His Next Ex

by Maren Smith

  “Just a dollar,” the kid said again. “We want a pop from the corner store.”

  “Come on,” a second boy piped up. “You can spare us a pop, can’t ya?”

  “How about twenty,” Travis said, “if nothing happens to my car before I get back.”

  The first boy grinned, “Hey, you got it!”

  And the lot of them rushed down the steps and hopped up to sit on the limo’s hood. While Ben locked the doors and made a flurry of ineffective shooing motions, one boy waggled his tongue and made faces back at him through the glass.

  Travis still said goodbye to his hubcaps, his hood ornament, and—after tonight—most likely his favorite driver.

  Inside, the first-floor light was out, the halls were claustrophobically narrow, and the stairs creaked ominously beneath his weight. He covered his nose when he reached the second-floor landing. The smell wafting from the worn fifties-style carpet was worse than the garbage-strewn streets outside, and he quickly continued up the stairs.

  The first apartment on the third floor was sealed off with bright yellow, crime-scene police tape. From the stairwell to the fourth floor, he heard the demanding screams of a baby and Jamie’s apartment at the end of the hall was right next door to one that housed a barking dog. And a very large dog at that, from the sounds of it.

  That momentary twinge of conscience that Travis had been feeling for the way he intended to use Jamie died right there in the hallway as he stepped over the sprawling legs of a drunk asleep on the floor. As far as he was concerned, this had just become a rescue mission.

  He knocked at her door and waited.

  And waited.

  One minute stretched into two, and something touched his shoe. Travis looked down to find the drunk had raised his head as well as Travis’s pants leg by about an inch.

  “I can shee my face,” he slurred, peering at his reflection in Travis’s shiny black shoes. He looked up at Travis with blood shot eyes. “Is tha’ re–real leather?”

  It took everything Travis had not to take a giant step backwards. “Yes.”

  “Nish shoes.”

  “Thank you.” He knocked again, a little louder this time.

  “Go away,” Jamie called from the other side. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Jamie,” Travis commanded in his most authoritative tone. “There’s a man out here fondling my leg. You don’t get to change your mind.”

  “I mean it. I’m not coming out so you may as well just leave!”

  “I don’t think coming out is a good idea,” Travis told her through the door. “However, if you wanted to invite me in, I wouldn’t object too strenuously.”

  “So you can kiss me insensible again? No, thank you!”

  Travis arched at eyebrow at the door and a corner of his mouth curled slightly upwards. “I kissed you insensible? Really? Do you suppose that will happen every time we kiss? Open the door, sweetheart. Let’s find out.”

  “Oh, go to hell,” she grumbled.

  “Tsk, tsk,” Travis said with mock sternness. “Sweetheart, baby, darling—that is no way to speak to your intended. Especially not when your neighbors can overhear.”

  “Let them hear. God knows I’ve listened to them often enough.”

  Her footsteps receded into the bowels of the apartment, and Travis knocked again, a little harder this time. “Seriously now, Jamie. Open the door.”

  The drunk stroked Travis’s leg. “Nish shuit, too. Arrrmani?”

  “Valentino.” Travis beat his fist against the door again. “Jamie!” What little sense of humor he’d been coddling was beginning to dissipate as he watched a bug crawl up the doorjamb and heard the squeak of a rodent somewhere down the other end of the hall. “Open the door right now, sweetheart. I promise not to kiss you, but I’d like to talk to you… inside if I may.”

  When Jamie did not reply, Travis knocked again. “Jamie?”

  Below him, the drunk beat his fist on the door. “Open up here, woman! We jus’ wanna talk!”

  “Thank you, but I think I can handle this.” Travis removed his leg from the drunk man’s hand. He knocked one final time. “Jamie?”

  Still no answer.

  The Mountain never lost. Ever. Not once.

  “All right,” he grimly told the door. “Just remember, young lady, you brought this on yourself.”

  And with that, he turned and went back down the hall.

  “Hey!” the drunk called and hiccupped at once. “You givin’ up?”

  “I never give up.”

  Out of habit, he took hold of the banister as he headed downstairs, only to draw his hand quickly back again. Strings of well-chewed gum clung to his fingers. He stifled a sound of disgust. Barely.

  He found the manager’s apartment on the first floor and knocked on the door. A round-faced black man with glasses and a cigar answered. He looked Travis over once. “Yeah?”

  Offering his best disarming smile—twice in one day, he was really starting to get the hang of this—Travis said, “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I seem to have misplaced my key. Do you have an extra for apartment three-twelve?”

  The manager looked deliberately at Travis’s clothes. “Buddy, if you live here, I ain’t chargin’ enough rent.”

  He started to close the door, but Travis caught it halfway. He tried not to lose his smile. “It’s my fiancée’s apartment.”

  “Three-twelve?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Jamie lives in three-twelve.”

  Again, the manager tried to close the door, but Travis forced it back open. He smiled through gritted teeth. “That’s right. Jamie Miracle, my one and only. Heart of my heart. Love of my life. The only angel to ever fall from heaven with halo intact. Do you have a key or not?”

  “She didn’t mention nobody was movin’ in with her.” The manager chewed on the end of his cigar. “That’s against the rules of the lease. I got half a mind to throw the lot of you out.”

  “Really?” After a moment, Travis tipped his head calculatingly to one side. “How much to throw us out tonight?”

  The manager looked at him as if he were crazy. “You want me to throw you out?”

  “Absolutely. Tonight. Right now, if possible. How about two hundred dollars?”

  The manager held out his hand. Bracing his foot against the bottom of the door to keep it from being slammed in his face, Travis pulled his wallet from his jacket and withdrew several bills. He handed them over. The manager looked at the money and chewed on his cigar. “She owes back rent, too. I gotta live, you know.”

  Travis re-opened his wallet. “How much?”

  “Three months at six-fifty a month, that’s—nineteen hundred fifty dollars. You pay me up-to-date, and I’ll throw her butt out on the streets anytime you want.”

  “Six hundred and fifty dollars,” Travis looked pointedly at the filthy hall around him, “for all this luxury?”

  “Per month,” the manager enunciated.

  “You’re joking.”

  “I don’t joke.”

  A kindred spirit.

  When Travis didn’t immediately open his wallet, the manager said, “You want me to evict you guys or not?”

  He was being fleeced and he knew it, but Travis counted out the remainder of his money. “I only have three hundred dollars on me.”

  The manager chewed the end of his cigar. “That your limo outside?”

  Warily, Travis said, “Yes.”

  Showing tobacco-stained teeth, the manager smiled. “Well then, from you I’ll take a check.”

  ***

  Every well-laid plan had its little unforeseen hitch. With legs crossed and one hand resting lightly on his knee, Travis sat in the back of the limo, already heading for home, and contemplated his little ‘hitch,’ buckled as it was in a well-patched car seat, gurgling blissfully and playing with its toes. If asked to hazard a guess, Travis gauged the baby’s age at maybe six months. So much for private investigators. They were nowhere near
as thorough as they used to be.

  One arm draped protectively across the back of the car seat, Jamie glared at him. “I can’t believe you got me evicted.”

  “I told you, I don’t give up,” Travis said. “What I can’t believe is that you would live in a place like that with a baby.”

  “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking? I should be living at the Elysian Heights or Paradise Corners or—I know!” She covered Megan’s ears. “How about Rich Bastard Row? Except, oh yeah! I don’t make that kind of money.”

  “Your sarcasm has been duly noted, but I’m only trying to help.”

  “By getting me evicted?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you really want to help, then get your company to offer paid maternity and sick leave for part-time employees. Or put in an affordable daycare. That would be helping me. I don’t want to get married again. Believe me, once was more than enough.”

  Considering his own failed marriage, Travis wasn’t about to argue. But it was still the best two thousand dollars he’d ever spent, and the baby obviously agreed with him. It was smiling at him around a mouthful of small, pink toes. Like the top of a fluffy dandelion, thick reddish-blonde hair stuck straight up all over its head. He tried to tell what sex the child was, but dressed in only a plain white t-shirt and diaper, it was too difficult to guess. Especially for a man whose experiences with children were limited to the occasional obligatory glances he’d cast at the photographs his colleagues carried in their wallets.

  Noticing the direction of his steady gaze, Jamie asked, “What’s the matter, Travis? Is your perfect plan falling apart?”

  “Actually, it’s getting better all the time,” he said with a slight smile. “Nothing says ‘family man’ like the addition of a small child.”

  Her face flushed angrily. “I won’t let you use Megan.”

  Ah, the carrot-topped dandelion was a little girl.

  “I could help you both, you know.” Travis reached over to tickle the bottom of one little, pink foot. Megan grinned at him, showing the white crown of a single budding tooth on her lower gum.

  “We don’t need your help!” Jamie said fiercely. “Megan has the best of everything I can give her. And it’s getting better all the time.” Her voice cracked. “It is.” She bit the inside of her lip in an effort to still her quivering chin and turned her glare out the window so he wouldn’t see the traitorous tears building in her eyes.

  “Of course, it is.” He looked at the baby again. “Did your ex know about Megan before he left?”

  “Why do you think he left?” Jamie sniffled. “We get by.”

  “It’s still deplorable.”

  She snorted. “Like you can talk.”

  “Had I known about Megan, I wouldn’t have evicted you.”

  She shrugged, but still didn’t look at him. “That’s okay. I was on borrowed time anyway.”

  Travis settled back in his seat, studying mother and daughter with equal care. While taking a wife bespoke volumes on his willingness to commit, gaining a child virtually screamed it. All he had to do was convince Jamie that it was in her and Megan’s best interests, and in two weeks’ time, Dorsett lumber would be making its way to the shores of Japan.

  “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

  Jamie only shrugged again, staring out the window. Then she sniffed again and covered her eyes with her hand, but not before Travis glimpsed the first fat tear spilling over her lashes.

  The urge to pull her onto his lap and cradle her was almost overwhelming. Instead, he said, “I know a nice house where you can live free of rent for the first two years and no deposit required. Utilities and phone are paid.” He offered her a thin smile. “Free DSL hookups and satellite TV. Two hundred channels, including HBO and Showtime.”

  “Why me?” she asked, lowering her hand. “Did you wake up this morning and think, ‘You know, I just won’t be happy today unless I get Miracle’?”

  “I didn’t use those exact words. But now that you are homeless, I do feel a bit of responsibility for you.”

  “Says the man responsible for making me homeless. Gee, I should hope so!”

  “Jamie, have you heard of APEC?” She gave Travis a blank look, which he took to mean no. “It’s a cooperation that amounts to more than five hundred billion dollars’ worth of exports worldwide. Japan is a member of APEC, and has opened its markets to US trade, but only for a select few industries. Lumber is one of them.

  “I have been struggling for years to get my foot in that particular doorway. Six months ago, I finally succeeded in gaining an audience with the Kuronabe brothers, whose company handles almost forty percent of all the construction business in the whole of Japan. Negotiations on this contract were to finalize in two weeks, but this morning I discovered a rival eagerly attempting to seduce them into contracting with him instead. Not because he offers a better product at a better price, but because he’s married. To the Japanese, a family man is one who understands and values commitment, stability and solid, working relationships.”

  “So, you want to win them back by proving you can commit?”

  “Exactly.”

  “How ‘committed’ to me are you planning to be?”

  Travis settled back in his seat, at once a lean and predatory sparkle glittering in his eyes. “How committed do you want me to be?”

  Jamie just glared. “I don’t want to get married in the first place.”

  “That’s why you’re perfect for the job. You won’t cling when it’s over.” He leaned over to take her hands in his. “Allow me to sweeten the pot for you, darling. Not only will I give you two million dollars, but I’ll give you a house, free and clear, in a nice neighborhood with a good school system and a yard for Megan to run and play in. Imagine the white picket fence and the walk-in closets. Jamie, Megan will never want for anything. And neither will you.” He raised her hand, pressing a kiss into her smooth palm. He felt her shiver and her eyes almost closed at the touch. “Trust me to take care of you, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want to do more.”

  Abruptly Jamie snatched her hand back. “No!”

  “No? To what part?”

  “If I agree to this phony marriage, then you can’t do that anymore!”

  “What? Touch you?”

  She began to count off on her fingers. “No touching! No kissing!” She suddenly pointed straight at him. “And none of that either!”

  “None of what?”

  “That! Looking at me like I’m the last piece of candy in the dish. If we’re going to do this, then it has to be a business arrangement straight across the board!”

  Travis blinked, then leaned back in his seat. His expression abruptly closed and he could have been negotiating any other boardroom contract as he said, “All right. What else?”

  “I get my own room,” Jamie said.

  “Of course.”

  “And you don’t so much as set foot inside it! Ever! If I’m on fire, squirt me with a hose from the doorway. But if you come inside, the second I’m extinguished I’m going for a divorce.”

  “You’ve made your point. However, in public that rule does not apply. In front of witnesses, I will touch you and kiss you, if appropriate, and there may even be an occasional need to share a room when we travel.”

  She grumbled. “I guess I can do that.”

  “Loving, doting, soon-to-be-wives generally don’t scowl at the thought of having to share a room with their fiancée.”

  “I’ve only been a soon-to-be wife for a few seconds,” she protested. “Give me a minute to get used to the idea.”

  “I don’t have a minute, Jamie. One mistake in front of the right person and the truth will ruin me. Perhaps we should practice the loving and doting part.”

  “Stow it, buster. I’ll give you points for the original come-on line, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “I don’t demand that you do.”

  Jamie fidgeted with her fingers. “What kind of practi
ce do you mean then?”

  “I’ll be satisfied if you can kiss me without that deer-in-the-headlights look crossing your face.” Travis smiled dryly. “Yes. That’s the one.”

  Jamie quickly looked out the nearest window.

  “If you can’t even touch me,” Travis reasoned, “then we aren’t going to fool anyone and this will have been a waste of both our times.”

  He heard her swallow. “What about Megan?”

  “I very much doubt if the sight of us kissing will scar her for life. Besides, she’s more interested in her toes. She’s fine. Come here, Jamie.”

  Reluctantly, she crossed the distance between them and sat down on his left, the alluring scent of baby lotion and apples following her to his side. He didn’t know whether he should be irritated or amused at the fortifying and deep breath she took before turning sideways on the seat to face him.

  “You agreed you wouldn’t touch me,” she pointed out.

  “No touching, I promise,” he said in his most convincing tone. “I will sit here, hands in my lap, and let you do all the work.”

  “Okay.” She shifted, as though steeling herself, and frowned at him. Then she shook her hands, loosening up. With a slow exhale, she rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder and looked at him again. “Okay. A kiss.”

  He couldn’t help but tease. “Is this how Megan was conceived?”

  “Do you want me to do this or not?” she grumbled.

  “By all means.”

  “Then shut up,” she said, but there was a note of nervous uncertainty in her voice. As she leaned in towards him, he settled back in his seat to enjoy himself. Jamie paused for a second, then darted in to peck his cheek.

  “Oh yes,” Travis drawled. “That’ll convince everybody.”

  “I’m not done yet!” Jamie huffed and squared her shoulders. She leaned over him. It took three hesitant attempts before she could bring herself to actually set her hand on his broad shoulder. She lowered her mouth to within inches of his and paused again.

  “Would you like me to help you?” he asked with a smile. The heat of her hand was sinking into his skin and spreading all through him.