stack?”

“Exactly.”

“Listen, I don’t know how it got there. I wasn’t here yesterday. I came today and parked my car and the new guy gave me blue.”

Noticing the situation was getting out of control, Cam dialed the police. I continued to debate the situation with the manager
and the kid. Still my car didn’t appear, and my blood was beginning to boil.

It took the officer nearly fifteen minutes to arrive at the scene. Cam and I stood there discussing what might have happened.
I suggested his ex-wife or someone else. We ruled it out merely because of the ticket-color issue. The perpetrator had to
be an employee. There was no question about it. When the officer flashed his light on my ticket and the tickets in the cabinet,
he said, “This ticket is blue and the ones in here are yellow.” Looking at the manager, he asked, “Is there any reason for
that?”

The manager said, “The reason is to avoid situations like this. I was just telling her there is no way she could have gotten
this ticket from here. Not today. We change colors every day.”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to park cars, so certainly one of the goofs can screw up,” Cam said impatiently.

It vexed me that the valets were running back and forth fetching other cars and mine was missing. I just covered my face.
Cam massaged my shoulder as he debated with the manager.

“There is no way you could have gotten
this
ticket today.”

“She wasn’t here yesterday so there’s no way she could have gotten
this
ticket yesterday.”

The officer then turned to me. “Are you absolutely certain that you parked your car here?”

“Yes, I’m very certain.”

The officer took notes while asking questions. I got irritated after a while. “I am the victim. Why are you speaking to me
as if I did something wrong?”

“Just trying to get the facts.”

“Listen, man. Obviously her car is missing. We need you to write a report so she can call her insurance company,” Cam demanded.

“Have you been drinking or doing drugs?”

“I had one drink this evening and I am completely aware of what I did when I pulled into this lot. I gave my car to him, tipped
him two dollars, took the ticket, and walked into the restaurant. That’s all you need in your report.”

The officer looked at the manager. “Can I see your tapes?”

The manager huffed. “We’ve been waiting all week for someone to come to fix the cameras.”

“What do you mean?” the officer asked.

“Our surveillance is broken.”

Cam stepped in. “OK, so there is no surveillance. No one has seen her car that she parked right here. Wow. You all will be
hearing from my attorney in the morning.”

The manager said, “There is no need for all of that, sir. We will get to the bottom of this. Trust me.”

Cam laughed. “She trusted you with her car. I think that’s enough.” He turned to the officer. “So are you going to report
it stolen or what?”

My heart sank.
Stolen.
Despite the entire fiasco, I hadn’t been considering my car stolen. When he said it, it sounded so finite, as if the car
was gone forever. Cam noticed the air leaving my body and put his arms around me, holding me tightly. I felt safe despite
all that was going on around me. I leaned my head against his chest and he stroked my back.

The officer called the car in as a stolen vehicle and handed us a report. He got all our contact information, and then explained,
“When you call your insurance company you’ll need to give them this report number. If your car ends up in the pound we’ll
give you a call.”

“The pound?”

“Yeah, usually that happens, and unfortunately you’ll need to pay to get it out. I just want to give you a heads-up.”

“Gee, thanks. So the victim is victimized twice. I love America,” I said, shaking my head.

“Sorry, but that’s the policy. It’s possible we’ll find it before it’s towed. You never know.”

“So is the Cheesecake Factory in any way liable?” Cam asked.

“Yes, if you can prove that you really parked the car here, but that’s something you’ll have to speak to your attorney about,
like you said earlier.”

Cam shook the officer’s hand and got the names of all the employees standing around. Finally we headed to his car. With everything
going on, I had failed to notice that Cam’s car was different. He opened the passenger door of a Bentley Continental GT coupé.
It was black and shiny with a flashy dashboard. It felt luxurious. The leather bucket seats hugged my hips snugly. I’m so
not a car person and I didn’t want to be impressed, but I was. Cam was even finer in this car. He looked so expensive in it.
I felt as if I were dreaming. Where had this guy come from and why was he so interested in me? He was handsome and rich, but
most important he was respectful and smart. His character was much richer than he could ever be and that’s what I liked the
most.

He grabbed my hand and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Ayana,” he said.

My lips pouted. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m sorry this happened while you were with me.”

“I had a good time though.”

“Your house or mine?” he asked with confidence.

I didn’t want to leave him any more than he wanted to leave me. “Actually, I don’t have my house keys. They are with my car,
unfortunately.”