Romulus

by Tina Martin

  “Yes.”

  “Stating facts,” he repeated,” Because it felt more like a slap in the face to me. I thought we were friends. I was under the impression that you cared for and respected my parents the same way I look at your mother like my own mother.”

  “I do—”

  “That’s bull!” he snapped.

  “Okay…I’m not going to argue with you Romulus.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You got better things to do now, huh?”

  “Goodnight, Rom.”

  He closed his eyes when the line went dead then tossed the phone in the passenger seat. Suddenly the words Dr. Langston scribbled on the piece of paper came to mind – almost like a premonition:

  Losing Siderra would mean…

  He felt like he was already losing her.

  He should not have called. That’s where he went wrong. Showing up at her apartment was the better option. But it would have to wait. After already downing a couple of drinks, he decided to go home, sleep it off and get his mind right for work in the morning.

  Chapter 5

  Siderra

  I’ll admit I was somewhat excited about date three with Jamar, probably because my friendship with Romulus wasn’t looking too good. At least with Jamar, I knew I’d have a little fun and it would help me get my mind off of Romulus temporarily. That’s what I looked forward to the most.

  After closing the shop for the day, I took twenty minutes to curl my hair – I can’t remember the last time I wore my hair loose. I even put on the little red dress that has been hanging in the back of my closet for years. And I painted my toenails red to match – my poor toes…

  They haven’t seen the light of day in ages but they look cute in the peep-toe, black heels I have on. My makeup is on point, too – had to view some YouTube tutorials to pull off the smokey eye but hey, I nailed it.

  Jamar picks me up at eight and we go to dinner at Maggiano’s. I’m in the middle of slurping fettuccine alfredo when he asks, “How is it?”

  “It’s delicious,” I mumble. Mouth full. “You can’t tell? O-M-G…I’m eating like a pig, aren’t I?”

  He smiles. “Hey, I love to see my woman eat.”

  My woman…

  Am I his woman? At what point during dating do you become somebody’s woman? While I’m new to the dating scene, I know this claim of being his woman can’t be made at date number three. Or can it?

  I dab my mouth with a cloth napkin and take a sip of sweet, red Moscato. Jamar cleaned up pretty well for our date. He shaved. His dreads look cleaner than normal and he’s wearing a black sports coat with jeans and a plain white button-up shirt underneath.

  “You look nice tonight,” I tell him.

  “Thank you,” he says. “I figured the guitar-playing, hippie look was played out.”

  I smile again and continue eating. Between bites, I ask, “So, Saturday you were drilling me about my friend Romulus. Now, it’s my turn to drill you.”

  “Sure,” he says with confidence like he has nothing to hide. “Have at it.”

  “Do you stay in contact with your exes and have any of them become friends?”

  Jamar wipes his mouth. “You coming out the gate swinging, huh?”

  “It’s a legit question, I think.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll answer it. I have nothing to hide. Yes, I do keep in contact with some of my exes.”

  I lift a brow. “Some. How many are we talkin’?”

  He laughs off my question. “You’re not about to get me caught up with that one. All I’ll say is, I do keep in contact with some of them.”

  “So, in essence, you have female friends, plural, which has me wondering why were you acting like it was so odd for me to have a guy friend?”

  He shrugs. “It’s different I guess.”

  “It’s not different. You just know how a man thinks. Men like to seize opportunities. You see a woman and the game is on to see if you can get her into your bed and how fast that feat can be accomplished. That’s how you look at your so-called friends.”

  “Is that what this dude Romulus thinks when he’s with you?”

  “No, not with me but I’ve seen him in action to know the deal. He’s had more women than I’ve had years on earth.”

  Jamar laughs.

  “You’re not off the hook yet, buddy,” I tell him. “I want to talk about these exes.”

  “Okay,” he says, coming down off laughter. “What do you want to know, beautiful?”

  A real blush creeps across my face. I tell myself to stay focused. “How often do you kick it with them?”

  “Not often—just now and then. I usually get a call out of the blue to hang out and chill.”

  “And so you would do this chilling even while you’re dating?”

  “No, Siderra. When I’m dating, the only person I want to chill with is that person and that person is you.”

  “So you’re not seeing anyone else?”

  “Why would I need to see anyone else when I have a woman like you? You think I want to mess that up?”

  The man has a way with words. I’ll give him that much. I have to admit it feels nice to be complimented and made to feel special. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. A part of me wonders if it’s real or is it too early to be thinking about the authenticity of this? He could be blowing hot air, thinking I have a three-date rule or something, hoping that when he drops me off at my place, I’m going to invite him up for a coffee because he’s telling me all the things I want to hear.

  That’s not going to happen.

  One thing I’ve learned while watching Romulus deal with his heaping pile of women is that a woman depreciates in value after he’s slept with her. Then it’s on to the next one. The next chase. The next pretty face.

  Not with me. Some things in life are worth waiting for. After waiting this freaking long for a man who doesn’t want me, I can definitely wait to get married rather than waste my body on men who don’t have the same goals and values as I do. Men who want to smash and dash. Hit and quit. Toot it and—

  “You’ve gone quiet on a brother.”

  I glance up at Jamar as he takes a sip of wine. “My bad. I was thinking about something.”

  “Do share.”

  I shrug it off. “It’s nothing.”

  “Did you save room for dessert?”

  “No. I’m stuffed. I couldn’t eat another bite if somebody paid me.”

  He looks at his watch, prompting me to glance at mine. It’s almost ten. We both have to open our shops first thing in the morning.

  “Where has the time gone?” I ask.

  “Time flies when you’re with me, baby.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It is. That’s how you know we make a good couple,” he says. “If you’re ready, I’ll get the check.”

  “Yes.” I stretch my arms in the air and yawn. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  We laugh and shoot the breeze on the drive back to NoDa. I’m digging Jamar’s sense of humor. His driving skills? Not so much. When he parked on the street in front of the store I say, “If this is going to work between us, I’ll have to do the driving from here on out.”

  His chuckle fills the car. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those slow Betty’s who does the speed limit.”

  “I sure am. I actually want to get where I’m going in one piece.”

  He shuts off the car and walks around to open my door. When he’s on the passenger side, he doesn’t attempt to open my door. Instead, he says, “Come on, girl. What are you waiting for?” Then he laughs and says, “I’m kidding,” while opening the door for me.

  “You’re silly.”

  “And you like that don’t you?” He takes my hand and helps me out. “Most women like a man with a sense of humor.”

  “Most women or your football field of ex-girlfriends?”

  He chuckles. “No. Most women,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re the exception.”

  “No. I do
like it,” I say, walking hand-in-hand with him around the building to the stairs. When we turn the corner I say, “I enjoyed myself tonight.”

  “I did, too, but you know the night doesn’t have to end just yet.”

  I roll my eyes, but I doubt if he sees it. Is he really trying to get an invite inside of my apartment? I like him, but not that much. I’m about to respond with the excuse of having to get up early and how exhausted I am when I look up towards the stairs and see Romulus sitting halfway up. The smile falls off of my face and lands somewhere near my feet. I stop mid-stride, fearing I’d lose my balance if I kept walking before the gravity of his presence sinks in. I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed like I wasn’t supposed to be out with Jamar. Like I’m cheating on Romulus and he popped up without notice to see who the other guy was. A friendship shouldn’t feel that way, should it?

  “Romulus?” I’m finally able to say.

  Romulus stands, all six-foot-three inches of him. He looks irritated and tired. He still has on his work clothes – a fly suit with the jacket, necktie and all still intact which makes me muse over how long he’s been here waiting for me. He doesn’t say a word. Just observes. His eyes never leave me.

  When the feeling comes back to my legs, I continue toward the staircase. “Jamar this is Romulus. Romulus this is Jamar.”

  “Nice to meet you man,” Jamar says to Romulus, extending his hand to him.

  Romulus doesn’t return the gesture. He frowns and doesn’t make an attempt to shake Jamar’s hand. In fact, during this whole exchange, he never took his eyes off of me. He doesn’t acknowledge Jamar’s presence.

  “O-kay…” Jamar says, lowering his hand when it’s apparent he’s not getting a shake.

  I clear my throat and fake a smile. “Um, Ja—Ja—”

  “Jamar,” he finishes.

  I can’t believe I stammered his name like that. “Right. Um, Jamar, thanks for dinner. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.”

  Jamar walks away and I head up the stairs. “What are you doing here, Romulus?” I ask as I pass him.

  “I needed to talk to you so I’m here. Why did you hang up on me last night?”

  I fumble with my keys as I try to unlock the door, feeling his presence strong and intimidating behind me when I answer, “Because you wanted to argue, and I wasn’t going there.”

  I get the door open, step out of my shoes and say, “And I’m not going there tonight either. I just had an enjoyable evening at dinner with Jamar. I’m not going to let you ruin my night.”

  He pushes the door closed behind himself and says, “Your night was ruined the moment you agreed to go out with that buster.”

  I’m heated, but I try not to show it because he’s purposely trying to push my buttons. I’ve never called any of his women names, although there are plenty of names I could’ve called them. Yet, he has everything to say about Jamar.

  I glare at him. My eyes are sharper than broken glass, stalking his every move. He walks to the kitchen, finds a glass from the dish rack and helps himself to some almond milk. He looks at me, rocking a sexy milk-stache. I want to walk over to him and wipe it off with my thumb, but I’m too irritated to give consideration to it at the moment.

  “You look beautiful,” he says right before he wipes his mouth. The small island centered on my kitchen floor separates us. “I mean, you’re always beautiful – makeup or no makeup – but when you get all dolled up, you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  Compliment aside, the air remains tense and charged around us. I’m seriously at a loss for words and it’s not because he’s here. I’m used to him being here. I’m borderline speechless because I don’t know the state of our friendship at this point in time. Lately, it feels like every time we see each other we’re arguing. That’s not us. That’s how we were in college – when we were younger. Our college days are long gone. Now, we’re in the real world and what we’re currently facing is a real problem.

  “How was your date?” he asks.

  I can literally hear the hate roll off of his tongue. “It was nice to be wined and dined—treated like a lady.”

  His jaw hardens. Expression tightens. I take a seat at the four-chair dinette in the kitchen and that prompts him to do the same. He pulls out a chair and sits in it backward with his arm perched up on the chair’s backrest. He eyes me down again. I follow his gaze to my toes. “You painted your toenails,” he observes.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I painted my toenails.” What’s the big deal about me painting my toenails? Was I not supposed to paint my toenails?

  He breaks his gaze away from my feet and meets my eyes with a pointed stare. At first, he says nothing, just looks at me like he’s waiting for me to initiate conversation, or better yet, trying to get a feel for the mood I’m in. After wasted seconds pass, he asks, “Why did you hang up on me last night?”

  “I told you—I didn’t want to argue, and you were being argumentative.”

  “How? By asking how you felt about me and my family?”

  “No. By implying that I don’t care about you or them. You know I love you, your parents and your brothers. Why ask me a question when you already know the answer, Rom? Why do you need reassurance all of a sudden?”

  “It’s not all of a sudden, Derra. You basically told me you weren’t going to be around forever—”

  “That’s true. I’m not.”

  He’s silent. My words fill his thoughts. “Why do you sound agitated?” he asks.

  “I’m not, but listen Romulus. If I’m with someone and that person sees you as a problem, I would have to reevaluate some things between us.”

  “In other words, I’m kicked to the curb.”

  “No. I—”

  “Yes. Let’s not mince words,” he says, tugging at his necktie to loosen it. “If that’s what it is, then that’s what it is. It sure sounds like that’s what you’re saying to me.”

  “All I meant was, we wouldn’t be able to be as close as we are right now.”

  A frown disturbs his handsome face like I’m speaking another language and he’s having a hard time grasping what I’m trying to say. He’s too smart to play dumb. My words are not going over his head. He clearly understands what I’m saying. He doesn’t like what I’m saying, but he understands.

  “You know what bothers me about that, Derra? I’ve dated plenty of women and not once did I come to you with some crap like this.”

  “That’s because you didn’t care about any of them, Rom. They were just women you slept with. You had no attachment to those women.”

  His brows raise. “Oh, and you have an attachment to that ragtop, homeless-looking dude who just dropped you off?” he asks, his voice angry.

  “Is name-calling really necessary? And no I’m not attached to Jamar. I’m dating him.”

  “You could do so much better.”

  My head is going to explode. I’m sure of it. I know I can do better. Romulus is my better. He’s everything I want and there is no comparison between him and Jamar. There’s no comparison between Romulus and any other man. The issue is, he doesn’t know this. He’s not aware of how deep my feeling run for him. He has no clue that the only reason I’m dating is because I can’t have him.

  “You know what, Rom—I’m sure I can do better, but just like I had to get used to the women you paraded in front of me over the years, you can do the same. Jamar may not be the only guy I date. I’m sure they’ll be others and I don’t care if you don’t like them. It’s none of your concern who I choose to spend my time with and I don’t care if they’re not up to par with your standards.”

  He gets up, shoves the chair back underneath the table so hard that he inadvertently knocks over my salt and pepper shakers.

  “What is your problem?” I ask, but he’s already slamming the front door as he exits. I can only shake my head. He said he came over here to talk, but he’s the first one to end the conversation, slamming my door like this was the last straw. Like
I’ve gone beyond the point of no return and he can’t take anymore.

  Chapter 6

  Romulus

  “How was your meeting with Mr. Copeland?” Ramsey asked, stepping into Romulus’ office.

  Romulus had taken Mr. Copeland, the representative from Glasgow Industries – St. Claire Architect’s newest supplier – to the Uptown site for a tour. Ramsey wanted him to see where the Paris fashion house was being built to give him some perspective on the scope of the project.

  Romulus shrugged. He didn’t like the idea. “It was okay. We toured the site, he took some notes, we had lunch and that was that. I still say it was a waste of time.”

  “Anything to help this company achieve its goals and mission of excellence is not a waste of time, Rom.”

  “I’m just saying—that’s how it felt to me. This ain’t Copeland’s first rodeo. He’s worked on massive projects that were a lot bigger than this fashion house. And he’s seen the specs. Regal has already put together a supply list. There was really no need for me to take Copeland out there today, but in answer to your question, it’s done.”

  “Man, what’s eating at you?” Ramsey asked. He could tell right away that Romulus was off his game.

  Romulus slammed down a folder. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re here but your mind is somewhere else.”

  “I said I’m fine, Ram. Give it a rest.”

  Ramsey took a seat and studied his brother. “I hate talking about personal issues at work, but this sulking you’re doing is really starting to get to me, so if you need to take some time off—”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Romulus cut in to say.

  “Sure I do. I know your recent change in attitude is stemming from Derra seeing that guy you complained to me about on Saturday. I know you think you know it all but it’s okay to talk about how you truly feel, Rom. I don’t know how Derra has put up with you for so long. Oh wait—I take that back. I do know. She loves you. You’re just too hung up on yourself to see it.”