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Of course, I had no idea that she had recorded it.
“What the hell?” I asked again and then repeated for posterity’s sake, “What the hell, Lauren? You made a sex tape of us?”
She lowered the phone and pressed pause on the video, stopping the intense sounds of sex. “Is it me?” she asked impishly. “Or is it your mistress?”
I felt myself flush hot and then very cold. “Are you kidding me right now? Is that why you wore a wig?”
“I,” she said with an air of triumph, “never wear wigs.”
I doubted that I had moaned her name. Or if I had, she’d probably had it edited out.
Of course, I would recognize my ex-wife’s body from anywhere, but the lighting was bad, and at first glance, it didn’t necessarily look like her. Her face had been carefully hidden by the camera.
I was silent as I thought about this. Lauren must have decided that she had won. “That’s what I thought. You got a two-bedroom villa, didn’t you? I’ll be staying in your spare room.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “I don’t even want to look at you right now.”
She pouted. “Then where am I expected to sleep on my vacation, sweetie?”
I took in one deep breath, and let it out, my thoughts racing. I had to stay cool and calm. If she was willing to make a secret sex tape well before we had begun divorce proceedings, there was no telling what else she was capable of. I had to play it cool.
“Let me make a call,” I said curtly and crossed to the living room where the resort had put an old-fashioned landline phone in the corner, I presumed in case the internet went down.
A few minutes later, I had a second villa reserved through the rest of the week in my name, and on my credit card. Whatever it took to get her out of my sight as soon as possible.
Setting the receiver down, I turned to Lauren. “Your villa is number thirty-six. Your attendant will meet you there in the next ten minutes.”
She graced me with a bright smile. “Fabulous. I so needed a vacation, and I have the feeling this will give us tons of time to communicate.”
She turned to walk out, but despite my resolve to let her think that she had me just where she wanted me, I called out, “Lauren, I want you to stay out of my way.”
“Of course, sweetie,” she said again. “I know that legal matters like this take a day or two to get fixed. And if you can manage to arrange it remotely, I’ll accept a private check instead.”
“Lauren,” I said through gritted teeth, “please leave.”
She wiggled her fingers at me in farewell and stepped out, softly closing the door behind her.
* * *
Needless to say, my next phone call to the front desk was an urgent request for my relaxation consultant.
I knew it would look fishy to anyone who cared, but I was beyond caring.
I spent the next few minutes, pacing back and forth with my fists clenching and unclenching.
Finally, a knock came at the door. “Come in,” I said huskily.
Please, please don’t be Lauren…
The door opened and Kendall stepped in. He looked great, his hair still ruffled with a bit of bed head. His expression, however, was politely concerned. “The front desk said that you needed me urgently? Is everything all right, Deacon? You didn’t even put in a breakfast order…”
I shook my head. Breakfast was the last thing on my mind. Instantly, just seeing his face, I felt a lot better. As if the sun outside shown a little brighter. Some of my stress began to ease.
“I’m very, very tense,” I said. “I need a massage. Urgently.”
Kendall gave me a hard look, as if he were trying to read something on my face. Then, to my surprise, he nodded toward the couch. “Why don’t you take a seat over there and take off your shirt. I’ll get the table and get you all set up in a minute.”
“Okay,” I said numbly.
