by RM Johnson
“Then why were you out at a club?” Tabatha asked.
“I told you, I have needs,” Monica said, a sly smile on her face.
“So you’re cool with fucking some guy, but nothing more than that?”
“That’s how they’ve been playing us forever. Why not do the same to them? From now on, at least for the meantime, I’ll only allow a man to play a physical role in my life, nothing else.”
“Then what about the attorney guy you told me about? You don’t think he’s gonna start talking about relationships?”
“I don’t know.”
“You might as well not even go out with him, then.”
“No. He’s cute. I at least want to hear what he has to say.”
“And you don’t think he’s going to start talking about kids?”
“Hopefully not,” Monica said. “Because if someone talks to me about another kid, I swear I’ll scream.”
“Yeah, right. You don’t mean that.”
“I’m telling you, girl.”
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Tabatha said.
The door opened, and in walked Lewis Waters. This was the man Nate had paid to seduce Monica so Nate could exploit the clause in their prenuptial agreement. Monica had slept with him, fallen in love with him. They had moved in together and had been very close to getting married before they found out their differences would’ve made their union a disaster.
Lewis was a muscular, dark-skinned man with thuggish model good looks. He was sharp today in his khaki pants, collared shirt, and fresh haircut. By his right hand, he led his four-year-old daughter, Layla. She was the child Monica had been so looking forward to mothering once she and Lewis were married. Monica now believed that Layla actually could have been the reason she was interested in Lewis in the first place, considering she couldn’t have children of her own.
“Hey,” Lewis said. “I hope I’m not stopping in at a bad time. Layla had been asking about you for a while, and I was driving by, so—”
Monica said nothing.
“No, no problem at all, Lewis,” Tabatha jumped in. She walked over, bent down, and gave Layla a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Layla.” Tabatha turned to Monica, smiling. “I’m gonna leave you guys alone so you can talk.” Before she closed the door, Tabatha said to Monica, “Start screaming, sista.”
“What did she mean by that?” Lewis said.
“Nothing,” Monica said, standing up from her desk. “Bring that little girl over here so I can say hi.”
Lewis released Layla. The child ran over to Monica and hugged her. Monica kissed Layla on the cheek.
“Good to see you, Lewis. You look well,” Monica said, which was true. He did look good. Fine as he ever did, but she could’ve lived without seeing him or the little girl. Monica still cared for Layla, but with all the pain the child had indirectly brought her, she thought she might have been able to go the rest of her life without ever seeing her again. It was a chapter in her life she had long been over.
“Thanks. Just trying to keep things in order, stay working. You know,” Lewis said.
“Oh, you found a job?”
“Yeah.” Lewis smiled proudly. “I work down at the DCFS building in the records room. It don’t pay a whole lot, but it’s a city job, and it has full benefits, so it’s cool.”
“I’m glad,” Monica said, walking Layla back over to her father. “I wish I had more time, but since I didn’t know you were coming …”
“No. I understand. Like I said, she was just asking about you.”
“Okay,” Monica said, walking Lewis and Layla to the door.
Lewis stood before Monica a moment, holding his daughter’s hand. He leaned in to give Monica a kiss on the cheek. The look in his eyes said he missed her. “Well, it’s been good seeing you.”
Monica took the kiss Lewis gave her, then held him by the shoulders a moment longer. Her lips close to Lewis’s ear, she said, “I’ve been through a lot, and I finally believe I’m moving on, so please, don’t ever bring that child to see me again.”
34
At 10:30 a.m., Austin again looked over the copy of Daphanie’s contract as he sat in the reception area outside Mr. Kenny’s office. When he was finished, Austin placed the contract in his briefcase. As he feared, it was airtight. Daphanie Coleman signed every single, solitary right she had as a mother over to the father, Trevor Morgan. She didn’t even have the right to visit the baby without first notifying Trevor, and it would be his decision whether to allow a visit.
What kind of beast was this Nate Kenny? Austin thought. He had been going to marry Daphanie, which led Austin to believe he had to have once loved her. But if he had feelings for her, why would he knowingly cause her so much pain?
Yes, Daphanie had told Austin she had lied to Nate. Billions of women have lied to men about the same thing. Were they forced to sacrifice their child in repentance?
“Mr. Harris,” the secretary said, “Mr. Kenny will see you now.”
When Austin stepped into the huge office with the breathtaking view of downtown Chicago, he saw a tall, handsome man, about Austin’s height, walking around his desk. He wore an impeccable, tailor-made gray suit. Austin had a similar one in his closet. Nate Kenny was smiling, holding out his hand.
Austin took it and shook.
“Mr. Harris, pleasure to meet you,” Nate said. “My name is Nate Kenny. What can I do for you today?”
“Good to meet you too, Mr. Kenny.”
“No, please, call me Nate, and have a seat. I only have a few minutes, but you will receive one hundred percent of my attention,” Nate said, walking back around his massive oak desk.
“I would rather call you Mr. Kenny.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Daphanie Coleman retained me as her attorney regarding the situation involving her baby,” Austin said, setting his briefcase on his lap and opening it.
“Okay.”
Austin took the contract out and passed it over to Nate. “I want to know if you’ve seen this contract before.”
Nate took just a second to look it over, passed it back, and said, “Yes. I had one of my attorneys here draw it up. Do you have a question about it?”
Austin sat in near shock at how cavalier the man seemed. “Are you aware that this contract strips all rights from Ms. Coleman as they relate to her baby?”
Nate laughed, as though he had been asked a trick question. “Yes. I told you. I had it drawn up, and I checked it three times personally to make sure the language was exactly the way I wanted it.”
Austin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You seem proud of what you’ve done.”
“I am,” Nate said, sitting up in his chair. “There was an objective and I met it, quite successfully. What is there not to be proud of?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kenny, if I seem … I don’t know, taken aback by how callous and unsympathetic you appear by what you’ve done to this woman, but please, if you would tell me, why did you do it?”
“That woman lied to me. She knew the most important thing in the world to me was having a baby. She told me Mr. Morgan’s baby was mine. She tried to steal that infant away from its biological father in order to marry me. That was unconscionable, and criminal. A woman who is willing to take a child from its father should have that child taken away from her. So that’s what I had done.”
“But who are you to determine that? You’re related to neither of them, and you aren’t the law.”
“I have power,” Nate said, leaning back in his chair. “And powerful men can often impose their own law.”
“What you did was wrong.”
“What you think doesn’t matter, because there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it, is there?”
Austin didn’t answer right away but took a couple of moments to think. “No,” he said, standing. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t even know why I came here. The damage you’ve orchestrated has already been done. It’s not as tho
ugh you even have the authority to affect the outcome either way if you wanted to. You are now outside the equation. Powerless. And something tells me that bothers you.”
“Not at all,” Nate said. “I’ve been sleeping soundly from the day Daphanie signed that contract. You’re the one tasked with the impossible challenge of getting that calculating bitch’s baby back.” Nate stood up from his desk, extended his hand out to Austin. “Good day, Mr. Harris.”
35
Hi, Tricia,” Daphanie said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. She was nervous that Nate had notified the day care center where he had always taken his son, Nathaniel, that she was no longer involved with Nate—that her name should be taken off the list of people authorized to pick up Nathaniel at the end of the day.
“Hi, Daphanie,” Tricia, a redhead with light pink freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, I know. How you been?” Daphanie glanced down at her watch, then over her shoulder. She had more to be concerned with than just her name no longer being on the pickup list. She knew little Nathaniel’s nanny, whoever that now was, would be along any minute to pick him up. If that happened while she was standing there, there could be trouble. They might try to hold her, call the police when the nanny told them Daphanie had no business trying to pick up the boy.
“Been good. One day at a time, you know,” Tricia said. “Here to pick up little Nathaniel?”
“Yup. Would you go get the little guy, please?” Daphanie asked, thinking either Nate hadn’t thought to change her status, or Tricia was being negligent and didn’t check the updated list. Either way, Tricia pushed through a swinging, brightly painted door, to the kid’s playroom, to retrieve little Nathaniel.
36
Hello, this is Monica.”
“Hello,” Austin said, leaning back in his office chair. He had finally dug up the nerve to call her. “This is Austin Harris. You know, the attorney—”
“Yes, I remember. How are you?”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Austin said, feeling foolish about the huge smile that was on his face.
“Really.”
“Yes. And they’ve been good thoughts.”
“As opposed to the bad ones I thought you were having.” Monica laughed.
“Have you been thinking about me?”
Monica laughed again. “Well, you’re going to have to figure that one out on your own, Mr. Harris.”
“Okay, but I’ll need some face-to-face time to do that. You’re going to have to let me take you out to a cozy spot I know.”
“I can do that.”
“Tomorrow night. Bijan’s on State Street, eight thirty p.m.”
“I think I can manage that.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” Austin hung up the phone. He felt energized and boyish as he sat there, but only for a moment, as thoughts of last night—when Marcus appeared at his house after being kicked out of his own—crept back into his head.
Austin had fixed his brother up with a room across the hall from his. He knew Marcus wasn’t crazy about being there, but Austin kind of liked it. Having all the brothers under the same roof reminded him of back when they were kids, when their parents were still alive.
Last night, Austin had looked in to check on Marcus before calling it a night.
Marcus was sitting up in bed, staring off into his thoughts.
Austin knocked on the frame of the door. “You okay in there?”
“What if it’s not just about me not finding work?” Marcus asked.
“What do you mean?” Austin said, stepping into the room.
Concern on his face, Marcus said, “What if … what if Reecie kicked me out because there’s someone else?”
That memory forced Austin back to the present. He stepped out of his office to Reecie’s desk. “Order up a nice bouquet of fresh flowers. A big one, a couple of hundred dollars’ worth.”
Reecie looked up at Austin, a single eyebrow raised. “And send them where?”
“To Monica Rodgers. She came in here a couple of days ago, and—”
“I know who she is,” Reecie said, smiling, as she pulled up the online florist on her computer.
Austin continued to stand over the desk, his arms crossed.
Reecie looked up again. “What?”
“You tell me what. What’s going on with you and Marcus?”
Reecie sighed loudly. “Why did he go bringing you into this? You’re my boss.”
“I’m also your brother-in-law and his brother. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“He refuses to work, Austin. And I just got tired of it,” Reecie said. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Really?” Reecie said, surprised.
“I understand. He has a family. He has to do what he has to do. I told him that,” Austin said. “But that’s all it is, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your husband and I are sleeping across the hall from each other like we did when we were kids, because you’re tired of him refusing to work, and that’s all, right?”
Reecie looked at Austin as though she didn’t appreciate what he was suggesting. “Yeah, that’s all.”
“Good. You guys will be just fine.” Austin smiled. “And take care of those flowers now, okay? I want her to have them as soon as possible.”
37
His janitor’s supply closet open, Caleb pulled out the supplies he was going to use this evening. He was troubled because he had asked Sonya if they could talk again about them getting back together, and she had said no. He knew if she continued to turn him down, he would have to be more aggressive in letting her know he needed to come back home.
Caleb pulled a broom and a mop from the closet and stood them against the wall when his cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Harris, this is Detective Currie. We met yesterday.”
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“I’m calling to see if your son told you any more about what happened.”
“He hasn’t. Jahlil said he doesn’t know.”
“Can you ask him again? Couldn’t he be lying?”
“He wouldn’t lie about something like this,” Caleb said, telling a lie himself in defense of his son. Caleb would find out in due time, he told himself as he stood in the hallway, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one heard his conversation.
“Detective Currie, if and when my son tells me what happened, I promise I will call and let you know. But right now, I’m at work, so I have to go.” Caleb hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. When he turned around, he was startled by the man standing across the hall.
“Sorry,” the man said. He was younger than Caleb, well built, and he wore khakis, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tie that hung loose around the opened collar.
“Naw, you all right. I’m just used to being the only one around here at closing time.”
“You’re a little early today, right?”
“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Caleb said.
The man took a couple of steps toward Caleb and held out his hand. “Lewis Waters. I work in the file room.”
“Caleb Harris,” Caleb said, shaking. “Guess you know what I do.” Caleb waved the handle of his mop.
“Yeah,” Lewis said. He hesitated a moment. “Everything all right with your son? Sorry. My door was open, and I overheard your conversation.”
The man was a practical stranger, but upon first look, he seemed like a fairly decent guy, so Caleb figured he was cool to talk to. “You know boys. You gotta stay on them.”
“I got a little girl, myself.”
“I wish.” Caleb laughed. “Jahlil, my son, is sixteen.”
“So he thinks he’s grown, don’t have to listen to a thing you say, right?”
“Sounds just like him.”
“I was him. The stuff I got into, not going to school, running with gangs. Th
at was me, all right.”
Caleb looked the man over again. “If you don’t mind me saying, you seem like you’re doing okay now. How did you turn things around?”
“Lucky,” Lewis said. “I ran into the right people. I didn’t even want it to happen, but I was thrown in a situation with people who had more than me, who were successful. I saw that the way I was doing it wasn’t the best way.”
Caleb told himself it was his fault his son was surrounded by nothing but down-on-their-luck fools like himself. He wasn’t sure how that would ever change.
“But I wouldn’t worry, everything’s gonna be cool for your son. You seem like a good guy,” Lewis said. “If I can be here, after living in the Ida B. Wells projects just three years ago—”
“You lived over in Ida B.?” Caleb said, reaching out his hand to give Lewis another, more friendly shake. “I live just a few blocks from there, off Cottage Grove.”
“Then we were neighbors and didn’t even know it,” Lewis said, shaking again, more energetically. “Who knows, I probably seen your boy around before and didn’t even know it.”
“I’m sure you have,” Caleb said, smiling at the coincidence.
“Look,” Lewis said, sounding uncertain. “You don’t know me, but I think I know exactly who your son is and what he’s going through. Like I said, when I was his age, I was doing the same things. You never know, I might be able to help some way.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Caleb said.
“I see our boys out there on the streets. They need all the guidance they can get. Maybe one of these days you can bring him to work with you. He and I can hang out, or do something. Not saying you ain’t doing a good job yourself, but I’m a little closer to his age, and more important, I’m not his father. I don’t know, maybe he’ll tell me some things he’s been afraid to tell you.” Lewis paused, waiting for the answer. After a moment he said, “I mean, but if you think it’s a bad idea, I—”
“No, no. I think it’s a good idea. He does need to be around positive influences. I just … I mean, I can trust you with my kid, though, right?”