by RM Johnson
Monica looked up at Lewis. He saw a tear in her eye. “I tried calling Nate I don’t know how many times. I called Tim, too, but he hasn’t called me back. That’s not like him. What’s going on?”
Lewis thought he knew exactly what it was. Nate thought he finally had a natural-born child on the way, and he was trying to decide if he still wanted to be with Monica. That is, if he hadn’t already decided to get rid of her. Lewis hoped he wasn’t right, but he was sure he was.
“Do you know where he is? Maybe something happened to him?” Monica threw herself into Lewis, needing a hug. “Did they catch the man who shot us? Maybe he came to Chicago and—”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Monica. Everything will be alright,” Lewis said, pulling out of the hug. He held Monica by her arms and looked in her eyes, promising her, “I’ll find him, okay?”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Lewis said, handing Monica the box of Kleenex he took from the tableside bed. “I’ll find him, and make sure he comes and talks to you.”
81
Lewis pulled his truck up in front of Nate’s house and shifted it into park.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Nate’s phone for the seventh time. Lewis would give him one more opportunity to answer before he walked up and banged on Nate’s door.
Again the phone rang several times, then went to voice mail.
Lewis had left a handful of messages, and they’d gone unanswered. No more, he told himself, pushing open the door of the truck and angrily stepping out and walking up the path to Nate’s house.
There he banged on the door with enough force to knock the thing off its hinges.
Afterward, Lewis realized he hadn’t checked to make sure that Daphanie wasn’t here. If she was, then it would just be much more of a mess than he intended.
Lewis didn’t like the way that Nate was playing Monica. She had chosen Nate over him, and now the man was acting like a coward, afraid to face her and tell her what he was going to do with her. It was wrong, Lewis thought, banging on the door again.
The door opened, an infuriated Nate standing behind it. “What the hell is wrong with you? I have every right to call the police!” Nate yelled.
“You need to let me in,” Lewis said.
“Let you in. What the hell for? I told you I never wanted to see your sorry ass again.”
“Nate,” Lewis said from behind clenched teeth. “I saw Monica earlier today. She told me you haven’t been to see her.”
“That is none of your business. Now, if you knew what was best for you, you’d get off my property,” Nate said, starting to close the door.
“I know why you haven’t seen her,” Lewis said into the door as it continued to close. “It’s because of Daphanie’s baby, isn’t it?”
The door’s movement halted. Nate opened it again, staring at Lewis with confusion. “What do you know about that? How do you know this?”
“I’m not going to tell you out here on this porch. Let me in.”
Nate stepped away from the door. “Come in, then.”
Lewis walked into the house, proceeded down the hallway into the living room. He was about to take a seat on the sofa.
“Don’t sit down,” Nate said. “Just tell me what you have to say, then leave.”
Lewis told Nate how he and Daphanie had met, how she was expecting to get Nate back after Lewis told Monica of all the evil things he had done.
“So you were staying with her?” Nate said, anger in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Did the two of you—”
“No. Nothing happened,” Lewis said, not knowing why he was trying to ease this man’s fears.
“Do you still have interaction with her?”
“No. We don’t need each other anymore. I have a place to live, and she feels she got you back from Monica,” Lewis said. “And she’s right, isn’t she?”
“I appreciate you telling me this, but that’s none of your business,” Nate said, seeming much more calm now. “If you’d leave,” Nate said, walking Lewis to the door.
“Things aren’t what you think they are, Nate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s lying to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Nate said.
Lewis stopped in the hallway. “The other day at Daphanie’s house, this man stopped me, thinking I was you. His name is Trevor. That name sound familiar to you?”
“No.”
“He’s Daphanie’s ex-boyfriend.”
“So what?”
“The baby that Daphanie’s carrying, he swears it’s his.”
82
Nate stood in the spray and steam of the shower’s hot water. His arms were out in front of him, his palms pressed into the shower wall to support him. He dipped his head and let the steaming water run through his hair and over his scalp.
He had not been to see Monica. She had been ringing his cell and home phone. He had even gotten two calls from his secretary at work, telling him that his wife had called and said it was urgent.
Nate ignored all of that.
Tim came by and warned Nate that if he didn’t see Monica, tell her something, that Tim was going to do it for him.
He felt horrible right now. He should’ve told Monica something, but, being honest with himself, he knew plain and simple that he was scared. He knew telling her what he was almost certain he was going to tell her would kill her. And Nate wasn’t ready to see that kind of pain done to her.
But he also had to admit that he wasn’t entirely sure how things would be with Daphanie. Yes, the six months they’d had together, before he got back with Monica, were fine, almost great. But throwing a child into the mix, would that change things for the worse, or better?
Bottom line, he had toyed with too many women’s lives. He was tired, and ready to settle down, be out of the game once and for all. So if that was the case, why was he hesitating?
This was what he had always wanted, he kept telling himself. Yes, all Monica’s things were in his house, considering they were going to get married. But it wasn’t like they had gotten married. There would not be another divorce. She was not entitled to anything more than she already had. And little Nathaniel was his child. He, and only he, had adopted the boy. There would be no custody battle.
Nate would walk away from their short reunion losing nothing of what he had. In fact, he would actually be gaining a child. One from his own loins.
Yes, he would do it tomorrow, he thought, a slight smile coming to his face. There was just one more thing he wanted to be certain about, before he gave Monica such awful news.
Nate opened his mouth, let some of the shower collect in it, then spit the water out.
He felt a soft hand on his bare back, then another on his hip, reaching around, taking him between the legs. He felt himself becoming aroused. Nate hadn’t had sex since the shooting, but he felt he might be able to tonight.
Nate turned around to face Daphanie. She smiled up at him, the strands of her wet hair plastered to her face.
“This baby is mine, isn’t it?” Nate said.
Daphanie smiled, still holding his manhood. “Of course it is,” she said. “Now kiss me.”
83
The next day Nate stood outside Monica’s room. He took in a deep breath, exhaled sorrowfully, then pushed through the door without knocking.
Monica turned around. She wore a warm-up suit and sneakers. It was something Nate had never seen before. He assumed Tabatha might have brought the clothes for her.
Monica gasped, then hurried over as quickly as she could to Nate, hugging him. “Oh, my God. I’ve been trying to call you. I called Tim, and he wouldn’t answer his phone, and I didn’t know if you made it back from Atlanta,” Monica said nervously. She leaned away from Nate, looked him in the face as if to verify he was real, then kissed him quickly on the lips. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Nate said, hating himself f
or what he was about to do.
“Did you get Nathaniel back? Is he fine?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you call me? You had me in this hospital worrying, thinking that something was terribly wrong.”
Nate didn’t respond, but still held Monica in his arms.
“You know, they’re letting me out of here today. I called Tabatha to come pick me up, but since you’re here, I can call her back.”
Nate let his arms fall from around Monica. Immediately he could tell she knew something was wrong.
“What is it, Nate?” There was worry in her voice.
“I didn’t come to take you back home, Monica.”
Monica took two steps away from him. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
Monica stared at Nate, unblinking. She turned away from him, grabbed a paperback off the bedside table, and slid it into a two-handle cloth bag with the hospital logo on it. “This has something to do with that woman that came here, Daphanie, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Monica turned back around to face Nate, then sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands between her knees. “Well …”
“She’s pregnant, Monica.”
Monica closed her eyes and winced as if the words had caused her a physical pain. When she looked back at Nate, she said, “The woman can have an abortion.”
“I don’t want to abort my baby.”
“My baby,” Monica echoed him softly, lowering her head. “Then what do you want to do?”
“I want the child. I want it in my life. I want to raise it. It’s what I wanted all my adult life, you know that.”
“I do,” Monica said, looking up. “But how is that going to work for us?”
Nate looked around, wished that they could’ve been somewhere else other than the hospital room where Monica had nearly died and had just woken up from a coma. “I had a decision to make, Monica. This could not work for us. Either I chose the baby, or I chose us.”
“And you chose the baby,” Monica said, a tear coming to her eye, which she quickly, angrily swiped away with her hand.
“Yes.”
“So you’re going to be with that woman? You’re leaving me, and you’re going to marry that woman?”
“Yes.”
Monica dropped her face in her hands. “After everything you’ve done to me, how you treated me … offering me to another man, leaving me because I could not give you a child … I came back to you when you asked. I came back to you. Nate, I almost died for you!” Monica said, raising her voice, tears streaming down her face. “And you tell me that you’re leaving me, and it’s again because I can’t have a child. At least you could’ve fucking come up with something new!” Monica lowered her head again and openly sobbed.
Nate took a step toward Monica, hoping he could comfort her in some way. She slapped him hard across the face.
“No!” she said. “Don’t come near me.” She reached for some Kleenex from the table nearby and dabbed at her cheeks. “I shouldn’t be crying like this.”
“Don’t apologize,” Nate said, rubbing his cheek.
“I’m not. You aren’t worth the tears. You aren’t worth shit,” Monica said. She blew her nose, balled up the Kleenex, and dropped it into the wastebasket. “Now,” she said, looking at Nate, almost as though she hadn’t just been crying. “How do I get my things out of your house without running into you or that bitch you’re going to marry?”
“Just tell me when you’d like to move and I’ll make the house available to you.”
Monica sniffled and tried her best to display a smile. “Thank you, Nate. Now get the hell out of my sight.”
Nate opened his mouth to say something that he hoped would ease the pain some.
“Don’t. Just leave,” Monica said.
Nate turned, and was about to step out the door when he bumped into Tabatha walking in.
“Hey, Nate!” Tabatha said. “Where’ve you been? We’ve been trying to—”
“Tabatha, no!” Monica said. “Don’t talk to him. Nate was just leaving. For good this time.”
84
Lewis didn’t have to tell Nate that the baby might not be his. He could’ve left well enough alone. But Lewis knew what it was like to fall in love with a child he thought was his own, only to find out he had been lied to. Despite all that Nate had put him through, regardless of how much Lewis hated him, Lewis felt that no man deserved to be lied to like that.
Lewis was surprised that Nate actually listened to what he had to say.
“Who is this man?” Nate said. “I don’t believe what you’re saying. I need to meet him.”
Lewis said he’d call him, arrange a meeting, put the two of them together, and let them work things out.
“When?” Nate said.
“I don’t know.”
“Call him now.”
Lewis looked at Nate, sensing that the man was testing him, that he needed proof Lewis wasn’t lying. “Fine,” Lewis said. He got on his cell phone, called Trevor, and scheduled the meeting for later that evening. After hanging up, Lewis said, “You happy, now?”
“Yes,” Nate said.
As Lewis drove away from Nate’s house his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, glanced down at the tiny screen, but did not recognize the number.
“Hello,” he said.
“You have a collect call …” a recorded voice informed Lewis. “… from the Cook County Department of Corrections. Will you accept the charges?”
Lewis paused a moment, pulling the truck to a stop sign. He knew it was Freddy. It could be no one else.
“Yes,” Lewis said, clenching his teeth and tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
There was a long moment of silence in which Lewis drove through the stop sign and pulled the truck to the curb, then parked.
“Motherfucker!” Freddy said, actually sounding happy.
“Why are you calling me?”
“What? All the years we known each other, they all of a sudden gone? You ain’t been thinking about me? You ain’t wonder what happened after you sent your boy Nate Kenny down to Atlanta to get his son?”
“He ain’t my boy.” Lewis said, but he couldn’t deny that he was concerned about what had happened to Freddy. “Tell me.”
“Remember fine-ass Joni? The girl I dated before Kia.”
“Yeah,” Lewis said, remembering her vividly. She was good for Freddy. He was wrong for leaving her. “I remember her.”
“I was in Atlanta staying with her. She took me back. She still loved me, man,” Freddy said, his voice trailing off. “We was gonna be together. We was gonna get money from that motherfucker Nate, then we was gonna just go off together. But … but …”
Lewis could hear the emotion in Freddy’s voice, making it hard for him to go on. Lewis actually felt sorry for Freddy at that moment.
“But your boy had her shot. That motherfucker had her killed!” Freddy yelled into the phone. “Now she gone. She gone, man.” Lewis heard Freddy sniffle through the phone.
“I’m … I’m sorry, Lewis said.
“It’s cool,” Freddy said, forcing an insincere chuckle. “They caught me, and brought me back here. They bringing me up on attempted murder charges and all that shit. I got a good public defender, though. Cute little skinny white chick. She all young and innocent looking. A judge will believe her when she say I’m insane.”
“What are you talking about?” Lewis said, sitting up in his seat, attentive.
“Yeah, she got the records from when I did that time in the mental hospital. Me killing my pops, my house getting taken, my baby getting aborted—she gonna say all that triggered some mental shit in me that made me go temporarily insane again.”
“You ain’t insane!” Lewis said. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you went to kill Nate and Monica.”
“I told you, Monica was a mistake,” Freddy said. �
�But yeah, I knew what I was doing. I always do. But they don’t know that. She gonna try to get me a year in a mental institution, and then I’ll be out.”
Lewis was silent. No, he didn’t like Freddy being behind bars any more than he liked being there himself, but Freddy had almost killed Nate and Monica.
“You know you deserve worse for what you almost did to them,” Lewis said.
Freddy chuckled. “You don’t even know half the foul shit I did. Seems like nobody found out yet, ’cause it ain’t came back to bite me. Bottom line, if I win this case, I’m gonna be on the streets again in a year, and I think I’m gonna be paying another visit to motherfucker Nate’s house.”
“You don’t even know if you’re gonna win. And if you do, that’d be the stupidest move you could make. You’d be right back in jail.”
“That’s if they caught me. But if they did, it’d be worth it. He played me, so that motherfucker gotta pay.”
“Whatever,” Lewis said, discounting Freddy’s crazy talk. “I gotta go.”
“Hold on,” Freddy said, pausing. There was silence for a long moment, as if Freddy was thinking. “You played me, too. You know what I’m saying?”
Lewis sat up more in his seat, gripping his phone tighter, knowing he wasn’t hearing what he thought he was. “No. What the fuck are you saying?”
“You played me, Lewis. You acted like a little bitch and played me. But don’t worry, I got at least a year to spend up in this piece, so I’m gonna think about how to deal with that. You never know, you might have to pay, too.”
“What!” Lewis said, yelling into the phone. “Motherfucker, you try to come after me, and—” He heard a click. The line went dead.
“Hello? Hello?” Lewis set the phone on the passenger seat, then stared out the windshield. He told himself right now he had to forget that conversation, otherwise he would be looking over his shoulder, watching the calendar, counting the days till Freddy was released—if he was released. He couldn’t do that. There were too many good things happening to him now for him to worry about that nonsense. He would concentrate on the present and worry about Freddy if and when that crazy motherfucker found the courage to try to step to him.
