The Million Dollar Deception Read online

  “Do you know how we were living?” Lewis said, getting angry. “I couldn’t take care of her. I could barely buy food and pay the bills. You think I wanted to give her up? I wasn’t doing it because I didn’t love her enough. I was doing it because I love her as much as I do! But you came along, and I knew you would love her, treat her like your own, and then I wouldn’t have to be without my child. I was only trying to do what was best for her…what was best for us.”

  “And where does stealing fifty thousand dollars from Nate fall? Is that doing what’s best for us, too?”

  And so she did know, Lewis thought. “Monica, you have to know what was going on. The man was blackmailing Freddy.”

  “And that’s why you and Freddy damn near beat him half to death in front of his three-year-old son?”

  “Monica, he was trying to take you from me.”

  “And sending him those pictures of us having sex—that video that I never wanted to make in the first place—what, that was supposed to stop him?”

  “Monica, you don’t understand what kind of man he is.”

  “I know exactly who he is. I was married to him for four years. And I don’t believe a thing you’re saying to me.”

  “I’m telling you. He did all those things. You think I’d lie to you?”

  “You’ve stolen from me. There’s fifty thousand dollars missing from my account.”

  “I put it back.”

  “You stole it from Nate so you could put it back. You were trying to cover your tracks, thinking I would never find out. But I have, and now—”

  “And now what?” Lewis said, taking a step closer to her. “There’s more to this than you know. But we can talk about it, get through it, and still have our life.”

  “Lewis, I don’t think so,” Monica said, standing, pulling Layla close to her.

  Lewis slapped his palms to his face, threw his head back, and cried, “No, no, no!” When he pulled down his hands, there were tears running over his cheeks. “Monica, I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “But you threatened to shoot Nate.”

  “I would never lie to you,” Lewis said, stepping just in front of Monica and his daughter. “All I want is for us to love each other, get married, and raise my little girl.”

  “Lewis, too much has happened.”

  Lewis quickly closed the gap between him and Monica, put his arms around her and his child, and kissed Monica softly on the cheek, his tears clinging to her face. “Don’t you know I love you? Don’t you know that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then say we can be together. Say you won’t leave me.”

  “Lewis—”

  “Say it!” Lewis said, squeezing Monica tighter.

  “Daddy,” Layla said, “you’re scaring me.”

  “Daddy’s fine,” Lewis said. “Monica’s fine, and everything’s going to be alright, right Monica?”

  “That’s right,” Monica said, seeming scared as well.

  “Good. Now all we have to do is decide when we’re going to get married and everything will be perfect. Right, baby?” Lewis said, kissing Monica’s cheek again.

  “Right,” Monica said.

  Just then Lewis heard police sirens screaming in the distance. He hoped they were for someone else, but something deep inside him knew they weren’t. A moment later, he saw two cars screech to a halt in front of the house.

  The doors opened. “Lewis Waters,” a metallic sounding voice said through a bullhorn. “Step away from the woman and child.”

  Lewis smiled sadly at Monica. “If you only knew how much I love you.”

  “Lewis Waters,” the police requested again, “step away from the woman and child.”

  Lewis took Monica’s face in his palms and kissed her lips softly. He then reached down to his daughter and said, “Baby, Daddy has to go with the police officers, but Monica will take care of you until I come back, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy,” Layla said, about to cry.

  “You know how much Daddy loves you, right?”

  “I know, Daddy.”

  “Good.” Lewis hugged his daughter tight, as though he never wanted to let her go, then stood, turned to the police, and raised his arms over his head.

  “If you are armed, remove the weapon from your person,” the police said.

  Lewis slowly reached behind him, under his shirt, pulled out his gun, and dropped it to the ground beside him. A tear raced from Monica’s eye as she grabbed Layla and pulled her close. Three police officers rushed from their vehicles, hurried across the lawn, grabbed Lewis, pushed him to the ground, and then handcuffed his wrists behind his back.

  “Good-bye, Lewis,” Monica said softly to herself.

  85

  Three weeks later, Freddy sat waiting in a chair that faced a two-inch-thick unbreakable glass barrier. This had been the first time that he was allowed to visit Lewis in the Cook County Department of Corrections facility.

  Now, after writing Lewis half a dozen letters, apologizing to him for everything he had done, and begging to come see him, Lewis had finally agreed. He had called Freddy two nights ago.

  “I’ll give you five minutes. After that, don’t contact me again.”

  Upon arriving at the prison, Freddy was searched, then escorted into the visitation area and told to sit.

  He had been waiting for fifteen minutes and could not help but think about all that had happened over the recent weeks. The day after Monica had found out about Lewis taking the money from her account, Freddy had gone to Nate.

  “It’s all over. You going to transfer the new house into my name now?” Freddy asked, standing in Nate’s den.

  Nate was writing something on a pad, then looked up and said, “You’re not getting the house, Freddy. Our agreement was that you not breathe a word of what was happening to anyone, least of all Lewis. You didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

  “But everything was done. I did what you told me,” Freddy said, worried. “You had the money. Monica found out, and the police have Lewis. It all worked out. I should get the house.”

  “It just so happened to work out the way I wanted it to. But there was no guarantee of that. You telling Lewis could have ruined everything, could have negated all the work and planning I put into this. That was all because of you,” Nate said, rising from his desk and walking around it toward his door. “So you get nothing.”

  “Then just give me the deed to the old house, what you promised me at first. That’s the least you can do, considering I lost my friend behind this.”

  Nate stopped before opening the door, turned to face Freddy. “I sold that eyesore to a developer who’s made plans for new construction. I assume he’ll be notifying you as to when you need to vacate.”

  “What!” Freddy said angrily, stepping in front of Nate.

  “You heard me. I’m sorry, but those were the terms of the agreement.”

  “What are you talking about, terms of the agreement,” Freddy said desperately, grabbing Nate by the shirt. “That’s my home. My father bought that house. It’s the only place my family has to live.”

  “You should have thought of that when you breached our contract and informed Lewis of what we were doing. Now get out before I call the police.”

  Lewis walked up behind the thick glass, wearing a baggy gray jumper, a serial number stenciled on his left breast. He sat down, grabbed the phone at his side, and waited for Freddy to pick up.

  “Five minutes,” Lewis said.

  “How you been doing?” Freddy said, smiling as best he could.

  Lewis did not answer, just stared at Freddy, unblinking.

  “Why you still in here? Thought you would’ve made bail by now.”

  “No money, and Monica ain’t paying it,” Lewis mumbled, looking through the glass, not at Freddy, but past him.

  “You shoulda called me. I would’ve given you—”

  “Four minutes.”

  “All right, all right,” Freddy said. “But
when you going to court? I can be there. Be a witness. Tell them it’s all on me. It’s all my fault.”

  “Court’s in three days, and I don’t want you there. There ain’t shit else you can do for me,” Lewis said, now staring directly into Freddy’s eyes. “You already done enough.”

  Freddy lowered his head, ran a hand over the hair that was growing longer than he usually kept it. He looked up, changed the subject. “So what’s happening with Layla?”

  “Monica’s got her. She’s trying to adopt her,” Lewis said.

  Freddy felt bad for Lewis. Almost as bad as he felt for himself.

  “We living with my uncle now. I know he don’t want us there, at least he don’t want me there, but he let us in, because we got nowhere else to go after that motherfucker sold my house.”

  Lewis was looking at the dirt under one of his fingernails, as though none of what Freddy was saying made any difference.

  “I don’t know if you know, but Kia left me. She…” Freddy pressed a fist to his mouth, coughing to hide the emotion in his voice. “She aborted our baby. She killed my child, Lewis,” Freddy said, quickly turning away in his chair, wiping at his face. He turned back, another weak attempt at a smile on his face. “But I’m gonna get her back. You wait and see. And I’m gonna still start that real-estate company, you know what I’m saying? Ford and Waters Real Estate,” Freddy said, holding his hands up before him, as if holding the sign. “No, Waters and Ford Real Estate. That sounds better, don’t it?”

  “Your five minutes is up,” Lewis said, preparing to stand.

  “Wait! Hold it, Lewis!” Freddy begged into the phone.

  Lewis remained seated a moment longer.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I promise, Lewis. You my best friend. I never, ever meant this to hurt you like this. You got to believe me. He held my family over my head. What the fuck else was I supposed to do, man? What the fuck else?”

  Lewis stared into Freddy’s face but still did not speak a word.

  Freddy smeared the tears from his cheeks, and said earnestly, “But I’m gonna make this right, man. That motherfucker had me do this to you. He took away the only home I ever lived in, made me more of a disgrace to my moms, and had my girl leave me, made her kill my baby. Do you hear me, Lewis? I ain’t got shit to live for now, so that motherfucker is going to pay. I swear to God, on our friendship, on my moms and Kia’s lives—that motherfucker is going to pay. You believe me, Lewis? You believe me?”

  Lewis continued to stare at him, then after a second said, “Yeah. I believe you. Good-bye, Freddy.” Lewis hung up the phone, stood, and walked away.

  86

  The next evening, Nathaniel stood in the kitchen and asked, “How long, Mommy?” He was wearing his little apron, a baking mitt on one hand.

  Monica kneeled behind him, her arms around his waist, as they looked through the oven door at the chocolate chip cookies they had just slid in. “Ten minutes, and they are going to be sooooooo good, they’re gonna dance in your stomach. You know how that feels?”

  “No,” Nathaniel said, still eyeing the cookies.

  Monica turned the boy around and tickled his belly.

  “Mommy, Mommy, stop!” Nathaniel said, laughing and screaming, trying to push her hands down.

  “Okay, you two. No roughhousing in the kitchen while cookies are baking,” Nate said.

  “Or what?” Monica said, walking over to Nate and kissing him on the lips.

  After Lewis’s arrest, the police had come to Nate and Monica, asking if they wanted to press charges. They discussed it together, Nate telling Monica he would support whatever decision she came to. But after everything Lewis had done, she knew she had no choice.

  “I have to do it,” Monica had said, trying to hold back the tears she felt coming.

  Nate had put his arms around her, kissed her on the forehead. “Then it’s what we’ll do.”

  Nate had continued to urge Monica to move in with him and Nathaniel. Monica said she would give that thought as well, but after a week of being in her own home alone, without Lewis and without Layla, she decided she would try again with Nate.

  Now she had practically moved all her things out of her house and into Nate’s. Monica was just waiting on hers to sell.

  “If you guys don’t play right, I’ll eat up all the cookies,” Nate said, hugging Monica.

  They had discussed the idea of getting remarried and decided in favor of it. They had already set a date for the end of August.

  “No, Daddy!” Nathaniel said.

  “Daddy’s just joking, son,” Nate said, releasing Monica and hoisting his son up in his arms. “Even though she’s napping, Layla’s gonna want some when she wakes up.”

  “Well, I’m going to go get out of these work clothes and take a shower,” Monica said.

  “Need some help?” Nate whispered.

  “Don’t be bad in front of our son.”

  Nate swatted Monica softly on the behind as she turned.

  “I want to see the cookies, Daddy.”

  “Okay,” Nate said. He set Nathaniel down, grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, set it six feet away, facing the oven. “You sit right there and watch them, but don’t touch the oven. Okay.”

  Nathaniel happily sat down. “Okay.”

  “Can you see them?”

  “Yeah, Daddy.”

  Just then the doorbell rang.

  “Doorbell, honey,” Nate heard Monica call from the guest bedroom.

  “I got it, sweetheart.” He turned to his son. “Watch the cookies, okay? Make sure they cook perfectly while Daddy gets the door.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “Good boy,” Nate said, walking happily through the house to the front door.

  He glanced down at his watch to see that it was almost seven o’clock. He wasn’t expecting any company. When he opened the door, he was met with the barrel of a gun pointed into his face. Freddy Ford stood behind it.

  “Freddy,” Nate said coolly, not the slightest bit rattled. “Our business is done. I told you that.”

  “Step into the motherfucking house,” Freddy said, his voice low.

  “Freddy—”

  He cocked the gun, but Nate noticed that Freddy’s hand was trembling, the barrel of the gun wagging back and forth before him.

  “Fine,” Nate said, turning around, walking into the living room, trying to decide just how he’d get this man out of his house before Monica stepped out of the shower or Nathaniel came out from the kitchen.

  He would go ahead and offer Freddy the new townhome he had initially promised him. Yes, the boy did sing like a bird to Lewis, but everything had worked out. He had gotten Monica back, they were to be married, and Lewis was out of their lives. The boy did deserve something, Nate thought, knowing this would satisfy whatever obligation Freddy thought Nate had to him.

  Nate spun around, smiling, and said, “I tell you what I’m gonna do.”

  Then without provocation Freddy fired the gun, hitting Nate in the chest. Nate’s eyes ballooned as a tiny dark red hole appeared in his white shirt. Freddy fired again, shooting Nate in the belly. Then again and again, the gun sounding like a cannon in Nate’s ears. He was shot in the thigh, again in the chest, just below his right clavicle. Nate stumbled, gasped, choked, and looked down at his body, unable to believe what was happening.

  Just then Nate heard a loud scream.

  Nate turned to the sound, tried to yell, “Monica, no!” But the warning barely came out as a whisper. Nate saw Monica appear just outside the bedroom door, wearing a towel.

  Startled, seemingly without thought, Freddy blindly whipped the gun around and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet tearing into Monica’s forehead.

  Her towel fell to the floor, her naked body stood frozen a moment, then she dropped to her knees and finally fell flat on her belly.

  Still standing, Nate found one thought running through his head. My son. Then his bloodstained body fell back onto the sofa, his ey
es open, his arms to his side, his legs before him.

  Freddy looked at the damage he’d done. He was no longer shaking. He hadn’t meant to shoot the woman. It had been a reflex. She had screamed, then before he knew, she was on the floor. But it was over now, and he felt a strange calm fall over him.

  Freddy turned, about to walk out of the house, when he heard something behind him.

  “Mommy, Daddy,” he heard the slightest voice whimper.

  Freddy quickly spun, leveled his gun on the curly headed little boy.

  The child had tears in his eyes. He was standing beside his father now and tugging at the man’s bloody sleeve.

  Freddy held the gun on the boy, the weapon starting to shake again, Freddy feeling himself filling with fear once more. He applied pressure on the trigger, thought of how his child had been cut into pieces, sucked out of it’s mother’s womb. It was all because of Nate Kenny. Freddy rationalized an eye for an eye, a child for a child. It was only fair.

  He applied even more pressure to the trigger, saw an image of the gun going off, imagined the kick of the gun in his hand, the sight of the bullet tearing into the little boy’s neck, dropping him to die in his own blood. There was the slightest hesitation in him, but he urged himself on. He had killed his own father, surely he could take this boy’s life. Freddy swallowed hard, leveled the gun on the boy, who clung to his father’s bleeding body. “Do it, dammit!” he grunted.

  But he could not.

  He lowered the gun, shoved it into the back of his jeans, then turned and walked out the door, hearing the sound of the wailing boy as he fled.

  About the Author

  RM Johnson is the bestselling author of nine novels, including The Harris Men and The Million Dollar Divorce. He holds an MFA in creative writing from Chicago State University. He currently lives in Atlanta, where he is at work on the final installment of the Million Dollar series.