The Million Dollar Deception Page 14

  He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. She opened her eyes, smiled at the sight of her son.

  “Did you sell the house?”

  “No, Moms. The man wasn’t serious.”

  She placed a hand on Freddy’s, squeezed it. “It’s gonna be all right. There’ll be another buyer.”

  Freddy smiled, then said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, baby.”

  “If someone is trying to pressure you into something that you know will hurt a friend of yours, would you do it, knowing that if you don’t, there’ll be bad consequences?”

  “I didn’t even have to hear the rest of the question before I knew the answer, son. If it’s truly a friend of yours—a real friend—never let anyone pressure you into anything that can hurt that person. How I see it, there are no consequences that bad to make it worth losing a good friend.”

  “I think there are, Moms.”

  “The consequences will pass. A good friendship lasts forever.”

  Freddy thought about what his mother said a moment longer, and then a smile spread across his face.

  “You know what, Moms? I think you might be right.” Freddy leaned over, kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going downstairs to see what’s up with the future mother of my child.”

  “You do that, Fred.”

  Freddy hopped off the bed and walked toward the door.

  “And Fred,” his mother called.

  “Yeah?” Freddy turned, the smile still on his face.

  “My boss called today,” his mother said, looking down at her hands. “He said he couldn’t wait any longer on me. He had to fill my position. I no longer have that job.”

  Freddy lowered his head there in front of his mother, feeling the pain and sorrow he knew she was trying hard to hide from him.

  Downstairs in his basement apartment, the phone rang.

  Kia moved to answer it, but coming down the stairs, Freddy said, “Don’t. It’s just another bill collector.”

  Freddy walked over to Kia, hugged her tight.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Kia asked.

  “Did you know Moms lost her job?”

  “I know. She told me. I called her employer, practically begged for him to wait for your mother to get on her feet. He asked how long, but because I didn’t know, he said he just couldn’t.”

  Freddy pulled away from Kia. “I can’t pay for everything with just the money I make.”

  Kia followed behind him. “I would say that I could take out some loans to help, but since my father isn’t paying my tuition anymore…”

  “No. It’s okay,” Freddy said.

  “Maybe I can get a job, or postpone my last year until—”

  “No! This is my mother’s house, but I’m supposed to be the man. You’re in school. You do school. This is my responsibility. I’ll take care of it.”

  “But how?” Kia asked desperately.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

  48

  Last night, after his mother told him about her losing her job, after Kia tried to offer postponing school to help him maintain the household, Freddy called the number Nate had given him.

  He stood over the phone at almost eleven o’clock, the living room lamp burning dimly beside him. With his voice filled with guilt, he said, “What do I have to do?”

  “Take down this address and show up tomorrow at twelve-fifteen P.M.” Nate said.

  Freddy grabbed the pen from the end table and started writing.

  The next day, Freddy sat uncomfortably in the bar of the InterContinental Hotel on Michigan Avenue. The room was huge, ceilings stretching high above him, the walls graced with old paintings by some Italian artist.

  Men in business suits sat at tables, sipping cognac and smoking cigars, while Freddy sat at a back corner table, wearing dirty jeans, work boots, and his work shirt.

  Nate sat before him, wearing his usual dark suit. He sipped occasionally from a glass of scotch.

  Nate offered to get Freddy a drink, but Freddy declined, being on his lunch break. Freddy had been there for half an hour, reluctantly spilling his guts in regard to everything he knew about Lewis.

  “And how does he get along with my ex-wife?” Nate asked.

  “Like any other couple. Sometimes good, sometimes bad.”

  “When is it good?”

  “When Lewis is fucking her. He wears her ass out whenever he can, as often as he can.”

  Freddy saw the muscle in Nate’s jaw tighten, and he smiled to himself.

  “I see. And when is it bad?”

  Freddy wanted to lie, but as soon as he’d sat down, Nate had reiterated just how important Freddy’s honesty was to him.

  There was a manila file that sat on the table before Nate. His hand rested flat on it.

  “There’s more in this file about you than you probably know about yourself. I have even more information on Lewis. So if you lie to me, I’ll know. If you withhold information from me, I’ll know. And if that happens, what will happen next?” Nate asked.

  “You’ll throw my family out and tear down our house.”

  “That’s right. I will not hesitate. You understand?”

  Freddy understood completely, that’s why when Nate asked him when Lewis’s relationship with Monica was bad, Freddy answered, “Most of the other times. Monica sometimes deals with men with the business. Every now and then Lewis gets jealous. They fight a lot about that. And then they just don’t have a whole lot in common.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All Monica seems to talk about is work, trying to expand her business, how much money she’s making. Lewis doesn’t like to hear about that. It makes him feel like he’s not doing nothing.”

  “That’s exactly what he is doing—nothing,” Nate said.

  Freddy ignored the comment, and continued. “Lewis watches sports, listens to rap music, and we play a lot of PlayStation Three. We smoke weed every now and then, and Monica doesn’t like that.”

  “The fool doesn’t try to better himself? Doesn’t he know that she won’t tolerate that for long?”

  “He supposed to be in college.”

  “What do you mean, supposed to be?”

  Freddy immediately regretted mentioning that. But went on and said, “Monica is paying for him to go to school, but he stopped going a little while ago.”

  “She doesn’t know this?”

  “No. He spends that time at work with me now, making extra money and saving it.”

  Nate smiled, shaking his head. “For what?”

  “We want to start our own real-estate company. He wants to prove to Monica that he can be a success.”

  “He’s trying to become the man he was pretending to be when he met Monica.”

  “I don’t know,” Freddy said. “Maybe.”

  “Why does she stay with him? What does she see in him?”

  “She loves him, and she loves his daughter.”

  “The daughter. Layla is her name, right?” Nate said.

  “Yeah. She cares for that girl like she’s her own. Like the daughter she could never have.”

  “And Lewis knows this, doesn’t he? He uses that to his advantage.”

  “He ain’t using nothing. He’s just happy Monica treats his daughter right.”

  Nate turned up his glass, swallowing the last of his drink, and then stood. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t like what I’m doing. This is wrong, and I don’t like that you making me do it.”

  “You better learn to like it. We have a long way to go,” Nate said, pulling out his wallet. He laid a crisp new hundred-dollar bill on the table beside Freddy’s hand.

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Your mother’s not working, and you have bills to pay. This will keep something in your pocket. Do what you supposed to do, and there’ll be more to come.”

  Freddy slid the bill off the table.

  “Continue to keep your ears open w
hen you’re with him. And don’t turn your cell off. I don’t know when I’ll want to talk to you again.”

  Nate walked away. Freddy was left there holding the hundred-dollar bill he wanted to tear in half, but knew he could not afford to.

  49

  The next morning, Nate sat on his usual bench at the park, watching Nathaniel play in the grass with the fire truck Monica had given him.

  Nate glanced at his watch: 7:45 A.M. He wondered if Monica was going to appear.

  As he did every morning, Nate came to the park with Nathaniel, but for the past two mornings, Monica did not show, and he had been starting to believe that she was serious about never meeting him there again. After he had gotten more information from Freddy than he had expected yesterday, Nate had returned to his office and dialed Monica at work.

  “He misses you” was the first thing Nate said, after Monica had picked up.

  It took her a minute to respond. “What do you expect me to do about that?”

  “Visit us. Tomorrow morning at the park.”

  “You know I can’t. I told you that.”

  “Tell my son. Maybe he’d understand it better coming from you. When I tell him, he just crosses his arms, pokes his lip out, and says, ‘But I want Mommy.’”

  Monica laughed. “Sorry. You’re the one who convinced him I was his mother.”

  “I didn’t have to convince him. It’s true,” Nate said. “At least to me.”

  There was a thoughtful silence.

  “Besides,” Nate continued, “I want to talk to you about your stores. You never told me what your quarterly report looked like, and I think I have a business opportunity that you could benefit from.”

  “I don’t know, Nate. I told you—”

  “Think about it. If you decide yes, you know where I’ll be.”

  Now, still sitting on the bench, Nate looked down the path Monica had come from the times she had visited. There was still no sign of her.

  He took a sip of the coffee he had bought and felt to see if the cup he had bought her was still warm. It was.

  “Is that for me?” Monica said, standing on the other side of him.

  “If you keep on sneaking up on me…,” Nate said, standing and offering her a hug.

  Monica looked at him oddly. “Nate, I’m not going there with you.”

  “You don’t hug your male friends? Monica, please. I promise I won’t cop a feel.”

  Monica allowed Nate to hug her. She gave him three friendly pats on the back.

  They sat, and Nate handed Monica her coffee. “Carmel macchiato. Your favorite.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “And a French cruller,” Nate said, offering Monica a small paper bag. “Also your favorite.”

  “There is no game to win, Nate. No points to score.”

  “I know that. I’m just being the wonderful man that I am.”

  Monica shook her head, sipping from her coffee. “Where is Nathaniel, so I can give him a hug?”

  “He’s out there playing with his truck, but let me have a minute with you first. Tell me about the report.”

  Monica smiled widely all of a sudden. “Oh, the profits we made this quarter, the margins—we did far better than I ever expected.”

  “Congratulations. That’s wonderful!” Nate said. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with the extra revenue? I know you’re not just going to stick that in the bank.”

  “No. I’m thinking about putting it into advertising time. Or maybe expanding the store. Or I know this is crazy, but maybe even looking to open another one. The properties are just so expensive.”

  A huge smile spread across Nate’s face.

  “What?” Monica said.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “What?” Monica said, more excited.

  “A guy I know just came to me a few days ago about a few warehouses he’s trying to unload. He said they were perfect for retail space.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. And he said he would sell them to me for a song.”

  Monica eagerly scooted to the edge of the bench, “Do you think he still has them?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Nate said, pulling his cell from his pocket. He dialed his friend’s number, waited for an answer, then said, “Bob, it’s Nate. You still have those warehouses that you came to me with the other day? Only one left, huh?” Nate said, looking in Monica’s eyes. “But it’s the best one? Hold it then. I have someone who I think is very interested. Yeah…yeah. Now I still get the friendship deal, right? Good.” Nate laughed, winking at Monica. “Okay…good, I’ll get back with you later today.”

  Nate slapped his cell phone closed, then said to Monica, “He has one left. Just let me know when you want to check it out.”

  Monica practically jumped in Nate’s lap as she threw her arms around him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  “Whoa, whoa!” Nate said. “I’m not going there with you, because there are no points to score.”

  Monica slapped Nate playfully across the arm. “Shut up.”

  “Ouch. Gentle. I’m still healing, remember.”

  They laughed together, and then they sat in an awkward moment of silence.

  “What are you doing, Nate?” Monica asked, all of a sudden.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you want?”

  If Nate were to tell her the truth, he would’ve said he wanted to expose Lewis Waters for the loser clown he was. He wanted Monica to kick his ass out of her life, not just because he knew that would bring pain to Lewis, but because Nate knew Monica took joy from raising the man’s little girl. Nate would’ve told her that he also wanted to win Monica’s trust, have her agree to come back to him, think that everything would be as it was before when their marriage was good. He would allow her to fall in love with Nathaniel. He would try to convince Monica to trust him with her money, her assets, possibly get her to sign a power of attorney over to him. He would take everything he could, all the money she had swindled from him and everything she had bought with it. And if he could not get hold of her possessions, her finances, then he would just leave her again. He would leave her and hope that the loss of the tie she had developed with Nate’s son, and the loss of the love she had thought she had gotten again from Nate, would be too much for her to overcome. Nate wanted Monica to suffer horrendously and alone for the lies she had told him, for the years she made him waste with her without giving him children, and for the money she had stolen from him.

  “Nate,” Monica said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I said, what do you want?”

  Nate looked into Monica’s eyes and said as sincerely as he possibly could, “Don’t you know? I want you.”

  50

  Later that afternoon, Monica sat in her office, just staring at her desk phone. Unbeknownst to her, Tabatha was standing just within the door and had been watching her for the last minute.

  “I can’t take it anymore! Are you gonna make a call, or what?”

  “The annual Women in Business Ball,” Monica said, tilting all the way back in her chair. “I haven’t told Lewis about it yet. Is that wrong of me?”

  “What are you waiting for? It’s Thursday.”

  “I know. But if I have him go with me, would that be running the risk of—”

  “Him acting like a baby, complaining about going? Then once he got there, drinking too much, talking badly about people, calling all the black folks white wannabes because they decided to go to school, work jobs, and make lots of money, and if a man happened to look at you too long, would you be risking Lewis clubbing that man over the head? I’d say yes. You’d definitely be rolling the dice on that one,” Tabatha said.

  “I know all that. But I’m asking would I be running the risk of finding out that he really doesn’t care about any of it? Before, when I thought it meant nothing to him, I just accepted it, told myself I had to deal with it. But now that I know that there is someone who feels
as passionately about all this as I do—”

  “You mean Nate?” Tabatha interjected.

  Monica ignored Tabatha’s interruption, saying, “I told you what Lewis said when I showed him our quarterlies.”

  “Yeah, that neither he, nor Layla, who might actually be smarter than her father, wanted to hear anything about it.”

  Monica stood, walked out from behind her desk. “Doesn’t he know how important all this is to me? And if he cared, wouldn’t he act like it? Hell, even if he didn’t care, shouldn’t he at least fake it?”

  “This is how he’s always been. Why are you acting like this is new information?”

  “I don’t know,” Monica said, turning in a circle, pushing her hands through her hair. “No. I do know. This morning I told Nate I’m thinking about another store and he just went and got in touch with someone he knows who’s selling some retail space. He says he can get it for me for cheap if I’m interested.”

  “Wow,” Tabatha said. “That’s juice.”

  “It totally just came out of nowhere. But just with that one gesture, I could tell that he really wants me to succeed with this. It felt like he sincerely cared. And that made me wonder. Shouldn’t I be getting that feeling from the man I’m about to marry, not the man I just divorced?”

  Tabatha just sat there, looking up at Monica. “You’re right.”

  “So what does it say about a man who doesn’t care about something he knows the woman he’s supposed to love cares about?”

  “Hmmm. Or you could ask,” Tabatha said, grinning, “what does it say about a woman who doesn’t care about a man who loves the same things the woman he once loved cares about?”

  “What?” Monica said.

  “Think about it. You’ll get it eventually.”

  51

  The next morning, Abbey sat, her cell phone pressed to her ear, beside Nate in the first-class section of a United airliner, preparing to take off for St. Louis. The day before, she had done a more detailed search on Selena Wells, Lewis’s deceased girlfriend and the mother of his child. What Abbey discovered was that Selena had family in St. Louis, a mother named Salesha, forty-five years old, and a sister named Salonica, thirty years old. The sister had two fifteen-year-old twin daughters named Lena and Lois. The family lived in relative poverty.