Breaking All My Rules

by Trice Hickman

  “Fine.” Erica reached for the small envelope and removed the card. “Dear Erica, I miss you so much. Please give our love another chance. Always yours, Claude.”

  “Shit!” Erica yelled at the top of her lungs, but only in her mind. She hated reading Claude’s insincere words out loud. It hurt her ears just hearing the slick lies he’d manufactured float into the universe, resting as negative energy. But it was what Jerome had asked her to do, and she felt she had to read it. She couldn’t blame him for making the request, because she knew if the situation were reversed, and he received flowers from another woman while in her presence, especially one whom he had recently seen and been in communication with but had not told her about, not only would she ask him to read the card out loud, but she would also demand that he let her see the words on paper with her own two eyes.

  Erica wished she had told Jerome about her recent contact with Claude, but she’d honestly thought it was no big deal. In her mind, he was history. Jerome was her present and her future. She knew that Claude had called and sent flowers because he was looking for some type of angle to score with her. As she’d come to learn, Claude never did anything that wasn’t tied to something that would eventually benefit him.

  Although she didn’t know what Claude’s motivation was, whatever the scheme, it was messing up her beautiful Saturday brunch with Jerome, and she was determined to put a stop to it. “Listen,” Erica started. “I don’t blame you for being a little upset. But please calm down.”

  “This is fucked up.”

  “You don’t have to use foul language. We can talk about this like adults.”

  Jerome raised his brow. “Don’t tell me how to talk. I’m a grown-ass man, and I know how to express myself.”

  Erica nodded. “Okay. But I won’t tolerate disrespect.”

  “How can you sit there and talk to me about disrespect when I’m sitting here looking at flowers you just received from another man?”

  “It’s not like I asked for them or that I was even expecting them. I’m honestly in shock, and I don’t know what to think.”

  Jerome shook his head, taking a deep, heavy breath. “I thought we were building something.”

  “We are.”

  “You said you wanted a relationship with me that was gonna lead somewhere.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me that ol’ boy’s been calling you, wanting to get back with you?”

  “Because I have absolutely no interest in him, and besides, I knew he didn’t mean it. Claude’s the kind of guy who always has an angle for everything. He doesn’t want to get back with me. He’s just doing this because there’s some other thing he’s jockeying for. I just haven’t figured out what it is.”

  “You can’t be that naive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jerome looked at her as if she’d just asked him how to spell cat. “I know you always see the good in people and all that fairy-tale stuff, but you can’t be that blind. The man wants you back because he still has feelings for you. He told you so on the phone and in that card. What more does he have to do? Come over here and fuck you to make you a believer?”

  Erica drew in a deep breath. She didn’t like his tone but knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to debate it at this point, so she came at him with a different approach. “Do you trust me?”

  Jerome leaned back in his chair. “I thought I did.”

  “Yes or no. Do you trust me?”

  He remained silent.

  “This isn’t going to work if we don’t trust each other. There will be obstacles that we’ll have to overcome, but I don’t want trust to be one of them. If I was trying to hide something, or if I’d had even the slightest idea that those flowers were from anyone other than my father, I would’ve never walked in here and sat them in front of you, and I certainly wouldn’t have attempted to read the card,” Erica said. She took another deep breath and then looked directly into Jerome’s eyes. “I’m guilty of not telling you about having contact with Claude, and trust me, that won’t happen again. But that’s all the wrongdoing I’m going to claim.”

  There was another long stretch of silence, and Erica didn’t like the way it felt. She rose from her chair, went over to him, and sat on his lap. She cupped his face in her hands as he’d done hers last night, and again, she looked into his eyes. “You’re the only man I want, Jerome Kimbrough. I need you to believe that.”

  Erica waited for his reaction. Then slowly, she felt his resolve give way to her touch.

  “Damn,” Jerome whispered, brushing his lips against hers. “You turnin’ me into a punk for real, you know that?”

  “All I know is that I want you, and nobody else. And I hope you feel the same way.”

  “You know I do.” Jerome’s eyes softened. “I told you, I got you, baby.”

  Erica shifted her body, lifted her legs, and straddled him, sinking her middle into his. She opened her robe, exposed her bare breasts, and started grinding her hips against his already hardened crotch. They shared a kiss of repair, which quickly turned into one of slow, heated passion. For the next half hour they didn’t think about old exes or new challenges. All they did was live in the truth of the moment that was in front of them, right there at Erica’s breakfast table.

  Chapter 27

  Jerome was standing at the counter in the Foot Locker athletic store, purchasing a new pair of shoes for his son, when Jamel’s buzzing phone cut their afternoon visit short.

  “Dad, the fellas just texted me. They want to ball. Can I go?” Jamel asked.

  “So now that you’re a teenager, you don’t have time for your old man anymore? I’m just good for buying you stuff, huh?” Jerome teased.

  “It’s not like that, Dad. The fellas are ballin’ hard today, and the court is gonna be packed.”

  Jerome looked at his handsome, five-foot-ten-inch son, who looked just like him, save for the tawny brown complexion he’d inherited from his mother. At times, he was still in awe that he’d been blessed with a gift as precious as Jamel. He was Jerome’s pride and joy, the one thing he could say he’d gotten completely right in life. He knew that in a few years Jamel’s brains, combined with his athletic ability, would no doubt net him a full ride to any university of his choice. And in the meantime, Jerome planned to make sure that his son avoided the pitfalls and potholes that had nearly sunk him during his youth.

  “What court are y’all playing on?” Jerome asked.

  “Columbia Heights.”

  Jerome detected a hint of bashfulness streak across Jamel’s face, and he knew what had brought about that look. He also knew why his son was so eager to play ball on the other side of town, in Columbia Heights. The boy’s nose was wide open, smelling behind Tiffany, the pretty young girl who’d had him grinning like a fool last weekend, when she’d shown up at his birthday party with a pack of giggling girls. Jerome remembered Kelisha telling him about Tiffany, and that the girl lived in Columbia Heights.

  Jerome had been talking to his son about sex since the day Jamel turned eleven and had told him that babies were made when a man and a woman hugged real hard late at night. Right then Jerome knew it was his responsibility to school his son in the facts, rather than have him learn the wrong things from his clueless peers. He’d explained that in a few years, puberty would come. “Your body will change, your voice will deepen, hair will grow, and you’ll experience erections. It’s all part of becoming a man,” he’d told Jamel. “And if you ever have any questions, I want you to come straight to me, all right?”

  As Jerome navigated his truck down the busy street, headed toward the recreation center, he glanced over at his son, who looked more like eighteen than thirteen, and knew it was time for another talk. He found a parking space on the street adjacent to the building, turned off the engine, and began. “Is that girl you like gonna be here?”

  Jamel looked embarrassed. “Dad!”

  “Boy, don’t Dad me. I know you breakin’ your neck
to get in there because that girl from your party last week lives right around the corner.”

  “Okay, yeah, she’s gonna be here.”

  “You like her?”

  “She’s cool.”

  “Tell me why you think she’s cool?”

  Jamel unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face his father. “Is this gonna be another one of those talks? I already know about sex.”

  “I know you do. So let’s keep it one hundred. Right now your body is filled with urges that you’re curious about exploring. Have you had sex yet?”

  Jamel looked down at the floorboard. “Kind of.”

  “There’s no such thing as kind of having sex. You’ve either put your penis into a girl’s vagina or you haven’t. So are you talking oral?”

  Jamel hesitated.

  “Son, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m talking to you about this because I want to prepare you with the knowledge to make good decisions, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” Jerome broke the ice by recounting an awkward moment he’d had when he was Jamel’s age, and the consequences that had followed.

  “Jamel, your grandfather wasn’t in my life when I was growing up, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to me like I’m talking to you. I had to learn the hard way, in the streets, from guys who didn’t know much more than I did. Having sex is a big deal, and it comes with a lot of responsibility. It’s not just about the good feeling you get from the act. You have to protect yourself and make smart choices.”

  “I understand, Dad.”

  “Do you have condoms?”

  “Yeah. Rob’s brother hooked me up with some last week, but I haven’t used them.”

  Jerome knew that his son had left the word yet off the end of his sentence. The next phase of their conversation was going to require more time than they had right now, parked on the street. “All right, Jamel. Make sure you’re ready to go at five on the dot, when your mother comes to get you, and don’t make her wait.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, son, I want you to remember that you can come to me anytime, with any question about anything. Now, go play ball, and we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow.”

  As Jerome watched Jamel bounce into the building, he thought about how differently his conversation might have gone had his son been a daughter. Females were a whole other headache and mystery to him, and it made him think of Erica.

  He’d been mad as hell as soon as he realized that Erica had received flowers from her ex, and to know that she’d been in communication with the man had nearly sent him over the edge. But when she looked into his eyes and explained that she had no interest in rekindling that old flame, he believed her, because he had no other choice. Not only had her eyes told the truth, but his gut had confirmed it, too. But even with the double vote of confidence, Jerome still felt uneasy, because he knew his relationship with Erica was either going to lift him up or drive him crazy.

  It was late afternoon as Erica sat behind her large desk in her home office, still wearing her robe from this morning. She was combing through paperwork, getting things prepared for the week ahead. But try as she might, she couldn’t focus on the spreadsheet in front of her. All she could think about was Jerome and the near-disastrous hurdle they’d tackled.

  She needed to talk things out, so she called Ashley. Within five minutes she carefully explained the situation to her friend.

  “I can’t believe Claude had the nerve to send flowers to my home!” Erica fumed into the phone. “I haven’t heard from him in months, and now that I’ve moved on and found someone wonderful, he reappears from out of nowhere to cause trouble.”

  “Girl, that’s how Satan works. Busy as hell wreaking havoc.”

  “You can say that again. But I’m not going to let him mess up things between Jerome and me.”

  “So you really like this guy, don’t you?”

  Erica pushed away from her desk and took a seat on the comfy sofa on the other side of the room. “Yeah, I really do, Ash. I know you’re skeptical about him, but once you meet Jerome, you’ll see why I’m so crazy about him.”

  “I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all. But really, it doesn’t matter what I think as long as you’re happy.”

  “And I finally am!” Erica beamed. “Now I know how you feel when you talk about Jason.”

  “Humph.”

  Erica was surprised by Ashley’s flat response. “What is that about? You and Jason haven’t worked things out yet?”

  “The wicked bitch from Vegas flew in on her broom today, so guess who has to work tonight, and guess who has to show up at Nelson’s party solo, and guess who’s pissed as hell?”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

  “But wait. It gets even better. His parents are still coming, so now I’ll have to deal with them on my own.”

  “I didn’t know they planned to attend. I guess that’s not so good for you, but it’s great for Nelson. Tell them to bring their checkbook. This is a kickoff fund-raiser, of course.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Mr. and Mrs. Butterfield are gonna lay down some serious cash tonight. His father is already thinking about the influence he’ll have on city contract bids if Nelson gets elected. Strategic, honey!”

  “Wow, shrewd.”

  “You know?”

  “It’s really too bad Jason can’t come. I thought he dropped that woman as a client.”

  “No, he didn’t. Danni Stevens wants to stick around for more than just this deal. Trust me on that. And Jason said the money is so crazy, he’d be shooting himself in the foot if he dropped everything now. This one deal is three times my yearly salary.”

  “Damn. Why does everything always come down to money?”

  Ashley laughed. “ ’Cause, my dear, in case you haven’t heard, it makes the world go round.”

  “I thought that was love.”

  “There’s no romance without finance. And that’s for real!”

  Ashley’s statement made Erica think about Jerome. He’d made references to money and status, and the fact that he had neither. He didn’t have material wealth, but he made her feel rich and full and loved. The truth of what she’d just realized hit Erica like a bag full of bricks. She rose from the sofa and walked into her bedroom, barely listening as Ashley ranted on. She sat on the edge of her bed and smiled, because in that moment, she knew she loved Jerome.

  “Maybe this is just another sign that Jason and I need to put the brakes on things,” Ashley said, snapping Erica out of her thoughts.

  “You mean call off the wedding?”

  “I mean put a pause on it for now and reevaluate what we really want. We’re both having doubts.”

  “That’s normal. This is a big, life-altering step you’re about to make. Marriage is a serious commitment.”

  “Exactly, and if we’re having problems and doubts before we say ‘I do,’ it only goes downhill from there. Plus, when you throw temptation into the mix . . . I just don’t know.”

  “How much longer does he have to work on that heifer’s project?”

  “Another month or so, but who knows? At this point, well, like I said, I just don’t know.”

  “One thing I do know is that the love is there, and if you two really want this, you’ll find a way to make it work.”

  “Girl, the flesh is weak, and once that breaks down, all bets are off.”

  From the tone in Ashley’s voice, Erica wasn’t sure if her friend was talking about Jason or herself. But at this point she decided not to ask any more questions or make further comments, because she was there to listen, which was what she knew Ashley needed at the moment.

  The two talked for a few more minutes, discussing what they were each going to wear to the event tonight. After Erica hung up the phone, she walked to her master bathroom to start getting ready. As she turned on the shower and stepped inside, she thought about Claude and what his real intentions might be. She knew whatever he was up to, it wasn’t
any good, and she prayed that today would be the last time she’d hear from him. But as she lathered up her netted sponge, she had a sinking feeling that it was just the beginning.

  Chapter 28

  All her life, Erica had been punctual, if not ahead of time. It was a habit handed down to her by her father. His philosophy was simple. If you were ten minutes early, you were right on time; five minutes early meant you were pushing it; and an on-time arrival meant you were already late! So when Jerome showed up at her door one hour and fifteen minutes after he was supposed to have picked her up, Erica was beside herself.

  When they’d spoken that afternoon, she had impressed upon him how important it was that they arrive early, especially since all her family would be there. This was a huge moment for her brother and for the entire Stanford clan. A sprawling ballroom in the Ritz-Carlton Hotel had been rented out for the event. Elected officials, prominent business executives, community activists, local celebrities, and big money donors would all be in attendance. One of the local news stations was even sending out a camera crew to film the festivities for the weekend evening broadcast.

  When Jerome didn’t show up early, she wasn’t surprised, because she knew he was time challenged. When he was fifteen minutes late, she was irritated, but not too upset. She dialed his phone at the half-hour mark and started to simmer when her call went straight to his voice mail. When forty-five minutes rolled around, she received calls from her aunt Lucile, her mother, and Ashley, each inquiring as to her whereabouts. She’d told them that she’d run into a bit of a problem at work, and that she’d be there shortly. After another fifteen minutes passed, Jerome was officially one hour late, and her simmer escalated into a boil. She grabbed her keys in frustration and was about to head out the door when he called, letting her know he was a few minutes away.

  “I’m sorry about running late,” Jerome said as they drove down the congested street, headed toward downtown. “I took a nap and overslept. The battery died on my phone, so I charged it and never heard your call. When I realized the time, I showered, got dressed, and rushed here as soon as I could.”