The Million Dollar Demise

by RM Johnson

  “I want to thank you for letting me come. I apologize for my outburst in my office. I was just—”

  “No need for an apology. I was wrong, too,” Daphanie said, reaching for the bag. “What’s this?”

  Trevor handed her the bag with a smile. “Just a few things I picked up for the baby. Some pants and tops.”

  “You don’t even know the sex yet.”

  He smiled wider. “Whatever it is, I’ll take the other stuff back.”

  Daphanie pulled the garments out. There were two outfits, shirts and pants. One of which was pink, the other blue.

  “Thank you,” Daphanie said.

  “My pleasure,” Trevor said, folding the bag along its creases and tucking it under his arm. “You weren’t really serious about … you know, me not being in the baby’s life, were you?”

  Serious as hell then, Daphanie thought. But now she didn’t have to worry, considering in a few days there would no longer be any baby. Of course, she didn’t tell Trevor that.

  She just smiled in his face, and said, “No. I wasn’t serious. I was just emotional, you know.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “But I think there is reason for concern regarding your wife,” Daphanie said, setting the folded clothes on the coffee table. “How do you expect to handle that? I mean, what if she finds out? Do you even care?”

  A pained expression came to Trevor’s face. “Of course I care. I love my wife, but … but …” Trevor turned his back, took steps away from Daphanie.

  “But what, Trevor?”

  Turning again to her, he said, “What am I supposed to do? I’ve always wanted a child and she’s always known that. The only reason I don’t have one is because she doesn’t feel like committing the time. And she says I don’t know the stress it’ll put on her body. I told her I don’t give a fuck about stretch marks or a few extra pounds.” Trevor looked anguished. “This is something I want, and now I have a chance to have it. Really, what am I supposed to do?”

  “You tell me,” Daphanie said.

  “I’m not going to do what you said, sneak around, keep our child a secret. I don’t think I can do it now, so before it’s born, I’m just going to have to tell my wife.”

  “And what if she leaves you?”

  “I hope that she won’t,” Trevor said, pacing. “No. She won’t. I know her. She’ll accept our child. She will understand that since she wasn’t willing, I had to do what I had to do. She’ll welcome our child, love it like it is her own.”

  He’s fucking delusional, Daphanie thought, staring at Trevor. One, because he actually believes his wife would do what he’s thinking. And two, because he must think, if I really did have the baby, I’d go for that craziness. I’m not gonna go through all the tortuous crap that woman doesn’t want to, and allow her to enjoy all the upsides to motherhood. Hell, no!

  “That’s the plan?” Daphanie said, trying not to laugh.

  “Yeah,” Trevor said. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a start. Might need a little work, but it’s a start,” Daphanie said, walking over and giving Trevor a hug. “Thanks for the clothes.”

  “Thanks for being understanding, and keeping me in our baby’s life,” Trevor said, hugging her back.

  Daphanie walked Trevor to the door, a phony smile glued to her face. When she closed and locked the door behind him, she told herself she knew for sure now. There was no way in hell she was carrying this baby to term.

  29

  “I want Daddy,” Nathaniel said, looking away from another cartoon that played on the television before him. “When can I see my daddy?”

  “Soon enough, kid,” Freddy said. “Your Auntie Joni was nice enough to buy you that DVD. You need to be watching it,” Freddy said, leaning back into the cushions.

  He glanced at his wristwatch. It was approaching nine P.M. Joni walked into the room from the kitchen and saw Nathaniel yawning.

  “Awww,” she said. “The poor baby is sleepy.”

  She walked over to Nathaniel, scooped her hands under his arms, and lifted him up to her. “I’m gonna take him up to bed, okay?”

  “Good, he was starting to get on my nerves.”

  “Freddy! Don’t say that. You’ll hurt his feelings. Now get over here and apologize to him.”

  Freddy looked up, saw that the boy’s bottom lip was poked out.

  “Freddy,” Joni called again.

  Freddy got up, walked over. “Sorry, kid, okay?” he said, rubbing Nathaniel on the head. “Got a lot on my mind. Know what I mean?”

  “I’ll be back down in a minute,” Joni said. As she carried Nathaniel up the stairs, Freddy heard the boy say, “I don’t wanna go to bed.”

  “We’ll read you a bedtime story, and you’ll fall right off to sleep, baby,” Joni told him.

  When Freddy heard the old floorboards creaking over his head and was sure the two were upstairs, he grabbed the remote and flipped the channel from cartoons to CNN. He had been doing that since his arrival, trying to see if anything about the shooting had been aired. He sat there on the edge of the sofa for twenty minutes, but no news from Chicago. He was relieved, at least for the moment. When he heard Joni descending the stairs, he quickly switched to another channel. Joni sat and threw her arm behind him, across the spine of the couch, a huge smile on her face.

  “What you cheesin’ about?”

  “Nathaniel. He’s an angel.”

  “Yeah, he’s not a bad kid, I guess.”

  “I wanted one so badly,” Joni said softly. “I guess God didn’t think I was fit to—”

  “Stop it, Joni. You would’ve been a good mother. Just by the way you take care of Nathaniel, I can see that.”

  “Really. You think?”

  “I know.”

  Joni gave Freddy an appreciative peck on the lips.

  Caught off guard, Freddy just stared at Joni.

  She leaned in, kissed him slowly, fully on the lips now. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, sliding closer to him, when he gently pulled away.

  “No, don’t,” he said, as Joni tried to hang on to him.

  “Why not? You don’t want me ’cause I can’t give you kids? You still hung up on Kia?”

  “No. It’s just not the time. There’s too much going on.”

  “What, Freddy? You never told me, remember?”

  “I can’t.”

  “I see. You want me to understand what’s going on, you just don’t want to tell me.”

  Freddy sighed. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  A knock came at the door.

  Freddy jumped. “Who is that?” he whispered, his eyes wide.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s cool,” Joni said, getting up from the sofa and walking around the corner to the door.

  Freddy sat poised to act if he had to. Exactly what he’d do would be determined by who was at the door. He stood slowly, took a step in the door’s direction, wishing he had his gun on him.

  When the door was opened, Freddy heard a man’s voice say, “What’s up, girl? I got company, and I need to borrow your corkscrew.”

  “Hey, Billy,” Joni said.

  Freddy heard heavy footsteps move quickly toward him. He hurried back to the sofa and sat, trying to look normal.

  “Oh,” Joni’s friend Billy said, walking into the living room and seeing Freddy. “I didn’t know you had company.” He turned to Joni, looking somewhat embarrassed.

  Freddy clenched his teeth, felt his muscles tightening, not at the fact that there was another man in Joni’s house, but because that man wore a police officer’s uniform.

  “Hi, how you doing?” Billy said, stepping forward, extending a limp-wristed hand to Freddy.

  Freddy stood, took the man’s hand, and shook.

  “My name is Billy. I’m Joni’s neighbor.”

  “I’m … I’m John,” Freddy said.

  Billy was six feet tall or so. He looked to weigh over two hundred pounds. Freddy had him by an inch, but the man
had easily thirty or forty pounds on Freddy. He was clean-shaven, with black hair that was cut very short to his head. He was a decent-looking guy who couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Well, I’m not gonna interrupt whatever you two got going on,” Billy said, smiling at Joni. “Just came to borrow the corkscrew ’cause I got a little party of my own going on. So nice meeting you, John.”

  “You, too, Billy,” Freddy said.

  Billy walked quickly into the kitchen, like he had done it a thousand times before. While Billy rummaged through the kitchen drawers, Freddy stared narrow-eyed at Joni.

  Billy walked back into the living room, holding the corkscrew over his head. “Found it. Good night,” he said in a sing-songy voice.

  The front door was slammed shut. Joni opened her mouth to speak. Freddy lifted a finger to his lips, indicating to her not to say a word.

  He waited till he thought Billy was far out of earshot, then said, “Who the hell was that?”

  “That’s Billy, my friend.”

  “I can see that. Why didn’t you tell me you had a cop living right next door to you?”

  “It ain’t right next door. He’s fifty yards away at least. And how would I know it made a difference, since you ain’t telling me nothing?”

  “Don’t play games, Joni,” Freddy warned.

  “Besides, he’s not a cop. He’s just a mall security guard.”

  “He carry a gun?”

  “I said he’s a mall security guard. No.”

  Freddy felt himself calm down the slightest bit. “I’m going up to bed.”

  30

  Lewis sat downstairs in Uncle Henry’s living room, in the dark, leaning forward on the sofa, his face in his hands.

  It was ten P.M.

  This afternoon, Lewis had tried not to go off on the woman at the records office, but when he heard what she said, Lewis couldn’t help saying, “You trying to tell me that I ain’t the father? Is that what the fuck you trying to say?”

  “No, sir,” the woman said, slightly rattled. “I’m just saying that the mother put someone else’s name on the birth certificate.”

  Lewis raised his voice again, said a few curse words. Security was called, and Lewis was dragged out of there, yelling and kicking.

  Afterward, he hadn’t gone back to DCFS to see Eva. What would’ve been the point if Layla wasn’t really his?

  But that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, Lewis told himself. He wandered around the streets for the rest of the evening, trying to avoid doing what he knew he had to do now.

  Lewis picked his cell phone up from the coffee table.

  He flipped it open and the screen lit up a small space in the dark room. He scrolled down his contact list, punched a few buttons, pressed Call, then placed the phone to his ear.

  “Salesha,” Lewis said, when he heard Selena’s mother pick up.

  The last time Lewis had seen Salesha, and her other daughter Salonica, was not two months ago, when they came to Chicago from St. Louis trying to take custody of Layla. He couldn’t stand either of them, and they didn’t like him. They only decided to stop trying to gain custody when Lewis offered them money to leave town. That was the type of women they were.

  “Yeah, this Salesha. Who this?”

  “It’s Lewis.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “You ain’t getting that money back, Lewis, so don’t even—”

  “I ain’t calling for the money. I need for you to tell me something.”

  “Oh. Well, shoot,” Salesha said. “What you wanna know?”

  Lewis breathed deeply, exhaled. He closed his eyes, felt the phone shaking in his grasp. “Is Layla my daughter?”

  Again there was a moment of silence.

  “What you mean, Lewis?”

  “You heard what I asked you, Salesha. And don’t act like you don’t wanna hurt my feelings. Don’t lie to me. I need to know the truth.”

  “Lewis …”

  “Salesha, just answer the fucking question!” Lewis said, near tears. “Am I Layla’s father or not?”

  “There were other men,” Salesha said softly. “When you were with Selena, she told us there were always other men. And because of that, she ain’t know for sure who in the hell the father really was.”

  31

  Nate had been sitting by Monica’s bedside, holding her hand for the entire morning and most of the afternoon.

  Two hours ago, Dr. Beck had stepped into the room. Nate stood with less pain.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Kenny?”

  “Fine. I think you can take this IV out of my arm now. I’m tired of taking it everywhere I go.”

  “How’s the pain?”

  “Much more manageable. Almost completely gone,” he lied.

  “Do you want to go back to your room so I can take a look at your incisions, or are you fine here?”

  “This is fine,” Nate said.

  Dr. Beck lifted Nate’s gown and peeled back the bandage covering the incision on his thigh. “Someone changed your dressing this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s healing nicely,” Dr. Beck said. She looked at the other scars and had the same opinion. “Well, you’re recovering faster than we figured. You should be ready to get out of here in a few days.”

  “I guess. But what about my wife?”

  Dr. Beck walked around Monica’s bed. She placed her stethoscope into her ears, then placed the dome under Monica’s gown and on her chest. She listened for a moment, moved it slightly, then listened again.

  Dr. Beck pulled the stethoscope from her ears, pulled a small penlight from her lab coat pocket, leaned over, opened Monica’s eyelids, and shone the light in both eyes.

  “Well?” Nate said.

  “No change.”

  “Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”

  “Like I said before, Mr. Kenny, there’s no telling when she’ll wake up. But as you know, we are constantly monitoring her. If and when it happens, we’ll be right here.”

  An hour ago, Nate had tried to contact the detectives working his case. He called their office, and a female officer told Nate neither Davis or Martins was in. He could try them on their mobile phones if he liked.

  “I’ll do that, but I want you to take a message for them.”

  Nate left a message instructing them to call him ASAP, then dialed their cell phones. He got voice mail on both. He hung up the phone after leaving angry messages for both men. He then flipped to a local news channel, where a reporter stood holding a microphone in the face of Detective Martins.

  “Yes,” Martins said. “That’s right. The suspect’s name is Freddy Ford. There is a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information that leads to the arrest of this man.”

  The reward was Nate’s suggestion, his money, but obviously it was doing no good. Nate had turned to Monica, feeling helpless. He called his private investigator, told her to bring him some clothes. He had to do more to find Ford.

  A soft knock came at the door. Nate knew it was Abbey.

  “Come in,” he said, releasing Monica’s hand and standing.

  Abbey stepped in, wearing another dark suit. She held a garment bag draped over one arm.

  “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Hello, Abbey,” Nate said, taking his clothes. “I don’t want to do this, but I feel if I don’t force them, the police won’t do what they’re supposed to. I have to be out of here.”

  “I understand, Mr. Kenny.”

  “I’m going to my room to dress. I’ll speak to my doctor, and then we’ll leave,” Nate said. “I’ll need you to call Waters, let him know we need to talk to Freddy’s people.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if he offers any resistance, remind him of the deal we made regarding his daughter.”

  32

  Daphanie stood in the large storage room at Reese Pharmaceuticals, where all the drug samples each rep would dispense to doctors were kept. Considering she had to pack her
things and get the hell out in less than two weeks, she had no idea why she was still going through the motions of calling and visiting doctors. Maybe because she had plenty of vacation days and knew this was the last day she had to work before taking those days and leaving the job early. Daphanie had her shoulder bag with her, and the small wheeled cart she used to stack the sample cases, making it easier for her to transport them.

  The storage room was nothing but a series of shelves, stacked full with vials of this liquid drug, boxes of pills of that drug. There were capsules, topical creams, and ointments—drugs for every use imaginable.

  She wandered through the labyrinth of pharmaceuticals, looking for an osteoporosis drug.

  “Hey,” someone said from behind her.

  Startled, Daphanie spun around.

  “What’s up?” It was Parker.

  “Oh, just grabbing some Osteoflex samples for the visits I have to make today.”

  “Osteoflex is in the front of the room. Want me to help you load your cart?” Parker said.

  “Would you, please?” Daphanie said.

  “How many do you need?”

  “Um, three cases should do it,” Daphanie said. “You know what? Make it four.”

  Parker stacked the cases onto Daphanie’s cart, clapped the dust off his hands, and said, “So I’m really sorry about … you know.”

  “It’s not your fault, Parker. You gave me an out before this happened, I just didn’t take it,” Daphanie said, showing him a smile.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find something soon. You’re too good for someone not to scoop you up,” Parker said.

  He was turning to leave when Daphanie stopped him.

  “You know, I have some vacation days. I was thinking, instead of having them paid, I’d rather just take the days and leave early. That would make today my last day. What do you think?”

  “Awww,” Parker said, seeming sincerely disappointed.

  He walked back to Daphanie, giving her a friendly hug. “We’re going to miss you around here, but I completely understand. Just come by my office, and I can submit the paperwork for you.”