Deceit and Devotion

by RM Johnson

  Trace had been beautiful when Austin married her, and she remained that way. Her hair was sandy brown and cut shoulder-length. She had gained a few pounds since their divorce but still kept a nice shape, Austin thought as he followed her into the kitchen. He had been a fool to let her go.

  Trace set the glasses down on the counter and turned to face Austin. “Why are you so late?”

  “I had to get Troy’s gift. Anyway, I know he doesn’t want me here. I’m not going to stay.”

  “Austin, it can’t just go on like this.”

  “You think this is what I want? I’m trying to reach out to the boy, but—”

  “Over four years of neglect won’t just go away like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought he had John. Every time I wanted to do something with the kids, you said they were doing something with him.”

  “That happened three times.”

  “Three times was enough to push me away.”

  “It wasn’t the kids’ fault,” Trace said.

  “I know that now.”

  “Then it’s time to fix it.”

  Austin sighed. “I’m going back outside. Tell Troy to come out so I can give him his present and we can speak alone.”

  “Austin, you really should stay.”

  “Just tell him, please?”

  “Yeah.”

  Austin stepped out of the kitchen and made his way out to the front yard.

  Two minutes later, Troy stepped out. He walked down the path and stopped five feet short of his father. Austin admired him. Although Austin constantly called, making attempts to hang out with Troy, the boy always turned him down. It had been over three months since he had seen his son. He was growing into a fine-looking young man.

  “Happy birthday, son,” Austin said, reaching out to hug him.

  Troy stepped back. “Thank you.”

  Austin nervously combed his fingers through his hair. “You know, about me not being around …”

  “I don’t want to talk about that. Mom said you wanted me to come out here so you could give me a gift.”

  “Yeah. I did,” Austin said, handing Troy the envelope.

  Troy pulled out the card and read the store-bought message and his father’s signature. There was a folded form in the card, which Troy opened. “What’s this?”

  “What does it look like?” Austin said, happily. “It’s the title to a car.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Austin pointed to the car he had driven himself over in, the car he had spent most of the day looking for—the car he had bought his son. “It’s a 1983 Mercedes C230. It’s in mint condition. And it only has sixty-five thousand original miles on it.” Austin was smiling wide as he held out the key to Troy.

  “I don’t want it.”

  “I looked all over the place for that car. It’s perfect. What do you mean—”

  “I said I don’t want it. I know you’re trying, but just because you buy me a car, doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive you.” Troy held out the car title to Austin. Austin took it from his son’s hand. “I know one day I probably can, Dad. That day just isn’t today.” He turned and headed back up to the house.

  Austin slid his hands into his pockets and looked up to the sky.

  A moment later, he felt Trace standing beside him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’ll take some time. But it’ll happen. Long as you don’t go anywhere.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere,” Austin said, still looking up at the darkening sky. “I never should’ve gone anywhere. I never should’ve left you, Trace.”

  “Austin, stop.”

  He turned to her. “I mean it. Do you love John?”

  “Of course I do, and it’s too late for us. So just stop. Just make an effort, you’ll find someone. You’re a great guy.”

  “You mean that?” Austin smiled, placing a friendly arm around Trace’s shoulder.

  She wrapped an arm around his waist. “I do.”

  “We had some not-so-bad times as husband and wife, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And we have two beautiful kids to show for it. We’ll always have that together, no matter what?”

  “We will,” Trace said.

  Austin stood in front of his ex-wife and gave her the car title. “Keep this. Tell Troy I bought it not trying to win him back but because he’s a great son and he deserves it. Besides, I know my son well enough to know that as soon as he gets his license, he’s going to want to drive that thing.”

  “I think you’re right,” Trace smiled.

  Austin gave Trace a peck on the cheek and said, “Now you need to get back to your party before our son misses you. I’m gonna call a cab home.”

  “Are you sure? I can drive you back.”

  “I’m fine. Go,” Austin said, pulling out his cell phone. He was about to dial the number for information when he felt Trace touch his arm again.

  “I don’t know if it matters or not. I just didn’t want you finding out from anyone but me.”

  “Finding out what?”

  “I’m pregnant. John and I are going to have a baby.”

  Austin tried his best to smile. He stared speechless at Trace and thought, At forty-one, you’re a little old for that, but said, “Congratulations. I’m very happy for the both of you.”

  15

  Caleb was emptying the wastebasket beside Austin’s desk when he heard someone enter the main office of the law firm. He knew it was Jahlil.

  Caleb set down the basket and the plastic bag and walked out of the office.

  By the front reception area, Caleb saw his son walking toward him, his head down, his hood pulled up, casting shadows on his face.

  “Jahlil,” Caleb said.

  Jahlil stopped, looked up, pulling the hood down off his head. He looked guilty of something. “Yeah.”

  “Where you been?”

  “Around.”

  “I called you half a dozen times,” Caleb said. “And left you at least three messages. Why didn’t you return them?”

  Jahlil paused. “I don’t know.”

  “What you mean, you don’t know?” Caleb said, taking a few steps toward the boy. He was trying to remain calm.

  “I don’t know. I was doin’ stuff.”

  “Your mother and I went up to your school, talked to your principal today. He told us what’s going on. So this stuff you’re doing, is it the same stuff keepin’ you from going to your classes? That’s keepin’ you out of school?”

  “Yeah, that stuff,” Jahlil said, under his breath.

  “What you say to me?” Caleb said, hurrying over, standing now just a foot in front of his son, doing everything in his power not to snatch the boy up and give him a good shaking. “This is a damn joke to you?”

  “No. That’s why I’m missing school, ’cause I got more important things to do than to be there wasting my time.”

  “You’re sixteen years old. What the hell in your life right now is more important than school?”

  Jahlil looked away and didn’t answer.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy! What is more important?”

  Jahlil looked his father in the eyes. “Nothin’.”

  “You damn right nothin’,” Caleb said, backing away, calming some. “Son, don’t you understand? School is everything. It’s what’s gonna give you a good future. You see the difference between your uncles Marcus’s and Austin’s lives and mine. They went to school and I didn’t. Uncle Austin owns this office, and I’m cleaning it.” Caleb looked at Jahlil, thinking he was actually starting to get through to him. “That’s why I’m telling you these things. I’m trying to help you. It’s why I started this business, why I have you come up here a couple of nights a week, because I want you to learn the ropes. Then one day, when you finish high school, and maybe go to college, you’ll be able to come back and—”

  Jahlil laughed.

  “What?”

  Jahlil chuckled a li
ttle more. “You ain’t about to say what I think, are you? When I’m done with school, I can come back here and take over your little cleaning business. You a trip, ol’ man,” Jahlil said, a defiant smirk on his face.

  Caleb couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was so frozen with surprise that all he could do was continue to stand there and listen.

  “You acting like you imparting some sacred fatherly wisdom on me, when you’ve been gone almost a third of my life. You been in and out of prison, in and out of work, lying around the house, worthless.”

  “Son,” Caleb said, through clenched teeth. “You better watch what you say to me.”

  “Can’t keep a job someone give you, so you got to make your own. The only reason you in business is because Uncle Austin let you clean up his trash, and you comparing ya’ll like there’s actually something to compare.”

  “Jahlil, boy …” Caleb said, clenching his fists now, caution in his voice. But he didn’t think his son heard him, because he kept on talking.

  “And you talk about me coming back, taking this over. I would never, ever do that. Because I’m never, ever gonna be like you. It’s the reason why Ma kicked you out, because she no longer saw you as a man.”

  Before Jahlil could say another word, Caleb had charged him, had him pinned against the wall, one fist wrapped around the boy’s throat, the other held back behind Caleb’s head, shaking, as though forcing himself not to throw it.

  Jahlil’s eyes bulged with fear. Caleb’s were near tears with fury. He stared at his son, breathing hard, his fist still suspended at the release point of a punch. “I know my life is shit! I don’t need you telling me that. I know things ain’t right with me and your mother, but I’m gonna fix that, I swear. And I’m sorry that I left you, sorry that I went away to jail,” Caleb said, a tear falling from his eye. “But I did it trying to provide for you and your mother. Just like today. Everything I do is for you. I don’t want you living this life. I would give my own life for you not to go through what I have. You understand that?”

  Jahlil didn’t answer, but tears were now in his eyes. He looked hurt, frightened, and he stared at his father as though he were a stranger.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said, finally realizing what his son must’ve been thinking. He quickly lowered his fist and released his son.

  Jahlil glared up at him with a hate Caleb had never seen his son display. Jahlil wiped the tears from his face, turned, and hurried in the direction he had come.

  “Jahlil, I’m sorry,” Caleb said.

  The boy ran and disappeared around a corner.

  “I said I’m sorry!” Caleb yelled.

  16

  After a few drinks, Austin found himself parked down the street from Cindy’s house. He sat slumped low in his car seat, waiting for her voice-mail recording to finish so he could leave his third message.

  The beep sounded, and Austin said, “I’m outside your house. I want to talk to you when he leaves.”

  He hung up the phone and tossed it to the passenger seat, eyeing the Dodge Charger that sat in Cindy’s driveway. Her fiancé was obviously visiting. Austin didn’t care. Hearing that his son didn’t forgive him, realizing that his ex-wife truly did not have any desire to get back together, and then hearing the news of her one day soon giving birth to another man’s child had Austin needing to talk to someone.

  He slid lower in his seat when he saw Cindy’s porch light come on. The fiancé backed out the door, and Austin saw a glimpse of Cindy in her bathrobe. The man leaned back in, kissed Cindy on the lips. Austin felt a twinge of jealousy.

  The fiancé trotted down the stairs to his car, jumped in, backed out the driveway, and drove off.

  Austin was out of his car. Standing, he felt slightly wobbly from the drinks. He steadied himself and walked over to the house.

  The front door was left open. Cindy was expecting him. Austin closed the door behind him and looked around. “Cindy,” he called.

  “Upstairs, in the bedroom.”

  Entering the room, Austin watched as Cindy made up her bed.

  “You got my messages?”

  “Yeah,” she said, fluffing a pillow.

  “I’m sorry. I had to talk to you.”

  Cindy sat on the edge of the made bed. “So talk.”

  Austin sat beside her and took her hands. “I want more. You told me you two still haven’t set a date. You can break your engagement, and we can—”

  “Austin, you’ve been drinking. I can smell it on your breath.”

  He released her hands. “This has nothing to do with my drinking. I’m at a point in my life where I want something more, and I’ve been seeing you long enough to know that I want it with you. You said that you wished you had met me first.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “He’s out of work. He can’t even take care of you.”

  “I’m taking care of the both of us right now,” Cindy said.

  “Obviously you’re not. I’m giving you money.”

  Cindy was quiet, taking the remark like a slap across the face. “I’m with him, and I’m going to stay with him.”

  Austin shook his head, looking around the room. “So you’re fine with never seeing me again?”

  “I didn’t say that. I like what we have. I don’t want it to stop. At least not now.”

  Austin chuckled under his breath. “I see. I’m good enough to get with, but not good enough to be with.”

  “You’re thinking too much into it,” Cindy said, starting to unbutton Austin’s shirt.

  He thought of letting it happen; he could use her comfort right now. But he grabbed Cindy’s hands and stopped her. “No. I said I want more, but if you don’t want to give it to me, I guess I’m just going to have to get it from somewhere else.”

  17

  In her dark bedroom, Daphanie sat by the window, looking out onto the street. Against her cheek, she rubbed a small white blanket. It was the only thing she had left of her child. The nurses had wrapped her baby in it after he had been delivered.

  How could she have been such a fool to have let Nate trick her into giving away her own child?

  Daphanie pressed the blanket to her nose, telling herself that she could still smell the child’s pure scent, though it had been weeks since the cloth touched his skin.

  She had made a fool of herself today. She would never get her baby back like that. She would have to be smarter.

  She had looked over the contract several times. There were terms and phrases that she could not fully understand. She wasn’t a lawyer, but she just knew there was no way the law would keep her from her child.

  Daphanie walked through the dark room to her nightstand and grabbed her cell phone.

  The day of the wedding, while she had waited in that back room like a damn fool for Nate, a woman had knocked on the door and entered. It was Nate’s ex-wife, Monica, the woman who had been shot and had fallen into a coma.

  Daphanie had seen her in the hospital, near death, tubes running in and out of her, half her head shaved. But when Monica walked in that back room on Daphanie’s wedding day, she looked much better, beautiful even, and Daphanie could tell why Nate had married her.

  Monica told Daphanie that Nate wasn’t going to show, that intricate scams were what he was known for, and that the fake wedding was right up his alley.

  Daphanie had told Monica everything she had given up for the chance to marry Nate. Monica shook her head, a knowing expression on her face, as if she had been used by him in a similar way. She told Daphanie she didn’t know if there was anything that could’ve been done. Appearing sympathetic to Daphanie’s situation, despite the fact that Daphanie had tried to lure Nate away from Monica, she dug through her purse, pulled out a business card, and held it out to Daphanie. “I hear he’s a good attorney,” Monica said. “You might want to give him a call.”

  Now, Daphanie called Monica.

  “Hello,” a voice answered, sounding groggy. Only now did Daphanie notice tha
t the clock on her nightstand read 11:27 p.m.

  “I’m sorry. Monica?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is Daphanie Coleman … you know the—”

  “Yeah, I know who this is.”

  “If I’m waking you up, I can—”

  “No. I was having a nightmare. What do you want?”

  “That day … my wedding day, you gave me the business card of that attorney. You said that I should give him a call.”

  Monica didn’t respond.

  “Monica?”

  “I’m here.”

  “You remember telling me that?” Daphanie asked.

  “Yeah. Did you call him?”

  Now Daphanie didn’t respond.

  “Are you there?” Monica said, attitude in her voice now.

  “I haven’t called. This feels like my last chance and I need him to take my case. You said you know him. Can you go with me, make sure he does?”

  “I don’t know him. I said I heard he was good, but I don’t know him.”

  “Still, that’s more than I have going for me. Can you go with me?”

  “Daphanie, look, considering—”

  “I know I was wrong for coming after your husband like that while you were in the hospital, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But I have no one to turn to,” Daphanie said, helpless. “Nate stole my baby from me.”

  “You gave your baby away is the way I understand it.”

  Daphanie exhaled, trying to remain calm. She told herself she needed this woman’s help. “You said scams were Nate’s thing. You were married to him. I’m sure he’s gotten you once or twice. Monica, please.” Daphanie heard Monica sigh heavily on the other end of the phone.

  “You don’t deserve my help,” Monica said.

  “I know, but I need it.”

  There was another long pause from Monica’s end. Finally, “Do you know where AERO is on Michigan Avenue?”

  “I can find it.”

  “Meet me there tomorrow morning at nine.”

  “Thank you, Monica,” Daphanie said, only then realizing that Monica had hung up.