The Million Dollar Demise

by RM Johnson

  He thought he remembered a fuzzy image of Joni standing over him, Nathaniel in her arms, saying something about going to the mall. Freddy took the stairs down to the first floor and crept over to the front door. He pushed the curtain back and peered out the corner of the window. Billy, the gay security guard, was knocking again, the corkscrew in his fist.

  Freddy pulled open the door. “What’s up, man?”

  Billy looked surprised to see Freddy. “Oh, Joni’s not home? I just wanted to thank her again for the …” He held up the corkscrew and waved it.

  “Okay, I’ll tell her,” Freddy said, reaching for the corkscrew.

  Billy handed it over, then acted surprised after taking another look at Freddy. “New look, hunh?”

  “What are you talking about?” Freddy said, his patience with the man growing short.

  “Your hair. Presto-chango! All gone. Why the move to smooth and sexy?”

  Why all the fucking questions? Freddy wanted to say.

  “Just got tired of it,” he said instead. “I’ll tell Joni you stopped by.”

  Freddy closed the door. Then he stood there, staring at the corkscrew. He felt odd about the exchange.

  No, he thought, he and Joni definitely could not stay.

  57

  At home, Daphanie had been watching television when the phone rang. It was Nate, asking if she’d come over. He had been doing some serious thinking and he had to talk to her.

  After arriving at his house, Daphanie found herself changing the dressings on Nate’s wounds.

  “When was the last time you had this done? You should’ve asked me before now.”

  “I keep forgetting that you were a nurse,” Nate said, as Daphanie applied tape to the bandage that covered his abdominal wound.

  “Yup, and it comes in handy every so often.”

  “How much do I owe you?” Nate asked, trying to make light humor, even though Daphanie knew he was troubled.

  “Not a dime. You’re actually healing really well. Whoever the surgeon was did a nice job.” Daphanie stuck the last piece of tape over the bandage. “There. You can put your shirt back on now.”

  Nate took his shirt from the hook on the bathroom door, pulled it on, and buttoned it up, leaving the tails hanging out over his slacks. He closed his eyes, then stood there by the door, not moving.

  “Nate?” Daphanie said, getting concerned. “You okay?”

  “You hear that?”

  Daphanie listened, but heard nothing. “No. I don’t hear anything.”

  Nate opened his eyes. “I know. There’s nothing but silence here. I’ve lived this all my life. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  “What are you talking about, Nate?”

  “I hate to say this, but Monica has gotten worse. Sometimes I don’t think she’s going to—”

  “Stop it, Nate! Don’t say that.”

  “No. If it happens, I’m going to have to face it.”

  Daphanie didn’t respond. She had only offered her last reply so it wouldn’t seem that she actually would prefer it if Monica didn’t survive. And no, it wasn’t like she wished for Monica to die to get Nate back. But the damage was already done. And if there was a choice, Daphanie would choose Monica never coming out of that coma.

  “I guess you’re right,” Daphanie said softly.

  She walked over, placed a hand to Nate’s chest.

  “And we’re still no closer to finding my son. Daphanie,” Nate said, looking sadly at her. “If Nathaniel were alive, wouldn’t I know it? Feel it? I’m his father, for God’s sake.”

  “Nate, you’re beating yourself up too badly. Everything might turn out just fine.”

  “But what if it doesn’t?” Nate shook his head, exasperated. “You are pregnant, right?”

  “Yes, Nate. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “I don’t want to be by myself again. I’ve always told you how much I wanted to have a child.”

  “But you have one,” Daphanie said.

  “I mean a biological child,” Nate said. “And yes, Nathaniel is my son, and I love him. But if he doesn’t come back, I want this child to be in my life. All the time. I want it here, living with me.”

  Daphanie gave Nate a confused look. “I’m sorry, Nate, but I won’t separate from my child.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  Daphanie took a step back. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  Nate was staring at Daphanie, then his eyes seemed to glaze over, like he was looking into his own thoughts. He focused on Daphanie again, then said, “We’ll get married.”

  “Oh, my God, Nate!” Daphanie said, wrapping her arms around him, squeezing him as tight as she dared. When she pulled out of the hug, she said, “This is because of the baby, isn’t it?”

  “Is there a problem with that?”

  Daphanie wasn’t a fool. Marriage was marriage. Whether his reason was to be with the baby or to be with her, the end result would be the same. She’d be with Nate.

  “No. But what if you get Nathaniel back safe and sound?”

  “Then we’ll have two children to raise.”

  Daphanie took a moment, swallowed hard, and asked, “And what if your ex-wife wakes up?”

  Nate looked Daphanie directly in the eyes and said, “I’ve always wanted a child that came from me. You’re giving me that. Monica never could and never will.”

  58

  Freddy stood by the living room window looking out from behind the curtain. He thought about a disturbing conversation he had had with Joni before they had finally fallen asleep last night.

  “We ransom the boy,” Joni had said.

  It took a moment for what Joni had just told him to sink it.

  “What?”

  “Five million dollars. You said he was rich, right?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you liked Nathaniel,” Freddy said. “I thought—”

  “We were gonna raise him as our own?” Joni said. “Be a happy family? Yeah, the thought ran through my mind, but what do we need more—a kid that’s gonna cost us money or one that will get us money?”

  She was right. He continued to listen as Joni asked, “Can you still get in touch with the man?”

  “His number was in my phone, but …”

  “Then maybe we can call the police and—”

  “Hell, no,” Freddy objected. “Might as well tell them where they can pick me up.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll call the jail. Tell Lewis to contact Kenny.”

  “Good idea,” Joni said. “He’ll tell the man we want the money, that he’ll have to bring it here to us, and if there are any police, then the boy gets it.”

  Freddy looked at Joni, almost shocked.

  “You don’t mean that?”

  Joni lowered her head, as if ashamed of what she just said.

  “No, and yes,” she said, looking back up. “I admit, I do love that little boy. Sometimes I’m so glad you brought him here. But then again, I hate you for it. He reminds me of what I’ll never have, and that makes it a little easier to do what I know has to be done. Freddy, we got to be out of here, and he’s our only ticket.” She leaned in to him. “You still love me don’t you? We’re still gonna be together, right?”

  “Yeah,” Freddy said sincerely.

  “Then I’m prepared to do whatever I must to make sure that happens,” Joni said, looking Freddy dead in the eyes. “You hear me?”

  “Yeah, baby. I hear you. You a ride-or-die bitch, huh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That shit’s a turn-on,” Freddy had said, hugging Joni, as she laughed.

  Now Freddy watched out the living room window. He was staring down the way at Billy’s security car.

  The man was sitting in it. Just sitting. But before he got in, he had been standing outside of it, staring at Joni’s house. Since Billy came by to return the corkscrew, Freddy would peek out the window just to keep an eye on the guy. Fifteen minutes ago, Freddy peered out the window to see Billy st
epping out of his house as if he were in a haze. He walked toward the car like something was terribly heavy on his mind. He was looking toward Joni’s house, then away again, then back at it. Then he stopped, stood outside the security car, his hand on the handle, just looking over his shoulder. He knows, Freddy told himself. He knows it’s me. He imagined Billy must’ve been watching TV, eating a sandwich or something, before starting his shift over at the mall, and then Freddy’s face was thrown up on the screen again. Billy probably asked himself, Is that Joni’s new boyfriend? And not being certain, but almost sure, he had stumbled out there to his car, wondering if he should go over and make sure. Freddy figured that was what the man was thinking that moment. But he was in his car, which made Freddy believe that he might just mind his own business and drive on to work. That would be what was best, because Freddy sure didn’t want to hurt Billy. He had done enough harm for a while.

  The white reverse lights flashed on, and Billy backed out of his driveway. But instead of turning toward the mall, the car turned toward Joni’s house. A moment later, the car was pulling into her drive.

  Freddy let the curtain fall back over the window. He was glad that Joni had gone to the mall with Nathaniel. If Billy really did know—was coming over to try to make a citizen’s arrest or some shit like that—Freddy would have to take care of him. He would have no other choice, he thought as he pulled the gun from the small of his back and walked to answer the knocking at the front door.

  “Hey,” Billy said, a fake smile on his face. “Joni home yet?”

  Yes, he knew for sure, Freddy told himself. He exposed half his body from behind the door. He held the gun behind his back.

  “Naw, sorry, Billy. Still gone,” Freddy said, trying to meet his false enthusiasm. “But she should be back any second. You wanna come in and wait for her?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  He must think I’m stupid, Freddy thought, stepping back, opening the door all the way and letting the bigger man in. Freddy pushed the door closed. When it slammed shut, Billy spun around, at the same time drawing a club from his belt like a sword. When he faced Freddy, the wooden club was extended out to his side, like he was about to take a swing. But he froze, for Freddy had his gun pointed between Billy’s eyes.

  “What the fuck, man?” Freddy said. “Why you gotta mess in business that ain’t yours?”

  “Then it is you. You shot those people in—”

  “Congratulations, but you a security guard. This ain’t fa’ you. Now I’m gonna have to take care of your ass.”

  Beads of sweat formed on Billy’s bald brown head.

  “I called the police. They should be here any minute.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Freddy said, calling his bluff. “You ain’t even know for sure it was me. You sat out there in your car for like five minutes, wondering if you was even coming over here. ’Sides, if you called the police, in a little hick town like this, the whole department would’ve been here by now. So shut up and toss me the stick.”

  Billy did as he was told.

  Freddy picked the club up from his feet.

  “You lucky I know you Joni’s friend, or I’d shoot your ass right here. But what I’m gonna do is walk your big ass downstairs, tie you up till she gets back, and decide what to do with you then. Now move,” Freddy said, pointing the gun in the direction of the basement door. It was in the hallway that led to the kitchen.

  Billy walked slowly, with his hands up. Freddy was behind him, the club in one hand, the gun in the other, pointed between Billy’s shoulder blades. The house phone rang, snatching Freddy’s attention way for a split second. When he turned back to Billy, the big man was lunging for him. He grabbed Freddy by the throat, forced him forward, knocking Freddy off balance. The club jumped from Freddy’s grasp. Both men fell to the floor. Freddy held tight to the gun, knowing if Billy got hold of it he would probably kill Freddy. Billy grabbed Freddy’s gun hand. He banged Freddy’s fist to the floor till Freddy could no longer hold on to the gun, which went skidding toward the back door of the house. Once Freddy was unarmed, Billy raised his fist and rained three quick, hateful punches down onto Freddy’s face. They rendered Freddy powerless for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Billy to crawl off of Freddy, reach back, grab the club, get to his knees, and raise the stick over his head.

  When Freddy regained his senses, he looked up and saw the man holding the club high in the air, a scowl on his face. Freddy knew he was going to die, that he’d be beaten. Poetic justice, Freddy thought, almost conceding to the notion. It was the exact same way he had killed his father. Then Billy yelled, swung the club downward. But before Freddy was struck, he heard three gunshots. He saw three holes open in the center of Billy’s chest and belch blood. The man’s eyes bulged. His mouth fell open, and blood spilled over his lower lip. Then his body fell. Freddy rolled out of the way. Billy’s body hit the hallway floor where Freddy had just been. When Freddy turned around to see where the bullets came from, he saw Joni standing just inside the open back door, his gun grasped tightly in her fists, a blank expression on her face.

  59

  Daphanie walked up to the front door of her building and was about slide her key in the lock when she felt a presence behind her. She whirled around to see Trevor standing there.

  “What are you doing, sneaking up on me?”

  “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I’ve been trying to talk to you. Why won’t you return any—”

  “Because there’s nothing to talk about. I’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

  “Maybe, but now something needs to be done.”

  Daphanie was a little scared. She looked up and down the street to see if there was anyone around who might witness the assault if Trevor actually tried something like that.

  “What are you talking about?” Daphanie said, trying to sound brave. “Are you stalking me? I swear I’ll call the police.”

  “I’ll stop it. I’ll leave you alone, never say another word to you once I know the baby’s not mine.”

  “I told you—”

  “With all due respect, Daphanie, your word isn’t good enough anymore,” Trevor said. “I need proof.”

  Daphanie chuckled. “Proof. What kind of proof?”

  “A DNA test. I’ve done some checking, and there’s a test that can be done on the fetus to see—”

  “No. Hell, no!” Daphanie said. “I’m not some fucking lab rat. No one’s conducting any experiments on me. I say the baby’s not yours, and it’s not yours. There’s nothing you can do but accept that.”

  “I don’t have to accept anything,” Trevor said, confident.

  “Yes, you do,” Daphanie said, taking a step toward him, pointing her finger in his face. “And if I see you lurking around my place again, I’ll go to the police and get a restraining order on your ass. But that’ll be after I go to your wife. We clear?”

  “I’m not done with this,” Trevor said, then turned and walked away.

  “But I’m done with you,” Daphanie called to him.

  She watched him till he climbed into his car, then she unlocked the front door to her building and stepped inside.

  60

  That night Nate sat in his living room chair, in total darkness, brooding.

  Was it right for him to feel happy if he lost his wife? If she never woke up?

  He stood from the chair with less pain. Nate was on the road to recovery. It was unfair, he thought. He was shot four times, Monica only once, yet she lay near death.

  Nate grabbed his car keys. He had not driven since the shooting, but he could not stand being in that house alone for another moment. Half an hour later, he stood at Tim’s front door, ringing the doorbell.

  “What are you doing here?” Tim said, after opening the door, surprised to see his brother. “You said you weren’t getting Layla till tomorrow.”

  “I’m not,” Nate had said, sadness on his face. “Can you get away?”


  Tim had glanced down at his watch. “It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  “Yes or no?”

  Now, when Nate told his brother to pull the car over, Tim parked the car in front of a chain-link fence, behind which the remains of a demolished house sat. Nate pushed open the door and stepped out before Tim even cut the engine.

  Tim exited the car and walked up beside Nate, who was staring at the pile of old wood and cinder blocks that once were the foundation.

  “Why are we here?” Tim said, his voice low.

  “This is what started it all,” Nate said, not taking his eyes away from the destruction. “This was Ford’s house.”

  “The place you took and sold?”

  “Yes.”

  Tim was silent for a long moment.

  “It’s not your fault, Nate. Don’t even think it.”

  Nate quickly turned to him. “Who said I was thinking that?” he said, a tinge of anger in his voice. “I know it’s not my fault. I did not shoot my wife, then shoot myself. I didn’t take my son Lord knows where. But I have to find him.” Nate turned back toward the ruins, walked over to the fence, poked his fingers through the links, then hung on to the fence and stared at the mess that lay before him. “Whatever it takes, I have to find that man and make him pay for what he’s done to me, to my family.”

  Tim stood there, watching his brother, not knowing what to say or do to comfort him.

  “Please!” Nate said, throwing his head back, staring up at the night sky. “Help me find him. I’ll do whatever. Whatever You want!” he said louder, a single tear spilling from the corner of his eye, running down the side of his face. “Whatever You want, I’ll do it. Just help me find him!”

  61

  Freddy and Joni drove Billy’s security car forty minutes from her house. Nathaniel was in his pajamas, asleep in the backseat. Billy’s dead body had been pushed into the large trunk.

  “Park right there,” Joni said, pointing to a spot under a tree.