The Ex Files

Hexed

"Angel, we have to talk."

Hex was standing on Pamina's front step, snow swirling around him, looking for all the world like a homeless orphan in a fairy tale.

"No, we don't," Pamina said. "That's why I blocked your number on my phone."

"You did? I assumed there was a technical problem. But I've found you now. Do you realize that I've been here four times, looking for you?""

"We have nothing to talk about," Pamina said. She began to close the door, but Hex stepped forward and blocked it open with his foot, just like a stereotypical eager salesman.

"Please let me come in. I don't know what the problem is, but I'm sure we can sort it out."

Pamina put her full weight against the door. "You stole my client list. You pretended to be my partner, and pitched products they didn't need."

"Actually, your clients seemed quite pleased by my concern and input."

Pamina was too enraged to say anything. The worst part of the whole embarrassing incident was that her clients had been completely charmed by Hex, who had told them that he was doing a follow-up visit on Pamina's behalf, leading them to believe that he was the senior partner in a joint business enterprise. When she tried to clarify the true nature of the situation, she quickly realized that this was not something her clients wanted to hear. After two distressing and unproductive discussions, she decided not to burden the others with the truth and hope that Hex would not completely destroy her credibility.

Hex leaned against the door lightly, testing her resolve to keep him out. "I was just taking your advice, my angel. You said I should get the lead out and hustle up some business. I sold four insurance policies, two investment products, and a security system. And I have eleven new leads to follow up."

"You're selling security systems now?"

"Yes. It seemed like a good way to widen my net. A good security system is a form of insurance. You should talk to your landlord about it."

"Hex, leave now, or I'm calling the police. Don't talk to me or my clients ever again."

"That will be unavoidable. Some of them are my clients now. I've set up an appointment for you to—"

Pam stamped on Hex's foot with the heel of her boot. He yelped and pulled it back. She slammed the door and locked it.

That man! Why was I ever stupid enough to get involved with him?

The answer was disgustingly simple.  I was lonely. Numbers are not enough.

Hex was not an easy habit to break.  After a cursory tour of dating apps, Pam had decided to solicit the help of an overpriced personal introduction service named Perfect Partnerships. A matchmaker had conducted an in-person interview, taken a handful of pictures, and followed up with phone calls and e-mails. She had set up discreet coffee dates with promising matches. They were all eminently presentable, perfect escort material. But they were not Hex. She had done her best to convince herself that one man was as good as another, and agreed to second dates with three practically perfect prospects. She had invited one to come home with her and spend the night. His technique was adequate, but far from magical. After that disappointment, she decided to return to her single lifestyle.

She wanted Hex, even though he was an endless source of trouble. Even when she knew that he was lying, she found him charming. When they were in bed together, he could make her forget all about statistics, probabilities, and common sense.

Should I give in and accept him as a business partner? He certainly showed ingenuity. We might be able to make a lot of money together. Until he gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar and our kingdom collapses.

In the romance novels she had read, there were always huge mountains of incompatibility to scale and overcome, The unsuitability of the relationship fueled the flame of sexual desire, which was magically transmuted into eternal love and an extended honeymoon in some exotic haven of bliss. She had always regarded those stories as nonsense, but she kept reading, attempting to fathom the illogical equation that led to idealized marriages that bore little resemblance to what she saw in real life. This was the collective fantasy of women who thought their life could not be complete without The One and Only Prince Charming who would supply everything that was missing.

Each time she finished one of those horrible books, she vowed that it would be her last. But, sooner or later, the lure of The Perfect Romance would draw her back.

Her involvement with Hex undermined her skepticism relentlessly. While their sexual encounters were not quite the Olympic feats portrayed in the books, they seduced her into believing that happily-ever-after could be a possibility. She split into two mutually exclusive Paminas: the romantic who believed anything was possible, and the realist who knew that Hex was a con man who had no scruples about taking what he wanted and walking away, leaving her life and career in ruins.

Whether she liked it or not, she had to learn to live without Hex. Slamming the door in his face was the only rational thing to do.

Unfortunately, the rational thing to do was not particularly satisfying.

I will be strong. I have to be strong. Life may seem a bit dull right now, but I'll meet someone sooner or later. I just have to be more social. Or would it be better to stick to business now and be social later?

Her doorbell rang.

Not him again! Forget it, Hex. I'm through playing games with you.

Another ring. Then another. Then banging on the door and a male voice shouting "Hello!" It was not Hex's voice.

She rushed to the door and opened it.

Five people were waiting for her. The man who had been pounding on the door, a woman with a baby strapped to her chest and two preschoolers in tow, and a grandmotherly lady trying to control an eagerly active terrier wearing a purple plaid sweater.

"Hello," Pamina said said breathlessly. "Sorry for the delay." Before she could explain that she had been tied up with an important overseas video conference, the man took over the conversation.

"We're the Sandersons. We have an appointment to see the apartment you have for rent. Mr. O'Halloran was going to meet us here, but we just saw him drive away."

Pamina put on her best smile. "Oh yes – he was called away on urgent business. I guess you're stuck with me. Just a moment, and I'll get the keys."

The tour took forever. The adults examined every crook and cranny while the baby howled, the children ran from room to room, and the dog urinated on the carpet. She handed them the application for tenancy with mixed feelings. If these people became tenants, they would be a lot less quiet and unintrusive than their predecessors.

After a spirited discussion about who was going to sleep where, they started wrangling about whether they should move in before or after Christmas. Pamina explained that the lease would begin on January 1, but they could move in any time before that and pay a pro-rated daily rate. Mrs. Sanderson senior said that it was ridiculous to charge anything before the new year, since the apartment was empty anyway. Pamina explained that she was the manager, not the owner, so she could only abide by policy. Mr. Sanderson asked if there was a pet fee, and Pamina said she believed so (just to be safe) and she would check with the owner and pass on the information. She added Mr. Sanderson's phone number and e-mail to the contact list in her phone

After waving a cheerful good-bye, she collapsed on the couch and cried. Hex would be back soon, expecting to be rewarded for his referral. His connection with the Sandersons would complicate matters and give him a plausible reason for hanging around the house. They were not finished with each other yet.