The Million Dollar Divorce

by RM Johnson

  Since he’d been seeing her, he’d brought her home flowers practically every day he’d come over there, filled her fridge with groceries, and before leaving every night, asked how she was doing with money.

  “I don’t need anything. You pay me enough at work, Mr. Kenny,” Tori said, kissing him on the cheek at the door before he walked out.

  But those weren’t the only reasons why Tori seemed to be heavily relying on the success of Nate’s plan. While they were lying on Tori’s sofa the other night, candles lit around them, she confessed something.

  “I need to be honest with you,” she said. “When you said you knew that there was no one in my life, you were wrong. There was a man that I’ve been seeing.”

  Nate sat up some on the sofa, intrigued. “And…”

  “I had been seeing him for the last two years, but he thought there was more to it than I knew there was. He wanted to marry me.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I never told him anything, because I knew I really didn’t love him, but I didn’t want to be by myself the rest of my life, so I made him wait.”

  “Until…”

  “Until last week, when you came to me. The very next day, I told him it was over.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it was two years,” Nate said.

  “Nate,” Tori said, adjusting herself so she could look into his eyes. “My mother left me when I was a child, and my father died, leaving my grandparents to raise me. After that, I had abandonment issues. After you left, I told myself I’d never trust another man again. But if you tell me that I can, I will.”

  “You can,” Nate said. “You can.”

  When Nate opened the door and stepped into his house, Monica was on the living room sofa, her legs stretched out onto the coffee table, watching TV as she sipped from a glass of wine.

  Nate closed the door behind him, and Monica stood. “Hey, baby,” she said, a cheery smile on her face.

  Nate took another step in, then felt that something seemed not quite right. Monica was wearing some bright red lace bra-and-panty getup, covered by a long, sheer nightgown. She walked seductively toward him, and through the garment’s material, Nate could see the dark circles around his wife’s nipples, the dark patch of hair between her legs. Her face was completely made up, and her hair was done, as though she had just spent the last half hour at a cosmetics counter, and some time before that at a hair salon. She stopped in front of him, wearing matching red heels that had to have been three inches high.

  With the wineglass still in one hand, she extended her arms. “Well, aren’t you going to give me a hug?”

  Nate set his briefcase down and stepped into his wife’s embrace.

  “I missed you,” Monica whispered into his ear.

  “I missed you as well,” Nate whispered back, with not nearly as much passion.

  She grabbed his hand, pulled him into the living room, and sat him down on the sofa. “This is a good movie,” she said, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. “It just started.”

  She lifted his feet, one at a time, into her lap, untied and pulled off each of his shoes.

  “You comfortable?” Monica asked, standing before him now.

  “Yeah, sure,” Nate said, having not the slightest idea of what was going on.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Uh, no. I ate out with my client.”

  “Then do you want some wine? I opened a fresh bottle.”

  “No.”

  “Mixed drink?”

  “No.”

  “Beer?”

  “No.”

  “You have to want something. Let me get you something,” Monica practically pleaded.

  “Okay. A glass of water, please,” Nate said, and watched as Monica took the long way around the coffee table, as though she were modeling her new nightwear for him.

  When she returned, she handed Nate the glass of water, a paper towel wrapped around it.

  She sat down beside him quietly, but still Nate felt on guard. He took a sip from his water to appease his wife. She smiled at him, as though happy he was enjoying it, then he set the glass down, and told himself he would watch a little of the movie since it was on, and his wife gave it a good endorsement.

  Five minutes later, he felt his wife occasionally taking a glance at him, but Nate simply ignored her.

  Monica must’ve sensed that, and was offended by it, for five minutes later, she stood up from the sofa. “So, you aren’t even going to compliment me, are you?” she said, her hands on her hips.

  “Monica, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about me! This!” she said, gesturing with a hand at her hair and outfit. She walked in front of the TV, blocking it, at what happened to be a very good part in the movie, then said, “I did all this. Bought a new night set, did my hair, my makeup, just so you would have something nice to look at when you got home from a hard day’s work, and you don’t acknowledge it, act like you don’t even care.”

  “I care,” Nate said.

  “Then why didn’t you say anything about it?”

  “I noticed you the moment I walked in the door.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something? Would it have been too much for you to do that?”

  Nate didn’t answer.

  “Are you even attracted to me anymore?”

  “Of course I am,” Nate said.

  “You don’t act like it. You don’t look at me anymore. Don’t touch me, kiss me. Nothing. You act like you’re sharing this house with your brother or something. So I’m asking you again, are you still attracted to me?”

  “And like I said before, yes.”

  “Than prove it,” Monica said, slipping the sheer gown off her shoulders, and letting it fall to the floor. She slid her panties down from her hips, and let them fall as well, stepping out of them. “Prove it to me. Make love to me, right now,” she said, then unclasped her bra, letting her breasts fall naturally in front of her.

  “Come over here and make love to me.”

  “Monica, you’ve been drinking.”

  “I know I’ve been drinking. That’s one of the reasons I’m so damn horny. But the other is that you haven’t given me dick in a week. Now come over here and do it to me!”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. You say you’re still attracted to me. What is the problem?”

  “There’s a lot on my mind. Still stuff with the baby, the adoption you asked me about.”

  “Forget about that!” Monica insisted. “The baby is over with, and don’t even worry about the adoption. Right now I don’t care if we ever do that. All I’m thinking about is you and me, you inside me. I want to feel you, know that I still do it for you. Now come over here and fuck me!” Monica demanded, practically yelling.

  Nate shot up from he sofa. “I can’t!” he yelled himself.

  Then there was silence, as he and his wife stood across from each other, the coffee table between them, Nate fully clothed, Monica stark naked.

  “Then what is it, are you gay?”

  If his reason for doing this weren’t so serious, Nate would’ve probably laughed at what was just said to him.

  “No.”

  “Then what, Nate? What? Make me understand, so I know how to behave, know what to expect.”

  Nate paused a moment before answering, then simply said, “It’s stress.” He grabbed his glass of water from the table, took a sip, set it back, then turned and headed for the stairs. “Don’t forget to turn the TV off before you come up.”

  30

  Before going to bed, Lewis looked over the photos of Mr. Kenny’s wife several times. The pictures were propped up against his clock radio.

  The first time he looked over them, he told himself it was preparation. He was studying the woman because he wanted to be able to pick her out in a crowded room. The next time when he grabbed the photos, he knew it was more than
him familiarizing himself with the woman’s appearance. That time, he was gazing at the woman in the photos, almost admiring her. As he looked closer at the images, the photos only inches from his face, Lewis wondered what she was thinking at the time each one of the pictures was taken.

  In three of them, she was smiling, looking genuinely happy. In the other, she appeared simply content. She wasn’t smiling, but Lewis thought that the look on her face said that there was nothing more that she wanted than what she had at that moment.

  Happy and content summed up the four photos, but he wondered, wherever she was, was she feeling that way now? Considering all that her own husband was going through, all that he was paying Lewis, she couldn’t have been feeling the same way. She had to have been feeling just the opposite.

  Why would her husband be doing this to her? This woman was not only amazingly beautiful, she was probably the sweetest thing in the world, probably loved the hell out of that bastard husband of hers, and Lewis was about to help him do something that he knew was incredibly wrong.

  That moment, Lewis told himself he couldn’t do it. He reached for the phone that lay beside him, preparing to call Mr. Kenny and tell him the entire thing was off.

  But then Lewis thought about everything that was going on in his life. He needed that money, because with it, he figured, he could get his own place. A place where he could take his daughter and raise her the right way.

  Lewis set the phone back down, knowing that he had to go through with it. His sorry circumstances had tied his hands.

  Still staring at the photos of Monica, he apologized to her for what he would soon do, leaned across the bed, clicked off the lamp, and called it a night.

  Upon waking up this morning, grabbing the photos again was the first thing he did. He looked at them for only a moment, slid open the nightstand drawer, placed them in, and closed it.

  There was no more time for questioning himself. He had to do it, whether he liked it or not.

  Lewis took a hot shower, brushed his teeth, shaved, and combed his now short hair.

  Yesterday evening, after Mr. Kenny left, Lewis did as he was told, going out and buying something he could wear when he met Mrs. Kenny today. He went to the bank first, stopped at the Gap, bought one pair of khakis and a shirt, then jumped in his truck to have his hair taken care of.

  He pulled the big Cadillac up to the curb just in front of Classic Clippers’ huge storefront window. All the barbers stopped what they were doing to check out the truck with its gleaming chrome wheels, and when Lewis stepped out of it, he saw them point and shake their heads.

  Lewis activated the alarm on the truck, and walked into the shop. He nodded at a couple of the barbers, said, “What’s up?” to two more, then headed directly over to Beasly’s chair.

  “Haven’t seen you around in a couple of days, boy,” Beasly said, clipping the stray ends from off the top of a graying man’s head with a pair of shears.

  “Yeah, a lot’s been going on. Do you think you can give me a cut when you’re done with him?”

  Beasly looked over Lewis suspiciously, glanced out at the Cadillac sitting outside the store, then said, “Yeah. I don’t see why not.”

  When Lewis finally did sit in Beasly’s chair, the old man threw the cape around the front of Lewis, secured it around his neck, then asked, “How do you want it?”

  “I don’t know,” Lewis said. “Short. Businesslike, whatever that is.”

  “Taper the back, close at the temples?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good.”

  Beasly grabbed his clippers, was preparing to start on Lewis’s hair, when Lewis said, “I’m here to get a cut, but I also wanted to tell you that I ain’t gonna be working here no more, and I got the money to pay you my booth rent.” Under the cape, Lewis pulled out a small wad of money, pealed off four hundred-dollar bills, folded them, and offered them to Beasly.

  “Your rent is only half that.”

  “I know, but I just wanted to thank you for helping me out when you did.”

  “By that car you driving, and the money you trying to hand me, look like you don’t need no help no more.”

  “No. I don’t,” Lewis said.

  “I wonder why that is. If you out there doing what you ain’t supposed to be doing, I don’t want your money, not even what you owe me.”

  “I ain’t doing nothing like that, Beasly. I’m just doing what I got to do, but it ain’t nothing like that. Now just take the money,” Lewis said, still holding it out for him.

  “I said, I just want the two.”

  “Fine,” Lewis said, keeping half the money back and handing the other two hundred over to Beasly.

  Both men remained silent for the duration of the haircut. Beasly pulled the cape from around Lewis and gave him a mirror. Lewis gave his new haircut a quick glance, liked what he saw, then stood up from his chair.

  He dug back in his pocket to pay Beasly, when the old man said, “Don’t worry about it. That one’s on the house.”

  “Thanks,” Lewis said. “For everything.” Then he turned and headed for the door.”

  “Lewis,” Beasly called.

  Lewis turned around, just after he pulled the front door open.

  “If you doin’ the wrong thing out there, it’ll catch up to you,” Beasly warned. “Trust me, it’ll catch you, boy.”

  After that, Lewis walked out the door.

  Now, this morning, Lewis stood in the living room of his brand-new temporary housing. He looked over himself in the full-length mirror. His khakis were neatly pressed, the button-down shirt made him look like an overgrown schoolboy, but his hair didn’t look as bad as he thought it would.

  He slapped some grease into it, took a brush and a wave cap, and when he was finished, he had a clean-cut style, with thick, shiny waves running over the top of his scalp.

  He smiled wide into the mirror, and his teeth appeared straight and white behind his lips.

  “Well,” Lewis said to his reflection, then sighed. “This is it.” He walked to the front door, pulled it open, then walked out.

  The store where Monica worked was not hard to find, but he had to park his truck in a garage and walk the two blocks over. He stood across the street from the store on Michigan Avenue, practically on the curb, just staring at it, as cars whipped back and forth in front of him.

  It was 9:30 A.M. Morning traffic was still heavy, but Lewis told himself he wanted to get to the store early, hoping that he would be the only customer there, and wouldn’t have to share Mrs. Kenny’s attention with anyone else. He knew he would need time to make his impression, and he didn’t want either of them to be rushed.

  The name of the store was AERO. Huge black letters hung over the plate glass windows announcing that he had the right place.

  When the traffic signal displayed the illuminated walking figure, Lewis quickly crossed the street. He walked right up to the door, grabbed the handle, and was all of a sudden frozen with fear.

  What if she sees right through me? Lewis thought. What if she somehow knows that I was sent by her husband, knows about everything we spoke about? What would I do then?

  But there was no way, he tried to reason, tried to force himself to believe. It was just his nerves talking; and then, trying to find a way to calm down, he asked himself why was he tripping. Just a little while ago, he was standing around looking like a fool, begging people on the street to cut hair for $15, and now he’s getting paid five grand a week to come on to a beautiful woman. He felt a slight surge of confidence flow through him, and then he pulled the door open and entered the store.

  When Lewis walked in the store, it immediately reminded him of the town house he was living in. It felt like someone’s home. He walked across the hardwood floors, trying to appear as though he was accustomed to walking into places like this, and headed for a rack of suits.

  To his left was the store’s checkout counter, and there was a slim sister standing back there, writing something with a pen. It wasn’t
Monica, he knew right away. She looked up from what she was doing, gave Lewis a smile, which he returned, and then he kept on walking.

  A funky, jazz-soul-like music played at a low level throughout the store, which further helped to relax Lewis as he browsed through the countless suits on the rack before him, but he wondered if he had walked into the wrong store.

  He started to feel a little anxiety build inside him, wondering what he should do next, when someone said, “May I help you with something?”

  Lewis spun around, and was shocked to see Mr. Kenny’s wife standing just before him.

  It was her! He couldn’t believe it. The two-dimensional woman from the photos was now standing just in front of him, and it was amazing how little justice those snapshots did to this woman’s appearance.

  What he saw before him was a tan-toned woman with jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin was flawless, radiant. Her lips were full, and pink, a beauty mark lying just to the left corner of her mouth. She stood somewhere between five two and five four, just the height Lewis loved his women, and the shape that Lewis saw under that floral spring dress was that of a goddess.

  All of that caused Lewis to stutter when he tried to answer Mrs. Kenny’s question.

  After tripping over his words a number of times, Lewis finally said, “I’m looking for a nice suit.”

  “Well, then you came to the right place,” Mrs. Kenny said, smiling. “Follow me.”

  Lewis watched her walk away, slightly transfixed by the smile she had given him.

  When Mrs. Kenny turned around and found Lewis not behind her, she called, “Uh, sir. Follow me, please.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lewis said, quickly following behind her.

  Fifteen minutes later, Monica opened up one of the dressing rooms, and hung three suits on a hook for Lewis.

  Lewis stepped in, and before closing the door, Monica said, “Okay, Lewis, let me know if you need another size, and I’ll grab it for you, okay?”