The Million Dollar Divorce Page 6

  Monica grabbed the phone as she was adjusting the water temperature.

  “Hello,” Monica said, trying not to get wet.

  “Monica, it’s Tim.”

  A smile came to Monica’s face. “Hey, Tim, what’s going on?”

  Tim didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything okay with you?”

  He knew something, Monica thought, turning off the shower water. In the almost four years she had known her very attentive, caring brother-in-law, she was always able to read him like an open book. Even when she could not see the expression on his face, she could tell what he was thinking.

  “You spoke to him. He told you about the argument,” Monica said.

  “Who else would he tell?” Tim said. “As always, I was just calling to make sure that you’re all right.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” she said, then paused, and thought for a moment. “Tim, we’ve had conversations just between the two of us that you’ve never told my husband about, right?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m about to do something that I think is right, and I really want to get your opinion.”

  “What is it?”

  Monica was about to go into the situation, but caught sight of her bedroom clock, and knew she was pressed for time.

  “What are you doing right now?” she asked Tim.

  “I was trying to write, but nothing’s really coming right now.”

  “Can you be ready to go with me in twenty minutes or so?”

  “I guess. Where we going?”

  “Just be ready, Tim. I’ll honk twice, and then I’ll tell you when we’re on our way.”

  It was four o’clock when Monica parked her car in the parking lot of the True Home Adoption Agency.

  She cut the engine off, then looked over at Tim, who had not unbuckled his seat belt yet, just gazed up at the building from his passenger window.

  “So you don’t think my brother should be the one sitting here, and not me?”

  “I told you, I’m not bringing home a baby today, we’re just coming to get some information. But you still haven’t told me if you think it’s a good idea or not.”

  Tim turned to Monica. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I think it’s a great one.” He smiled hesitantly. “But Nate is the one you should be concerned with.”

  12

  “So, I want to know, how much would I have to pay if I were to divorce my wife?” Nate asked.

  He had to consult his attorney regarding this matter. Getting divorced from his wife wasn’t something that he could just do based on the fact that she could not give him a family.

  Nate was worth way too much money to allow his emotions to make that type of decision for him, so he called his attorney, Jeremy Tolbert, to arrange for a consultation.

  Tolbert had been Nate’s attorney for the past ten years, since the first day Nate ever needed an attorney. He trusted the man like a father. He had handled all of Nate’s past legal matters, including matters regarding his marriage.

  “Over the phone you sounded like this was an emergency, but I didn’t think it would be this,” Jeremy said, appearing saddened by this discovery. “I’m so sorry. I really liked Monica. I thought things were going well between the two of you.”

  “Things aren’t always as they seem,” Nate said.

  Shaking his head, still seeming distraught by the news, Jeremy opened a file in the center of his desk and looked over some of Nate’s papers. He looked up and said, “The business, Nate. That was started after you were married, correct?”

  Nate bit down on the inside of his lip, knowing that would be the first question Jeremy would ask. “That’s correct,” Nate said, regretfully.

  “And giving me an estimate—roughly, how much do you think it’s worth?”

  “Sixty million or so, last time I checked.”

  Jeremy looked up at Nate. He breathed in deeply, then sighed.

  “Just right off the top of my head, Nate, I’ll tell you she’s going to be entitled to about half that.”

  “Thirty million dollars!” Nate said, shooting up from his chair. “That’s insane. There’s no way. There’s no way I’m going to give her half of everything I’m worth!”

  “Calm down. Having a fit won’t make things any better.”

  Nate sat back in his chair and tried to calm himself as best he could.

  “That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “There was no business before your wife,” Jeremy said. “Her attorney will argue that while you were busy at work, Monica was at home, cooking your food, washing your clothes, providing the type of environment that would allow you to succeed, all while working a job herself. She will argue that your wife’s efforts were vital to the success of your company, and with that argument, she will win.”

  Nate leaned forward in his chair, dropping his face into his hands. “And that’s it?” Nate said.

  “Well, there is one thing.”

  Nate quickly looked up.

  Jeremy pulled a sheet from the file, placed it in front of Nate.

  “This is your prenuptial agreement. You do remember having Monica sign this form, don’t you?”

  Nate nodded.

  “It states if your wife breaks this agreement by committing adultery, then she forfeits any money entitled to her if a normal divorce were filed.”

  “So what you’re saying is, if my wife cheats on me, then she gets nothing.”

  “Basically, yes.”

  Nate stood up from his chair, extending a hand to Jeremy.

  Mr. Tolbert stood as well, taking Nate’s hand and shaking.

  “Thanks, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “I didn’t think that it would. Monica’s a good woman,” Jeremy said. “But I’m obligated to bring that to your attention.”

  And there it was, Nate thought, standing just outside his attorney’s office. If he divorced Monica she would be entitled to half, and although, after what she did to him, she truly deserved to be divorced, he couldn’t do it. He would not reward her with millions of dollars of his money for lying to him.

  He would just have to think of another way out, or accept the fact that he would never have a family of his own. But until then, unless he wanted her to go out there and start talking to divorce attorneys herself, find out just how much she was truly entitled to, he knew he had better start treating his wife a hell of a lot better.

  13

  Another long day at the barbershop, and Lewis had cut only four heads. He had $60 in his pocket, and along with the forty-five from yesterday, he had a little over a hundred. His $200 chair rent was due at the end of next week. He’d probably have the money, but after he had paid that, he would have nothing to live on, and nothing to give Selena.

  He didn’t know if it even made sense, him going to work, spending eight to ten hours a day just to make enough so he could spend it on his stupid chair, in the stupid barbershop, that nobody wanted to sit in anyway.

  Lewis left the shop around six, telling himself it didn’t make sense to sit around another three hours, when he knew nothing would happen. Besides, this would give him time to go to the YMCA and work out all of the stress that had been building in him over the last few days.

  At the gym, he pulled off his T-shirt, slipped on some weight gloves, and worked out in his jeans and wife-beater tank top. He bench-pressed till his chest muscles were on fire, curled till his biceps felt as solid and heavy as cannonballs, and squatted till he was barely able to walk without wincing.

  By the time he drove home and walked into the apartment, he felt better.

  The front room was dark, but Lewis was immediately relieved when he saw a strip of light across the floor coming from the cracked bedroom door.

  He walked in the bedroom, then toward the bathroom door, heard the water going, and figured that Selena was taking a shower, something th
at he had to do when she was finished.

  Lewis set his bag of supplies down in a corner of the bedroom and saw that his daughter was standing herself up in the crib, both her fat little fists wrapped around the bars, helping to support her.

  “Whatcha doin’ over there? Hunh? Whatcha doin’?” Lewis said, baby-talking her, walking over there and lifting her out of the crib.

  Layla laughed and smiled in her father’s arms.

  “How you been today? Daddy missed you. Have you been feeling better?” Lewis placed his palm to her forehead, under her chubby chin, and on the side of her face. Her fever had gone down, and Lewis was thankful for that, because that meant no expensive pink stuff was needed, at least right now. But Lewis knew that time was just around the corner.

  Layla got sick quite often, and Lewis wasn’t absolutely sure, but he believed it had something to do with the fact that Selena had been doing those drugs. Yeah, she got clean when she found out that she was pregnant, but what Lewis didn’t know was, did she ever go back and use while she was carrying Layla? Or even if she didn’t, did the fact that she was ever on the drugs have something to do with lowering Layla’s resistance?

  Lewis really didn’t want to think about it, because when he did, it just made him so mad at Selena.

  If she would’ve told him that she was into that stuff when Lewis had first met her, he would’ve walked away from that situation that very moment.

  When she told him that she was pregnant, he was pretty certain that he didn’t want Selena to kill the child, but he didn’t know if he wanted to stick around to raise it.

  He had initially walked up to Selena because the girl was sexy, had a nice body, and he could see himself sliding up in that. He had never planned on being with the woman indefinitely, going through the crap he was going through with her, and especially hadn’t planned on fathering her child.

  There were times when Selena was walking around the apartment, her belly hanging out in front of her, and Lewis would be planning just how and when he would leave. He was trying to decide if he would tell her he was going—or would he just pack his things, and while she was sleeping, or at the store, take off and never come back?

  He thought seriously about that for a long time, till Selena finally gave birth to his daughter, and instantly, the second after he saw her face, Lewis felt more love for that little girl than he ever thought imaginable.

  After that, he had no choice whether he would stay or go. His daughter was here, so he would stay here. Regardless of how hard things got, how much he and Selena disagreed or argued, Lewis would be there for his little girl. But now, he started questioning things again.

  Lewis held his daughter in front of him, kissing her on her cheeks, then holding her higher and rubbing his nose into her bare belly. The baby cried out in laughter, kicking her little legs, and Lewis couldn’t help but laugh himself as he brought her back into his arms.

  Selena walked into the room barefoot, a towel wrapped around her still-wet body.

  “Can you take her?” Lewis said, holding out Layla toward Selena. “I want to jump in the shower too.”

  Selena took the baby.

  Lewis leaned down and kissed Selena on the lips. “How was your day?” he said.

  “Like every day,” Selena said, turning her back to Lewis and placing Layla back in her crib. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Lewis just stood there, wondering if he should feel offended by her dismissal of him, then decided to pay it no mind.

  He took his shower, a very hot one. One that relaxed his tightened muscles a great deal and allowed him, if only momentarily, to get his mind off what normally troubled him: bills, his job, the baby, what was going to happen with him and his woman.

  Lewis stepped into the bedroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips, beads of water still clinging to his heavily muscled arms and back. Selena lay in bed, the lights off, the TV playing something Lewis had never seen before.

  Selena lay on her back, naked, a pillow bunched behind her back, the bedsheet pulled just below her breasts.

  Lewis tossed his towel to a chair, lowered himself to the mattress on the floor, and slid under the sheet with Selena, pushing his body very close to hers.

  Selena’s eyes were lazily set on the TV, giving no attention to Lewis.

  Lewis rested his chin on Selena’s arm, then started kissing the outside of her left breast. He stuck his tongue out, touching it lightly against her nipple.

  Selena still ignored him.

  He moved closer to her, brushing his erection against her bare leg, taking her entire breast into his mouth and sucking it.

  “Stop, Lewis. I’m watching TV,” Selena said.

  Lewis ignored her, sucking her breast more, then moving down, baby-kissing her stomach, the crest of her pelvic bone, and then her inner thigh.

  He tried parting her legs, was planning on making her feel as good as she had ever felt, but she had stopped him.

  “What are you doing!” Selena said, seeming much more disturbed than Lewis thought she should’ve been.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Why? What’s the point?”

  “Ain’t no point. Just to do it.”

  “You ain’t even move Layla out the room.”

  “She’s sleep.”

  Selena looked in the direction of her child; the faintest sound of snoring could be heard from the crib.

  “I still don’t want to do nothing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we got bills due, Lewis. Medicine that you know we gonna have to buy one of these days, and I had to walk around the block twice today before walking in the house, just so I could avoid the damn landlord, ’cause you know he looking for the rent.” Selena looked at Lewis pathetically. “And you talking about having sex.”

  “It’ll give us something else to think about instead of bills all the damn time.”

  “That’s our problem. We don’t think about bills enough. You ever thought of that? You ain’t making no money at the barbershop. Maybe you need to find a second job.”

  “I’m there almost ten hours a day. What about you?”

  “I need to get a job too,” Selena said.

  “But you’d lose the welfare check.”

  “There’s something I could do that the government wouldn’t know about.” When Selena said this, she was looking very intently into Lewis’s eyes, as if she was trying to inform him of exactly what she was talking about without actually coming out and saying it.

  She was successful in that, because just by her tone, the look that said she didn’t want to do what she was suggesting, but she had to, Lewis knew exactly what she was talking about.

  Outside of the fact that Selena once was a heroin addict, there were other things that she chose not to tell Lewis until she felt he was ready to hear them.

  She was physically and sexually abused by her stepfather when she was a child. Her mother would not believe her, would not come to her rescue, so Selena ran away when she was sixteen. She made the money she needed by turning tricks, walking the streets at night, eyeing the drivers of slow-moving cars till they stopped and let her in.

  “Nothing those men did to me ever affected me,” Selena told Lewis the night she dropped this bomb on him, “because my stepfather took whatever feelings I had away from when I was fourteen years old.”

  That was how she survived then, how she had gotten pregnant five times, she had told Lewis. Some men had condoms, some didn’t. After a while, it didn’t really matter anymore. If she got knocked up, she’d go to the free clinic and get rid of it. And once she started using drugs, nothing really seemed to matter. She needed money, and selling her body was a sure, fast way to make it. It worked for her then, and Lewis could tell that she was talking about trying the same thing now.

  “I know you ain’t talking about going back on the street?”

  “I’d be careful. I’d carry condoms. I’d make sure that—”


  Lewis sprang from the bed. “I can’t believe you even talking this shit!” he practically yelled. “You’re talking about going out there and selling pussy!”

  “We need money, Lewis. How else we gonna get it?”

  “You got a child.”

  “That’s why I’d do it.”

  “You my woman.”

  Selena paused. “Really? When I told you I was pregnant, I could tell you was relieved just a little bit when I told you I was getting rid of it. Every day I was walking around here carrying that child, I could tell you was on the verge of leaving.”

  “But I stayed.”

  “For who? Layla,” Selena answered for him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Lewis thought of lying, but couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he remained silent.

  “Do you even love me? Do you even care? Or are you just here because it’s somewhere you can sleep?”

  “I care,” Lewis said, under his breath. “Care too much to let you go out there and do what you’re talking about. Just give me a little more time, and—”

  “We ain’t got a little more time.”

  “Just give me a few more days, and I’ll make some more money. I don’t care if I gotta force people to sit in my chair, I’m gonna take care of this. Can you wait?”

  Selena sighed heavily. “We’ll see, Lewis. We’ll see.”

  14

  At the adoption agency, things had gone even better than Monica had imagined they could’ve gone. They had sat in the waiting room only twenty minutes before a kind, middle-aged woman by the name of Mrs. Wolcott came out and introduced herself.

  “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Kenny?” the woman, wearing glasses and a flower print dress, asked.

  Monica laughed. “Yes, but no. This is Mr. Tim Kenny, but he’s not my husband, he’s my brother.”

  “Well, welcome, Mr. Tim Kenny,” Mrs. Wolcott said, shaking his hand. “Maybe if you like what we have to say, you’ll want to adopt a child as well. We have many of them here.”