by RM Johnson
Freddy looked down at Nate’s hand, then up in his eyes before hesitantly pressing his palm into Nate’s.
“Yeah,” Freddy said, reluctantly. “I’ll think about it.”
68
That night, Freddy couldn’t sleep. He lay awake tossing, thinking about the decision he had to make. With Kia in his arms, he told himself that he would tell Mr. Kenny that he would not take him up on his offer. His girlfriend was right. He couldn’t continue to deceive Lewis. Freddy figured that even if he didn’t do it Mr. Kenny would turn over the old house. At the very least, he and his mother would no longer have to worry about paying the taxes. It would be theirs again.
Satisfied with his decision, Freddy started to drift off to sleep. Suddenly he was awakened by the sound of gunfire cracking in the distance. It jerked him up in bed, his eyes wide open, looking around the dark room. He lay in bed listening, thinking he had heard movement above him in the house again.
Freddy felt his heart start to beat hard in his chest, felt sweat start to coat his brow. He thought of getting his gun, walking those stairs, and having to hope he wasn’t going to find another intruder in his house. But he listened again and decided it was nothing more than his imagination terrorizing him.
The distant gunfire continued. Someone was probably getting killed, Freddy thought. As he drifted off again into a restless sleep, he asked himself, just how far away were they? A mile, a block, the next yard over?
Before his lids fully closed, Freddy knew what he had to do.
“That’s what I’m gonna need. Fifty thousand,” Freddy told Lewis the next day as they stood in the middle of the Evergreen Plaza mall. “I wouldn’t be asking you if they weren’t going to take the house tomorrow.”
Lewis shook his head, acting as though his hands were tied. “You know the only place I can get that kind of money.”
“I know. You did it before. Why can’t you—”
“How am I going to get it back?”
“I told you. My moms cashed in her insurance policy. The only reason I’m asking you for the money now is because we had already expected her check to have come. We called the people, and they said they put it in the mail two days ago. It should be here by tomorrow, the day after, latest,” Freddy said, looking his best friend straight in the eyes. “The money will be gone out of her account for a day, two—tops. I need this from you, man.”
Lewis turned his back on Freddy, pushed his hands through his hair, turned back and said, “What if I just tell her what’s going on and ask her for the money? She might give it to you.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” Freddy said. “Then the house is just gone, and my family is on the street. C’mon, Lewis. You know I’d do it for you. I gave you my end of that thirty thousand—”
“I know. I know,” Lewis said, looking like he was about to agree to make the biggest mistake of his life. “You’ll have the money back to me tomorrow, the day after at the latest, right?” Lewis asked, sounding worried.
“Right! I promise.”
“Fuck!” Lewis said. “I’ll get the money for you by this evening.”
69
Nate had come by Monica’s store, picked her up, and taken her to the building his friend wanted to sell her. They walked through the vacant old structure that had been a publishing company some thirty years ago. The space was vast. Huge windows let in lots of sunlight, and the hardwood floors were still in great condition.
Nate stood at one end of the third floor and watched as Monica walked about, mentally working out in her head how she would set up her new store in the building if she were to buy it.
“So what do you think?” Nate said, his voice echoing through the huge empty space. He walked toward Monica, the sound of his heels loud against the floor.
“I love it!” Monica said. “It’s perfect. And the location…tell your guy I’ll take it!”
“I don’t have to do that,” Nate said, digging into the pocket of his trench.
“Why not?”
“Because I already bought it,” Nate said, waving the contract in front of Monica.
“No, you didn’t,” Monica said, shocked.
“Yes, I did.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I want the building, but I can’t take this from you.” Monica dug into her purse and pulled out her checkbook. “Look, I’ll write you a check right now for it.”
“You sure you have enough in your account for that?”
“Yes,” Monica said. “Of all people, you should know how much money I have. How much do I owe you?”
“In a week,” Nate said. “I want my people to go over it thoroughly to make sure it’s perfect before I transfer it to you. Till then, let me savor the thought a little longer that I bought you this building, okay?”
“Okay. But next week I’m paying for it. Like it or not.”
“Think I can have a hug?”
Monica smiled, walked over, pretending to be shy, and gave Nate a hug. She looked up at the high ceilings, at all the options the building gave her in the design of the new store. She walked out into the middle of the room, spread out her arms, and spun in a circle. “Store number four, baby!” she shouted.
Nate stood by, a proud smile on his face.
“Kenny Corporation,” Monica shouted to Nate, “get ready for a little competition, ’cause I think there’s about to be a Kenny Corporation number two.”
“How do you feel?” Nate shouted back, walking over to her.
“Wonderful!”
Right next to her, Nate said in a softer voice, “This is how you’d always feel if we were together again.”
70
Lewis had stolen things before—a toy when he was a child, a few things out of a neighbor’s house, shoplifted an item or two at the occasional convenience store when he was a little older. But never before had he felt like such a criminal.
As he walked toward the door to exit the bank, he felt that the security guard was eyeing him, felt as if all the security cameras were swiveling around to keep him in sight.
He kept expecting someone to say “Stop! Wait!” Expected someone to chase after him, tackle him in the bank’s lobby, just before the door, and wrestle away the fifty thousand dollars in cash he had in the envelope in his jeans pocket. But a moment later, Lewis was outside, walking toward his truck, where Freddy sat in the passenger seat. Lewis climbed in, shut the door, and wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow.
“You get it?” Freddy said.
Lewis dug the money out of his pocket, held it out to Freddy. “Tomorrow, man. The day after at the latest. That’s what you said, right?”
“Yeah, man. That’s when I’ll get it back to you.”
“You promise?”
Freddy paused a little longer than Lewis thought he should have. “Yeah. I promise.”
For a brief moment, Lewis thought not to let go of the envelope, then he finally surrendered it to his best friend.
71
Igot it,” Freddy said two hours later, standing at Nate’s front door.
Nate opened the door, stuck his head out, and looked both ways, up and down the street. “You made sure he didn’t follow you, right?”
“Yeah,” Freddy said, feeling awful about what he was doing.
“Come in.”
Freddy followed behind Nate through his huge, beautiful home. Freddy was envious. How could some people live this luxuriously when others like him and his moms were living in damn near squalor?
But that would soon change, Freddy assured himself as he was led into Nate’s den. Once this was over, his family too would have a beautiful home.
Nate walked over to the far wall of the den and removed a framed oil painting from the wall, revealing a safe. He rolled the big dial, back and forth and back again, yanked on the handle, and pulled the safe door open.
Freddy peered over Nate’s shoulder to see what was in there. He only caught a glimpse. But what he d
id see were numerous small stacks of bound crisp bills.
“You have the cash?” Nate said, extending a hand.
Freddy walked over to him, pulling the thick envelope out of his jeans pocket, and placing it in Nate’s hand.
Nate sat the money in the safe. “I’ll count it later to make sure it’s all there.”
“Okay,” Freddy said.
Nate dug back in the safe and pulled something else out. “You want to see something?” Nate said, smiling.
“Okay.”
Nate opened up a contract, set it on his desk, pointed down at it, and said, “That’s the address to the house I showed you. There’s my name as seller. And right there is your name as the buyer. Did I spell it right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Freddy said, trying to stop himself from smiling. But he couldn’t help himself. It appeared on his face as he thought how proud he’d feel once he showed his mother the house. Once he told her and Kia they would not have to live the way they’d been living anymore, in that neighborhood with the constant threat of being robbed, shot, or killed.
“I think your mother will be very proud of you once she sees it. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right,” Freddy said.
Nate stuck the contract back in the safe and closed the door. He stepped back to Freddy. “Give it about another week, all this will all be over, and you’ll have your house. Okay?” Nate said, holding out his hand.
“All right,” Freddy said, feeling a bit more comfortable now about shaking Nate’s hand.
72
Three days later, at eight forty-five that night, Lewis sat in his truck, parked outside of Freddy’s house, practically yelling into his cell phone. “Freddy, where the fuck are you, and why ain’t you picking up your phone?”
The morning after Lewis had stolen the fifty grand out of Monica’s account and given it to Freddy, Lewis had approached him at work.
“The check come yet?” he asked Freddy as they slipped on their work boots.
“Mail don’t come until this afternoon. But I told Moms the second she get it to give me a call, okay?”
“All right. Let me know.”
After work, Freddy found Lewis and told him that the check hadn’t come. But he said it would definitely come tomorrow. At home that night, Lewis intentionally said very little to Monica. He stayed out of rooms she was in and told her he had a bad headache, retiring to bed much earlier than he normally would have, just to avoid speaking to her.
The next day, Freddy wasn’t at work. Lewis knew this wasn’t Freddy’s day off, and when he asked the receptionist, she said, “Freddy called in sick this morning.”
Immediately, Lewis thought something was wrong. It was no coincidence that on the last day Freddy had to pay back the money to Lewis, he was sick all of a sudden.
At 2:00 P.M. Lewis had called Freddy’s cell phone. He got his voice mail. “Freddy, where are you, man? You got me hanging here and it’s making me nervous. Give me a call.”
Two hours later, Lewis hadn’t received a call back, so he called Freddy’s home phone. No one answered, not even a recorder.
“Shit!” Lewis said, sitting in his truck. He drove by the house, knocked on the door, and rang the doorbell, but no one answered. He walked around the house, peering in the windows to see if there was anyone there who just wasn’t answering the door. After fifteen minutes of that, Lewis got in his truck and left.
That night, Monica asked Lewis what was wrong with him.
“What are you talking about?” He was outside, washing his truck in the dark. Of late, he was doing anything to avoid conversation with Monica, fearful she’d discover somehow just by his guilty facial expressions that he had done something terribly wrong.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Monica said. “I thought you said whatever you were going through was over.”
“It is. I just wanted to wash the truck,” Lewis said, nervously dipping his rag back into the bucket of soapy water.
“I see. Okay,” Monica said, looking through him, knowing he was lying about something.
Now it was the end of the third day, and Lewis sat outside Freddy’s house. Lewis glanced at the dash clock again: 8:48 P.M. Somebody should be home by now, he thought.
Lewis got out of the truck, walked up the stairs, approached the door.
“I don’t know where Fred is,” his mother said after letting Lewis in the house.
“He hasn’t been at work the last couple of days.”
“I know. He said he’s been sick. But he left without tellin’ me where he was going, and I don’t know where he went.”
“Are you sure he’s not downstairs?” Lewis asked, thinking that maybe his mother was lying for him and all the while Freddy was down there, hiding in a closet.
“No. But Kia is.”
“You mind if I go down and say hi to her?”
“Be my guest.”
Lewis turned and for a brief moment thought about turning around and asking the older woman about her insurance check. But he decided not to, knowing this business was between him and Freddy, at least for the moment.
Kia was on the sofa, one of her law books open across her lap. She immediately got up upon seeing Lewis and walked over to him.
“Hey, Lewis. You looking for Freddy?” she asked.
“You seen him?”
Kia lowered her head. “He’s been gone since I got back from school.”
“He hasn’t been at work.”
“Yeah. He’s had this stomach thing.”
Lewis could tell something was wrong by the way Kia was talking to him.
“Has he told you about anything dealing with me and him?”
“No. Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Lewis said. He paused and looked at Kia, hoping she’d tell him something—that was, if she knew anything. “I guess nothing. I’m gonna take off,” Lewis said, turning and starting toward the stairs.
“Lewis,” Kia called, halting him on the first step.
“Yeah?”
She looked at him for a long moment. Lewis read guilt on her face. Kia looked as though she was on the verge of admitting something to him, then she simply said, “Uh…I’ll tell Freddy you’ve been looking for him.”
73
That night, Nate leaned against his kitchen counter, his sleeves rolled up, a towel in his hand, drying the dinner dishes after Monica had washed them.
Not only had she made dinner for him and his son tonight, but the evening before, she had taken Nate and Nathaniel out for ice cream, and then to their favorite park. It had been three days since he had gotten the money from Freddy, and Nate found it hard to believe that Monica had not noticed it missing yet. He guessed that since she had probably checked her account balance just the other morning, there was no need for her to check it again anytime soon.
He thought of suggesting the idea to her some way, but he knew that once she noticed the missing money, the ball would start rolling and the search for the money would be on, disrupting the calm nature of everything that was going on right now. Nate was enjoying the time they were spending together and knew that with each day that passed, each hour, Monica was coming closer and closer to deciding that she would come back to him.
Nate stepped behind Monica and wrapped his arms around her waist as she continued washing dishes.
“Why have you been spending this time with us lately?”
“You don’t like it?” Monica said, peeping back at him over her shoulder. “I can finish these dishes and never come back if you like.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just—”
“I don’t know why, Nate. And I really don’t want to understand it. Right now, I want to see you and Nathaniel, and I’m glad that you’re letting me.”
“And Lewis doesn’t mind you being gone as much as you are?”
Monica shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, and I’m tired of guessing.”
“
So can I assume that all this extra time my son and I are getting means that you’re considering what I asked you?”
Monica set the dish she was washing back down in the soapy water. She paused a moment, then turned in Nate’s arms to face him.
Just then his home phone started ringing.
“I’m not getting that,” Nate said.
“No. Get it. I’ll remember what I have to say.”
Nate hurried into his den, assuming he knew who was calling. He glanced at the caller ID; as he had thought, it read INTERNATIONAL CALLER.
Nate set his hand on the receiver but did not pick it up. This had been Daphanie’s third call today, and she had called twice yesterday. Nate had not taken either of the calls and had not gotten around even to listening to her voice messages. He felt too guilty about the feelings he had for Monica to even begin to think about how he would confess this to Daphanie.
“Just somebody trying to sell me something,” Nate said back in the kitchen, his arms back around Monica’s waist. “You were saying…”
“I was saying what I’ve always said, that nothing has changed. I’m enjoying this. I love your son, and…” Monica smiled. “I might even have some feelings for you. But me spending time here doesn’t mean that I’m making decisions about anything. It could mean that, but I just don’t know. But seriously, would you rather I not come around anymore? Would that make things easier?”
“No. Harder. And I’m sure Nathaniel would kill me if he knew I was the reason ‘Mommy’ wasn’t coming around. What I was thinking is that I want more time. Why don’t you stay over a night?”
“Oh, no,” Monica said, stepping out from Nate’s arms. “What I’m doing is bad enough already.”
“That’s right,” Nate said. “So what additional harm could one night together cause? Why not get a glimpse of what it would be like to be here with me and my son overnight like a family?”
