His Last Wife

She was about to tell him to wait for her before he hopped out of the truck and bolted right to the person who’d become his favorite as of late—but she decided to let it slide that morning. All of the other little golfers unloading from their parents’ cars had both mother and father in tow. She knew Tyrian wanted that too—for his parents to be together like everyone else’s. And at that moment, he was just ecstatic that his life would look like all of the other kids’ lives that day.

“My big boy!” Jamison said, gathering his son into his arms. “Man, you’re getting heavy. I’m not going to be able to pick you up much longer!” Jamison laughed. The phone in his pocket was already vibrating with other things he needed to do, but he didn’t reach for it. He promised himself he wouldn’t. Today was about Tyrian.

“Hi.” Kerry’s greeting was flat and uninspired when she walked up carrying the golf bag Tyrian had left behind for her to caddy.

Jamison looked over at his first wife. “Good morning,” he offered, smiling civilly.

“Good morning,” she added to her greeting.

A few parents walked past with their little golfers straggling behind, waving at Tyrian. The whole time, just seconds really—but to the exes it felt much longer—Jamison and Kerry eyed each other for signs of anything new. Kerry had recently cut off her long, black permed hair and was wearing a short, natural do that Jamison thought made her look younger and thinner. Maybe she’d lost weight too. Jamison was wearing a new, expensive watch. He had the collar on his old gold fraternity golf shirt popped up to hide a hickey on his neck, but even with the carefully planned disguise and brown skin, and two feet of distance, his first wife could see it.

“Think we need to get to the clubhouse. I’m sure they’re starting the demonstration on time,” Kerry said drily.

“Of course. Of course,” Jamison agreed and then added, “Hey, can you take a picture of Tyrian and me?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and stretched to hand it to Kerry.

“Guess so,” she said, taking the phone.

“Cool!” Tyrian cheered, standing beside his dad.

The three organized the perfect photo shot in front of the club sign and just before Kerry was about to take the picture, Jamison added one of Tyrian’s golf clubs from his bag.

Kerry held up the phone and took a few shots. In the background, a new spring had the grass emerald green.

Once all were satisfied that the moment had been captured, Kerry was about to hand Jamison the phone when it rang and a familiar name came up on the screen Val—Jamison’s sultry assistant, who was making it pretty clear she was sleeping with her boss.

“Here,” Kerry said, rushing to return the phone to Jamison.

“Wait, Mama! You get in the picture!” Tyrian posed with a big smile. He was becoming quite the diplomat. “We can take one with all of us.”

Kerry and Jamison looked at each other like they were heads of nations always on the brink of war. The phone was still ringing with Val’s name on the screen.

“Oh, we can’t do that,” Kerry said, handing the phone to Jamison. “There’s no one to take the picture.”

“I’ll take it!” A fourth voice cut into the negotiations suddenly.

Behind Kerry was a young man in a Morehouse College golf shirt, holding what was clearly an expensive camera in his hand. An overstuffed camera bag with Fox Five News stitched into the top flap was hanging over his shoulder.

“It would be an honor to take a picture of our new mayor and his family,” the man remarked.

“Thanks, brother,” Jamison said, flashing his practiced public smile. “We’d appreciate that. Hey, what’s your name? I love meeting my Morehouse brothers, you know?” he continued, reaching out to shake the young man’s hand.

“I’m Dax Thomas—a reporter with Fox Five News Atlanta,” he said. “Good to meet you, Mayor Taylor. You’re doing us Morehouse men proud.”

“At your service,” Jamison said and the men chuckled at some inside joke.

Kerry reluctantly got into the picture, standing behind Tyrian’s shoulder opposite Jamison.

In minutes, the image would be featured on Fox News’s main Web site. The caption: An awkward moment at East Lake Golf Course this morning, when Mayor Taylor takes a picture with his ex-wife, Atlanta socialite Kerry Ann Jackson, and six-year-old son, Tyrian.

The bottom bunk where Kerry lay remembering her past rattled with a thud. She quickly opened her eyes, ready to react and jumped up, hitting the top of her head on the bottom of the upper bunk.

“Owww!”she let out, looking at a boot on the floor beside her bed that was no doubt the source of the rattling. Her eyes left the boot and nervously forged a path up the orange jumpsuit to the face of the kicker she was certain had come to pummel her.

“Damn! Calm down, boo! It’s just me!” Garcia-Bell held out her hands innocently as she laughed at Kerry’s head bump and fearful eyes. “What? You thought I was Thompson coming to kick your ass?”

Kerry rolled her eyes and looked out of the cell past Garcia-Bell. “Where is she?” She sat up, rubbing her head.

“Probably somewher