The Million Dollar Divorce

by RM Johnson

  “You said you wanted to work something out,” Mr. Kenny said. “And in order for us to do that, I have to know where you are.” Mr. Kenny pulled out a number of twenty-dollar bills and held them out to Lewis. Lewis looked at the money oddly.

  “Go on, take it.”

  Lewis did as he was told. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “You said you’re homeless, right? Get yourself a room. And once you get there,” Mr. Kenny said, pulling out one of his business cards and handing it to Lewis, “call my cell phone number, and leave the address and phone number of the motel you’re staying in. Do you understand that?”

  Lewis answered with hesitation. “Yes. But why are you having me do all this?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “And what if I said I don’t want to do it?”

  “Then I’d take my money, give you your license back, call the police, and press charges against you.”

  That was the last thing Lewis needed, so he took the money, found the nearest motel, and checked in.

  He walked across the small room, over to the nightstand, and sat on the edge of the bed. He had pulled out the business card Mr. Kenny had given him, and was staring at the number.

  He picked up the phone and was about to dial the number when he punched in another number.

  The phone rang several times, and then to his disappointment, the call was transferred to voice mail. He heard the recording of Selena’s voice telling him that she was not home, and to leave a message.

  Lewis slammed the phone into the cradle, wondering just where in the hell she could be at a little after nine in the morning.

  He would’ve gone over there if that man hadn’t had his car towed, bad brakes or not.

  All he could do now was call the number this man gave him, then sit and wait for however long it took for him to call Lewis back.

  25

  While sitting in his home office later that same day, Nate had received the voice mail from Lewis, giving him the name, address, and phone number of the motel he was staying in.

  Immediately, Nate called the number of the motel.

  “Red Roof Inn, may I help you?” a woman asked.

  “Yes,” Nate said. “Do you have a Lewis Waters staying there?”

  There was a moment’s pause, then the woman said, “Yes, I’ll connect you.”

  “No,” Nate quickly interrupted. “I just want to pay up his room for a week.” This would allow Nate to keep the boy close to him, until he decided what the next move would be. But just what in the hell was that? Nate asked himself, racking his brain. That was the reason he was in his office at that moment to begin with, trying to decide what use there would be for the boy, if any.

  Just then, his phone rang.

  It was Barry. He called to tell Nate what was going on with him and his wife.

  “She wants half of my shit, Nate!” Barry said, an incredulous tone in his voice. “She cheats on me, and she wants half my shit!”

  “You didn’t have a prenuptial agreement, Barry?”

  “I loved that woman. I didn’t think I’d need one. I never thought she’d do this to me.”

  “Did she ever confess to you just why she did it?”

  “It’s what I expected. She said I wasn’t there, I wasn’t paying her any attention, acted as though I didn’t find her attractive or beautiful anymore. That shouldn’t be enough to go out and cheat on your husband.”

  “I’m sorry, Barry, but I guess it was, for her.”

  Just that moment, the wheels in Nate’s head started spinning; an idea came to him that he thought just might work.

  Immediately Nate reached into his desk drawer, pulled out paper, and started jotting figures on it. After he got off the phone with Barry, he made a number of calls, the most important one to the manager of his real estate properties.

  When he got the manager on the phone, Nate said, “The town home, west of downtown, have you rented that out yet?”

  “I showed it today,” the man said, “but no, I haven’t rented it yet.”

  “Good. Don’t show it anymore. It’s taken. I’ll call you back tomorrow with the particulars.”

  Next Nate called Lewis back at the motel.

  “I’ve paid up your room for a week. I want you to stay there.”

  “But why, Mr. Kenny?”

  “I’ll tell you when I have everything worked out.”

  “But why do you want me to stay here?” Lewis asked.

  “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

  The boy didn’t answer.

  “Good. Stay put, and like I said, I’ll call you back when I have things in better order.”

  For the rest of the night, Nate sat in his office, the lights low around him, as he meticulously devised a plan that he hoped would solve all his problems.

  26

  Nate spent a week putting his plan into effect, and after running all the errands, placing the phone calls, spending the money, and adopting the behavior his plan called for, he felt as though everything was in order.

  On the last night of that week, Nate stood shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing pajama bottoms while brushing his teeth. He was preparing for bed much later than he usually did, because over the last five days, he had been coming home much later than usual.

  Tonight he walked in the house at ten-fifteen. The night before that it was after ten-thirty, and the night before that, it was even later.

  Monica was not surprised or upset by his late arrivals, because he had told her to expect just that.

  “We just took on a new client, so I’ll be getting in late,” he told her the evening after creating his plan. He barely stood there long enough to get those words out, then turned and headed upstairs to his home office, not saying another thing to her.

  Since that moment, that was how Nate had been treating his wife—as though she was practically a stranger. The affection he used to show her all the time, before all of this happened, like hugging and kissing her when he walked in the door, now stopped. The way he would suggestively brush against her while they were both standing in the bathroom, kissing her neck—that no longer took place. Now, he avoided stepping in there or any other close quarters whenever she was occupying them. Every sign of intimacy, affection, or romance that Monica was accustomed to him showing her had now halted.

  He could tell that Monica felt as though there was something wrong with him, but she seemed reluctant to approach him with it, probably because he told her that he would be considering the possibility of adopting the child, when she had brought that issue to him. For the moment, he assumed that was enough to keep her satisfied.

  “You coming to bed soon?” Nate heard Monica call through the bathroom door. Nate spat the toothpaste out of his mouth and into the face bowl, rinsed, but did not answer.

  It was rude, and that made him feel bad. It was not like him to ignore her like that, but he forced himself to remain mute, convincing himself that it was for the greater good.

  Nate placed his toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, then closed the mirrored door, his face all of a sudden staring back at him.

  He had to turn away, because he knew he would ask himself why he was doing what he was, why he had done all that he had up to that point. But Nate didn’t want to confront those questions. It was best that he just proceed with the plan that he had set in motion, because he knew what he wanted the outcome to be. He could no longer worry about who got hurt, and what was right or wrong. What had to be, had to be.

  Nate placed himself in front of the toilet, lifted the seat, pulled the front of his pajama pants down, not to take a leak, but to check to see if he could get an erection.

  He tugged on his penis a few times, thought about his wife lying in the next room practically naked, thought about every other woman in his past that had aroused him, but when Nate looked down, he had not grown at all.

  “Good,” he said to himself, washed his hands, then walked into the bed
room.

  Monica threw back the blankets, welcoming her husband in, and under those blankets, she was wearing nothing but a tiny satin nightie.

  Nate crawled into bed, climbed on top of his wife without as much as even looking in her eyes, then kissed her on the mouth.

  Monica looked oddly up at him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Nate said, showing little expression, then kissed Monica again, this time longer, slipping his tongue in between her lips.

  “Nate, what are you doing?” Monica asked after their kiss.

  “I want to make love.”

  “But we tried every night this week, and nothing happened. Why don’t we just give it some time, and let it happen naturally?”

  Nate gave his wife a look that let her know he was hurt and offended by what she had just said. He started to slide off her, but she grabbed him and held him there.

  “Nate, you haven’t been yourself lately. I know you said it was stress from work. So, you aren’t feeling that anymore?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you don’t want to make love, then just say so.” Again he tried to slide off her, but again she caught hold of him.

  “Don’t be silly. You know I love you. I just don’t know what’s going on,” Monica said, looking truly puzzled. “But if you want to make love, you know we can.”

  Nate didn’t respond to a word Monica said, but lowered his face into the crook of his wife’s neck and started kissing her there. He did everything that he knew worked to turn her on, and as always, his efforts did just that. He heard his wife panting under him, felt her body squirming. She was reaching down, groping blindly for what was in between his legs.

  She would be terribly disappointed that there was nothing there, at least nothing that would be of any use to her. Nate was about as hard as an overcooked egg noodle, and when she reached for it, felt how flaccid he was, Nate said without sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry about what?” Monica said, pushing him off her, rolling him over onto his back, and straddling his knees. “You just haven’t had the proper motivation.”

  She yanked his pajama bottoms farther down his thighs, took his shriveled penis in her hands, and started slowly massaging it, kneading it in between her palms like dough. Nothing happened. She quickened her movements, her hands pulling at him at an almost blurring speed, but still there was nothing.

  Nate knew nothing would happen, was sure of it, but Monica continued on, as though she had to prove to herself that she could somehow force an erection out of her husband.

  After almost five minutes of trying, Nate reached down and grabbed both his wife’s hands.

  “You should stop. It’s not going to work.” He pulled Monica off him, and instead of hugging her, as he would’ve if this was really an issue, he turned away from her, onto his side, without saying a word, and pretended to go to sleep.

  It was an evil thing he was doing, and he could feel his wife sitting up, just behind him, probably looking down on him, wondering how he could be so thoughtless as to not say a word to her when he knew that she was probably asking herself if it was her fault. Was his inability to get an erection due to the fact that he was no longer attracted to her?

  If Nate had actually turned around, and honestly answered that question, he would have to tell his wife that it had nothing to do with her, or stress, or anything. It was all part of the plan that Nate had come up with.

  As well as every other aging man, Nate knew there was a pill that helped men gain an erection. But what he didn’t know was if there was one that would help him guarantee against attaining one.

  Nate visited his old doctor friend from undergrad, and found out there indeed was. It wasn’t the drug’s purpose, although it was a side effect that occurred when this pill was taken.

  Nate’s friend seemed hesitant when Nate asked for a prescription for the drug he could not even pronounce. But Nate reminded him of when Dr. David was struggling through chemistry, how he not only helped him get through that course, but helped him study, and pass two other exams.

  “C’mon, David. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be a doctor.”

  David looked up at Nate skeptically. He pulled his prescription pad from his lab coat pocket, along with a pen.

  “Fine,” he said, scribbling something across the pad. “But if you can’t ever get it up again, just remember, you asked for it.”

  Nate stopped at the soda machine just outside the doctor’s office after getting the prescription filled next door. He grabbed a Coke, and downed a handful of the pills. Two days later, he had gotten what he wanted. Nate was impotent.

  Every night since that day, he had tried and failed to have sex with his wife, knowing both the terrible physical and psychological effect it would have on her.

  27

  The next day after work, there was something very important Nate had to take care of, so he left work early, considering there was really no new client he had to stay late for, as he had told his wife.

  Nate drove south in the new Mercedes S500 he had bought only three days ago, while dialing Lewis’s motel room on his cell phone.

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’m going to be picking you up in half an hour. I have something to show you.”

  When Nate pulled up in front of the Red Roof Inn, Lewis was standing outside his door.

  Nate pulled in front of Lewis and allowed him to climb into the car.

  “How have you been, Lewis?” Nate said, not liking the look of the boy. “Looks like you haven’t been getting much sleep. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine, Mr. Kenny,” Lewis said, giving him a quick glance, then looking out his own window. “Just been sitting in that room for the last week, waiting for everything to happen.”

  “So, you okay with what we’ve been talking about?”

  “Yeah,” Lewis said, not turning his face away from the glass.

  “I didn’t hear that.”

  Lewis looked around at Nate, then said, “Yes, Mr. Kenny. I’m all right with it.”

  It didn’t seem that way, Nate thought.

  Two days ago, while Nate was enacting his plan, he called Lewis, told him he was picking him up, because there was something very important they had to discuss.

  Nate drove them to the first bar he came across. It was a small place called Taylor’s, and as they walked from the car toward the front door, Nate said, “I hope you don’t mind, Lewis, but I did a background check on you.”

  Lewis looked surprised, looked as though his head had just filled with a million questions.

  “You’re probably thinking how I did that, I know. But I have your license, remember. And there were some things that I just had to know about you.”

  Lewis continued to look at him, unable to speak, as though in shock.

  “But I’m glad to see that you’ve never been to prison, aren’t a violent person, and haven’t committed any crimes—that is, other than not having insurance, then ramming me from behind.” Nate pulled the door open, a kindly expression on his face. “But we’ll talk about all that after we grab a drink. After you,” Nate said, waving Lewis in.

  After Nate had ordered a scotch on the rocks, and offered to get Lewis something several times, which the boy refused, Nate decided to discuss the matter at hand.

  “I’ve been thinking hard about this over the last couple of days, and I’ve found a way for you to pay me back for my car.”

  Nate noticed a grave look in Lewis’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to kill anyone, or anything like that.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a job I want you to do for me.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I want you to get to know someone. A woman.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I want you to really get to know her. I want you to get to know her so well that eventually you will have sex with her.”

  “Mr. Kenny, who is thi
s woman?”

  Nate thought about keeping this information from him, but he would eventually have to know, so it might as well be then.

  “My wife,” Nate said, grabbing his glass and quickly kicking back the last of its contents. He set the glass down on the table hard, then looked up at Lewis, who had an unbelievable look on his face.

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I…I…”

  “Spit it out, Lewis. Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Kenny.”

  “I didn’t ask your opinion, Lewis. You wrecked my car, you begged me to work something out with you, and I’m doing that. This is the offer. Either you accept it, or you know what the consequences will be.”

  Lewis pushed a nervous hand through his long hair, shook his head.

  “Why you want me to do this?”

  “I’m seeking a divorce from her, and this is the way it has to happen,” Nate quickly answered.

  “But why?”

  “That’s nothing that you need to concern yourself with.”

  “You want me to get to know your wife, and sleep with her. I got to know why,” Lewis said, not backing down.

  Nate grabbed his glass as though he was preparing to drink from it, realized again that it was empty, then dropped it hard back onto the table. He motioned impatiently for the waitress to get him another.

  “I want children, and she can’t have them. There,” he said. “Now you know.”

  “Don’t you think—”

  “I said, I’m not asking for your opinion on the matter,” Nate said, knowing that he was about to give just that. “You asked me why, and I told you. So do we have a deal?”

  “I don’t think I can, Mr. Kenny. I’m sorry, but—”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  Lewis looked up at Nate, his attention arrested. “How much?”

  “I don’t know. How much will you be requiring?”

  Lewis looked at Nate as though he was joking, and when Nate didn’t say anything, Lewis continued looking at him, although differently, as though he was assessing just how much money Nate could’ve had, how much he could’ve afforded considering the car Lewis wrecked was a Bentley, and the one Nate was now driving was a giant Mercedes.