Erica nodded. “I might have to come in this Saturday to fill the void.”
Cindy walked over to where Erica stood. “I’ve already taken care of the schedule, so that won’t be necessary. I think you’re just looking for excuses to bury yourself in your work.”
Just as Cindy had avoided Erica’s earlier assessment, Erica was now the one slipping into denial. She hated to admit that she was purposely drowning herself in work, which she preferred to the sobering reality she didn’t want to face: that she was single, lonely, and getting older by the day.
“Keep this up,” Cindy warned, wagging her short index finger, “and you’re going to run yourself into the ground. You work nonstop as it is. You need a break.”
Erica shrugged. “I wish I could, but Fashion Week is right around the corner, and I’ve got to make sure we’re ready for it.”
“Don’t worry about the fashion show. I’ve got you covered with that, too.”
“Cindy, this is the single biggest event we’ve ever done. This show can take Opulence to an entirely new stratosphere!”
Through long days and even longer nights of blood, sweat, and tears, Erica had managed to turn what had started out as a small business in the basement of her home into the lush boutique she now owned in Georgetown, which was prime D.C. real estate.
Ever the business-savvy entrepreneur, Erica had called on the industry contacts she’d cultivated from her days as a beauty magazine editor to help her get started. She’d enlisted their aid to get Opulence featured in newspaper ads, radio commercials, and on hip and sophisticated blog sites that targeted a distinguished and discriminating clientele. That was how she had landed the opportunity to get her boutique’s products placed in the swag bags for Tracy Reese’s sold-out show.
Once fashion’s who’s who and Hollywood’s hottest celebrities got a sampling of Paradise, Erica knew it would be the ticket that would put her business on the map.
“I know,” Cindy replied, nodding. “But like I said, I’ve got you covered. The shipment of new products just arrived this morning, and as soon as Christopher gets here in another hour, we’ll start sorting through everything. There’s no need to worry. I’m on the case.”
Erica thought about it for a moment. She knew that Cindy was capable, and she also knew that she needed to take a break from work, if just for tonight. So she decided to concede. “What would I do without you?” Erica smiled.
“Hell, I don’t know . . . panic, bite your nails, probably lose your mind.”
“Oh, you’ve got jokes!”
Cindy winked. “A few.”
“Now that you’ve talked me away from the edge of the cliff, I guess I’ll make a few phone calls and then head out to meet Ashley. You want to join us? We’re going to The Spot, and I know you love their martinis.”
“Can’t. I’ve got to close.”
Erica looked at her watch. “You’ve been here all day. Get Christopher to close. He and LaWan can handle the store tonight.”
“LaWan called in sick.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, and I could hardly believe it.”
Erica immediately became concerned. LaWan was one of her best employees, and she couldn’t remember a time when the young woman had missed a day of work. Much like Cindy, she was efficient and prompt, qualities that Erica prided herself in as well.
“I hope she’s okay.”
“She sounded really tired, not like herself at all. I told her to stay home and get some rest.”
“Good. Christopher is still on the schedule, right?”
“Yes, but he can’t close by himself. He gets flustered too easily. If a customer upsets him, he’ll melt into a puddle of soft goo.”
Erica shook her head, knowing that Cindy was right. Christopher was a senior at Georgetown University, majoring in English. He attended classes during the day and worked at Opulence in the evenings and on weekends. He was a great employee, but he didn’t handle life’s harshness well. Rude customers had been known to make him cry.
“Christopher needs me here for backup,” Cindy said. “You know how demanding our snooty customers can be. The richer they are, the worse they act.”
“I’m going to have a talk with him . . . again,” Erica said, shaking her head. “He’s got to man up. It’s a hard world, and the sooner he learns how to handle it, the better off he’ll be.”
Again, Cindy didn’t say a word. She simply looked at Erica and kept her thoughts to herself. She knew that after Erica’s frustrating day at the courthouse, and her worries about the swag bags for the fashion show, the last thing she wanted to hear was that no amount of talking was going to change Christopher. Cindy knew this because life had taught her that people changed only when they were ready, not when you wanted them to be.
Chapter 4
“I’m soooo glad it’s Friday,” Ashley said, taking a sip of her pomegranate martini.
Erica nodded, raising her glass of ginger ale to her burgundy-colored lips. “Tell me about it. Technically, I shouldn’t even be here right now, because I have so much work to do. But as everyone keeps telling me, a girl’s got to have a life, right?”
“Absolutely. Especially since said girl’s social calendar has bitten the dust.”
“Please don’t start.”
“You know I’m right, Erica. I’m the only date you’ve had in months, and you look way too hot in that dress to be wasting it on me.”
“Very funny.”
“Actually, it isn’t. It’s a damn shame.”
“Hey, I’d love to go out on a date, and I was just thinking about that this morning,” Erica said, then sighed. “I never thought I’d say this, but right now I just don’t have the time.”
“Hell, make time!”
Erica twisted her round bottom atop her stiff bar stool. “Why? So I can be disappointed again?”
“You really shouldn’t think that way.”
“Oh, you’re right, especially since my track record has been so stellar.” Erica shook her head. “Let’s see . . . my illustrious dating career began with a bed wetter and recently ended with an asshole, not to mention weirdos and commitment-phobic mama’s boys sprinkled in between.”
Ashley took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “There will be no pity parties tonight. Just because you’ve kissed a few toads doesn’t mean you won’t find your Prince Charming. Hell, look at me,” she said with a smile, leaning forward on her bar stool as she crossed her hands over her abundant cleavage. “Who would’ve thought that not only would a hell-raising bachelorette like me find a wonderful man, but that I’d actually be engaged to commit matrimony, of all things!”
Erica laughed at her vivacious friend. Ashley was the kind of woman whom one could describe as a pistol, fully loaded. She was a gutsy fighter who wore her five-foot-eleven-inch, size eighteen frame with unapologetic flair. Her hair and makeup were always meticulously styled, even when she was lounging around the house. She was sexy, bold, and superconfident, the latter attribute serving her well and earning her a reputation as one of the smartest and toughest prosecutors around.
She’d caught her new fiancé’s eye during a law convention. He’d spied her in several sessions, and she’d smiled politely each time he said hello. On the last day of the convention, they’d both attended the closing party that evening. Ashley had been standing at the edge of the dance floor, swaying her voluptuous hips to the DJ’s music, when he came up beside her. He held a beat, then took her hand in his and boldly led her to the dance floor. They’d been dancing together ever since.
“That’s because you’re finally allowing Jason to make an honest woman of you,” Erica said as she smiled.
“I know! Can you believe it? I’ve officially turned in my playerette card.”
“How does it feel?”
A wide smile slowly spread across Ashley’s pretty face. “Freakin’ fantastic!”
Erica was thrilled that after years of dating and dumping more men than she coul
d count, her best friend had finally settled down and was now happier than she’d ever seen her.
Erica and Ashley had been friends since they met as neighbors at the tender age of seven. The two quickly became inseparable over games of pick-up sticks, hopscotch, and weekend sleepovers. They were like sisters born of different parents.
But unlike Erica, Ashley didn’t hail from a family filled with generations of educated, well-to-do relatives who held elite membership in the black bourgeoisie. Her parents, George and Mamie Jackson, had started from very humble beginnings. They’d been a working-class couple, struggling to find a way to make ends meet and provide for their four children.
But the Jackson family’s fortune changed one eventful evening, when George and Mamie sat in front of their small black-and-white television and watched as the numbers on the lottery ticket that Mamie held in her hand slowly tumbled across the screen one by one. They were the sole winners of a twenty-million-dollar jackpot.
The Jacksons moved from their cramped two-bedroom apartment in one of Washington, D.C.’s roughest neighborhoods into a large, seven-bedroom brick home in a gated community in the highly sought-after suburb of Prince George’s County, Maryland—home to some of the wealthiest black families on the East Coast. Almost overnight Ashley was swept from a life of poverty to one filled with material abundance and nearly everything her young heart desired, all just two houses down from Erica.
“How are the wedding plans coming?” Erica asked, looking at the huge, brilliant-cut diamond ring on Ashley’s finger.
“Girl, it’s a certified hot mess.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes! I love my folks, but I think we might end up falling out over this wedding. They still don’t realize that I’m a grown woman who can make my own decisions.”
Erica nodded. “Let me guess. They’re trying to tell you who you can invite, what colors you should use, who should cater the reception, and—”
“Nope,” Ashley said, taking a generous sip of her drink. “Try, who I should marry.”
Although Ashley’s family had come into money, had moved from the “hood,” and had used their lottery winnings to build a successful hair salon empire—which always landed them a yearly mention in national magazines, like Ebony, Essence, and Black Enterprise— the entire Jackson clan, including Ashley, was a rough bunch. “We keep it real,” her oldest brother, Russell, always said. Ashley held a law degree from Howard University and was highly respected in her field, but she could curse you out in five different languages while writing a legal brief using perfect English.
Her parents had taught her how to be kind, but tough. She was their youngest child, their only girl, and the only one of their four children who had graduated from college. And even though she didn’t follow the path of her older brothers by joining the family’s famed hair salon business, they beamed with pride at her accomplishments. But their pride had been laced with disappointment ever since she’d started dating Jason, her husband to be.
Jason Butterfield was a successful attorney and philanthropist. He’d started his own private practice a few years ago, specializing in providing financial legal services for a select client base. Born into a wealthy northern Virginia family right outside the D.C. beltway, the Butterfields were a clan who honored tradition and old-fashioned values. Jason had been taught by his father to walk the walk and talk the talk of a perfect Southern gentleman. He was kindhearted, generous, and had an easy way about him that could put even the most ardent curmudgeon at ease. His six-foot-three-inch, athletic build and boy-next-door good looks had made him quite the ladies’ man in his day.
But after meeting and falling in love with Ashley, Jason had settled down and committed himself to her completely. Once they starting dating exclusively, the only women’s numbers that could be found in his phone’s contact list were those of either colleagues or relatives.
He was the kind of man who most parents would love their daughter to bring home. But not the Jacksons. From the moment they met Jason, they’d prayed that Ashley would come to her senses and find another suitor more aligned with her melanin. Jason was white, and they weren’t having it.
Erica frowned, sucking on an ice cube from her glass. “I know that in the beginning your parents were a little tepid about you and Jason, but I can’t believe they’re still resistant.”
“Resistant is putting it mildly. Try horrified.”
“But the wedding is in less than six months.”
“And?”
“But Jason’s so sweet. He’s the most caring and sincere guy you’ve ever dated.”
“He’s white, Erica.”
“I know that, but—”
“But, nothing. You know how my family is. Backwards as hell.”
Erica nodded. “I’m glad you said it and not me.”
“Mama and Daddy are so old school, still stuck in that pre-integration mentality. And my brothers . . . girl, I don’t even want to tell you the stupid-ass comment that Russell made the other day,” Ashley huffed.
Erica could only imagine what had come out of Russell’s mouth. She remembered that shortly after Ashley’s engagement party he’d stated, quite matter-of-factly, that if his sister actually went through with marrying Jason, she’d be contributing to the downfall of the race. “She gettin’ ready to marry the enemy,” he’d said.
“Surely Ms. Mamie isn’t still having problems with the fact that Jason’s white?” Erica asked. “Your mother’s one of the most understanding people I know.”
Ashley smirked. “Yeah, she is, but not about this. For some reason she’s in my father’s camp. I love my family, but sometimes I wish I could trade them in for a more progressive model.”
“Yeah, but just remember that when it comes down to it, family’s all you’ve got.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Your parents support everything you do and every decision you’ve ever made, whether it’s been right or wrong.”
Erica nodded in agreement because Ashley was right. Joseph and Maureen Stanford were her two biggest cheerleaders, and even her brother, Nelson, always had her back. She couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t by her side, giving their unconditional support through every trouble or triumph she experienced. Her father always sent her flowers in celebration when things went well, and in encouragement when they didn’t. All of them had been right there for her after she’d called off her engagement with Claude, reassuring her that if she felt that strongly about it, she’d done the right thing. She’d even received roses from Joseph the next day.
Thinking about how fortunate she was to have her family in her corner, Erica tried to offer up a few comforting words to her best friend. “I’m sure that by the time you and Jason walk down the aisle, they’ll be on board. I mean, my goodness, they’ve got to see that you two are perfect for each other.”
Ashley raised her glass to the bartender to signal for another drink. “I’m glad you think so, but as it stands, that’s going to take a miracle. Daddy had the nerve to say I should just go ahead and stab him in the heart with a knife, because that’s what me marrying Jason would be like.”
“Stop lyin’! Mr. George did not say that!”
“Oh, yes, he did.”
Erica put her hand to her mouth, completely stunned. “Last night I went over to the house because I needed to talk to them about the guest list. You wanna know what he told me?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but go ahead and tell me,” Erica replied, holding her breath.
“He said I might as well order a coffin for him along with my wedding cake.”
Erica gasped as she swallowed an ice cube, whole. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I know your folks are old school, and they came up during a time when things were a lot different than they are now. But, damn, they act like you’re marrying a murderer or something.”
“Tell me about it.”
Erica looked at her beautiful, feisty friend, and for the first time she saw a
hint of sadness rimming Ashley’s wide-set eyes. She was shocked and appalled that the Jacksons were acting this way in the face of their daughter’s obvious love for Jason, and his for her. Erica knew that if she was thrown for a loop, Ashley must be completely unsettled by her family’s behavior. Then a thought occurred to her. She and Ashley were as close as Siamese twins and had shared their most intimate secrets. They were trusted sisters. So she wondered why Ashley was just now sharing this news with her.
Erica leaned in close and asked, “Why haven’t you mentioned a word of this before now?”
Ashley took a quick sip of her second martini before she answered. “Well, honestly, I’ve been hoping they’d come to their senses. And frankly, it’s downright embarrassing. I know my family has said and done some crazy shit over the years, but I never thought they’d act like this.”
Erica gently put her hand on top of Ashley’s. “Don’t ever be embarrassed because of other people’s shortcomings, especially your family’s. I know things are difficult now, but trust me, it’ll get better.”
“You think so?”
“I know so, my friend.”
“I hope you’re right, because my folks are only half the battle. Jason’s family is just as bad.”
Erica wasn’t surprised by this bit of information, especially after having met the Butterfields at Ashley and Jason’s engagement party three months ago. She’d seen the way his family had interacted with cautious smiles and refrained celebration.
“Jason’s family is old money,” Ashley said, fiddling with her cocktail napkin. “Old Southern money at that, and I’m not blind to the fact that they don’t want their youngest prodigy to marry a black woman.”
“Have they said anything inappropriate to you?”
“Not yet. His father’s really cool and very nice, but his mother?” Ashley rolled her eyes. “I know that woman is itching to say something. I can tell by the way she cuts her eyes at me from head to toe every time we’re in the same room. She’s probably wondering why Jason didn’t pick a petite, blond, debutante-type white woman like her, instead of a tall, plus-size, big-boned black woman like me.”
Breaking All My Rules Page 4
