Under My Rules

by Rhonda Bowen

She sighed. Given his tone, she knew Khai wasn’t really interested in an explanation.

  “Look. I’m sorry. I know I kind of overreacted a while ago.”

  “You think?”

  “But it wasn’t about you,” Portia continued. “It was about me. I should have gotten to know you better instead of making assumptions. I should have known more about you - and you about me I might add - before we started dating.”

  He let out a deep breath, some of the tension left his body with it. “It’s not your fault, Portia. That is the point of dating, to get to know people so you can decide if you want to know them more.”

  Portia nodded. Tense silence filled the vehicle as they headed across the bridge back to Brooklyn. With her hands folded in her lap and Khai’s eyes fixed on the road, she couldn’t help but notice the stark difference between the car ride at the beginning of the date and this one at the end.

  She closed her eyes and reminded herself that she was doing the right thing. She couldn’t afford any more stress in her life, and dating someone who didn’t appreciate the God she served would definitely bring about all sorts of unsolvable chaos. And it wasn’t just about her. It wouldn’t be good for Khai either. It would not be what he wanted.

  After what felt like eternity, Khai pulled up to her home. He shut off the engine but made no move to get out of the car.

  “I wish I could say I get it, but honestly I don’t.” He turned to look at her. “Is it that you’re scared of being involved with me? Have you heard things about me? Cause I can promise you...”

  Portia shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”

  She bit her lip and turned to face him. “Have you ever gotten a really expensive gift?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe once or twice.”

  “Well, when you get an expensive gift, you usually try and take care of it. If it comes with instructions, you follow them because you know the giver provided them so you can get the best out of that gift.”

  She reached out and held his hand. “My life is a gift, Khai. Just like yours is. But my life is a gift I got twice. Once just like everyone did when they were born, but again when God rescued me from my disorder. I didn’t take care of the gift the first time. But God, because He loved me and valued me so much, gave it to me again. And He gave me His Word, with instructions on how to take care of the gift. Not because He wanted to keep something good from me, but because He knows I will get the best from it when I follow the instructions. God’s guidelines are there to help us get the best out of our lives, Khai. We may not always see it that way, but God says I know the plans I have for you, they are plans for good and not disaster, to give you a future and a hope. A couple of years ago, I didn’t have a future. Today, I do. And I want the rest of it, the one He has for me. And if following Him completely is how I get it, then I have to follow.”

  Khai stared at her a long time, then he pulled his hand away.

  “Okay. This is important to you.” He nodded as if convincing himself. “I respect it.”

  She blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He kept his hands in his pockets as he followed her to the door and waited patiently for her to unlock it.

  Portia turned to look at him. “It was a great night.”

  He shrugged. “Thanks for letting me take you out anyway.”

  She couldn’t quite muster a smile, so she slipped her hands around him to hug him. It was long enough for the scent of his cologne to sear her senses, but over before he could get his arms around her.

  “Good night, Khai.”

  She hurried inside and closed the door before she was tempted to change her mind.

  Chapter 7

  “Girl, you would not believe what showed up at my house this morning.”

  Portia glanced over at the purple and white orchids sitting in the center of her dining table. Even from her position in the kitchen standing over the stove, she could see the card peeking out.

  “Flowers. From you know who.”

  Milo’s laughed echoed through the phone line into the kitchen. “Nice! What did the card say?”

  “Just because we can’t date, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Portia stirred the large pot of sauce.

  “...you have got to kidding. I ain’t paying that!” Milo snapped.

  Portia stopped stirring. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, girl. That wasn’t for you,” Milo’s voice reverted to its softer tone. “As for the flowers and note, you have to admit it’s kind of sweet, seeing that you did break the guy’s heart.”

  “I did not break his heart,” Portia rolled her eyes. “I may have ruined the little cat and mouse game we had going, but trust me, it was never that deep.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know guys like Khai. It’s all about the chase.”

  “There you go, assuming the worst of men,” Milo chided.

  “Not all men.” Portia covered the pot then opened the cupboard above her head. “Just Khai. And my ex, Barry. And the creep who used to live next door. And the Fed Ex guy. Something is off about him. But Brady’s not too bad.”

  “Brady? Baseball playing Brady? Haven’t heard that name in a while.”

  Portia shrugged. “He messaged me last night. Said he’ll be in town in a couple weeks and wants to do something.”

  “Wow.” Milo said dryly. “You sound really excited.”

  Portia sighed and checked on the noodles. Brady was good looking and interesting enough. But for all the times they had gone out, they didn’t seem to connect. Definitely not the way Portia and Khai had connected before they even went on their first date. Didn’t matter though. Khai was officially off limits. Besides, maybe things would be different this time with Brady. It had been a long time since she’d last seen him.

  “I am. It’s just—”

  “Hold on, girl. Listen, lady. I ain’t payin’ more than fifty for those.” Milo spat. “You know you bought them for like ten and you wanna come out here and jack them up. I work hard for my money. And don’t even act like you don’t understand what I’m saying. I know you didn’t come to America only speaking Chinese.”

  “Milo, who are you talking to?”

  Milo made a hissing noise with her teeth. “This woman on Canal Street trying to fleece me on some knock off LV scarfs.”

  Portia rolled her eyes. “Oh geez, Milo. What is it with you and Canal street?”

  “Alright fine, fifteen. But I want a discount on that purse too,” Milo dropped her voice. “Girl, you know it’s Christmas. I gotta stock up. Plus, those divas on the fifth floor of my building pretty much cleaned out the stock I had in my trunk. I can already tell they’re gonna be good customers.”

  “Milo, one day you’re gonna get caught selling knock-offs. And when you do, please don’t call me from jail.”

  Milo chuckled. “You worry too much, Portia. I told you I’ve been doing this for years. Now what do you want for Christmas? Fendi or Coach?”

  The doorbell rang. Portia turned off the stove. “Hun, you know I don’t do knock-offs.”

  Milo laughed. “Yes, you do. You really think I spent retail for that Gucci chain wallet?”

  Portia froze on her walk to the door. “My Gucci wallet is fake? I love that purse! People ask me where I got it all the time. I thought you bought it on sale?”

  “I did! On Canal Street.”

  “I can’t believe I’ve been using a fake all this time.”

  “Please,” Milo said dryly. “My philosophy? If no one can tell it’s fake, it’s real.”

  The doorbell rang again. Portia started moving once more. “Interesting philosophy.”

  “Works for me,” Milo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Listen, I gotta go. I just heard a man on a walkie whisper Birkin.”

  Portia shook her head. “Stay out of dark alleys.”

  Portia ended the call and headed downstairs to the entryway. She glanced through the peephole and sighed before opening
the door.

  “So is this what friendship looks like to you? Showing up at people’s homes unannounced?”

  Khai leaned against the doorframe and grinned. “I see you got my flowers.”

  He looked refreshed and a lot like the Khai she was used to. More importantly, he looked nothing like the disappointed man she’d left on her doorstep the night of their date. It seemed like the five days since had done their work on him. She was glad he was okay.

  “Usually people call and say thank you when they receive gifts,” he continued.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Does that mean you agree to my offering of friendship?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  Portia squinted at him. “You do realize that when I agree to being friends I don’t mean sexy friends, right?”

  He snorted. “What are sexy friends?”

  Portia folded her arms. “I think you know.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But just for clarity, maybe you should explain.”

  “We are never having sex, Khai. Ever.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  “What if...?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even let me finish!”

  Portia shook her head. “Really? How could you possibly finish that sentence appropriately?”

  “I was going to say what if I became a believer and we got married.” Khai smirked at her. “Could we have sex then? Or is it still a no? Cause I’ve heard stories about married Christians...”

  Portia held a hand up. “That would never happen.”

  “How can you know that?”

  Portia put her hands on her hips. “Because you have no interest in being a believer and if you suddenly did, I would wonder if you were doing it because you really believed or because you thought it would get you inside my panties.”

  Khai clasped his hands together. “So basically, I can’t date you now, because I’m not a believer but even if I become one I still can’t date you.”

  Portia nodded. “Basically.”

  He grinned. “There’s that Portia-logic that I missed.”

  She turned and headed upstairs. “What’s your beef with God anyway?”

  Since he was determined not to leave, she might as well finish what she was doing.

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions there,” Khai said as he closed the door behind him and followed her up. “You’re assuming I even believe there is a God.”

  She paused at the top to look back at him. “You can’t honestly believe there isn’t a God. I mean, you’re annoying but you’re not stupid.”

  Khai tilted his head to the side as he observed her. “Was that a backhanded compliment you just gave me?”

  Portia headed across the floor to the kitchen. “Quit fishing and answer the question.”

  “I will, after you tell me what’s for dinner. It smells amazing in here.”

  “Chicken lasagna and you can’t have any.”

  Khai slipped into the kitchen behind her and opened the largest pot. “Holding out on food is no way to start this friendship, Portia. Ouch!”

  “Touching my pots while I’m cooking is a good way to end it,” Portia waved the wooden spoon at him, threatening another smack.

  “Okay, okay, backing out of the kitchen.” He licked the sauce she had gotten on his fingers. “This is good though. You sure I can’t have some?”

  “What you can do is sit over there,” she pointed to the stools on the other side of the kitchen counter. “And if I’m feeling generous and you’re still here...maybe.”

  Khai licked the rest of his fingers as he sat back on a stool. “I’ll take maybe.”

  Portia was taking two glass rectangular dishes out of the cupboard when her phone rang. Khai watched as she picked up the receiver and hooked it between her shoulder and her cheek. He smiled as he noticed she had gotten a bit of sauce on her face in the process.

  “Hello...this is she.”

  Khai glanced at the pot wondering if he could get a second taste before she got off the phone. But before he could even get up, she slammed the phone back on the base.

  Khai raised an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

  “Wrong number.”

  Her back was to him, but he noticed the edge in her voice.

  “You seem pretty annoyed for a wrong number.”

  “You seem pretty nosy for a first time visitor,” she shot back.

  He chuckled. “Point taken.”

  “Okay, so if we are going to do this friendship thing, there are some rules you need to be aware of.” She turned back to the dish, evidently having shrugged off whatever just happened on the phone.

  Khai rested his forearms on the counter. “Really, PJ? Rules for friendship?”

  “Rule 11—”

  “Wait, you have a numbered list?”

  Portia squinted at him. “Of course. How else would I keep track of them? Anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted. Rule 11:You call before you come over.”

  “Meh. I’m not really a call before kind of guy.”

  Portia paused from laying flat noodles at the bottom of the larger dish and glared at him. “Are you a standing-outside-in-the-cold kind of guy? Cause that’s what you’re gonna be if you don’t call before.”

  Khai chuckled. “Okay. Got it. Call first. I’ll try. No promises though.”

  “Also,” Portia turned back to the counter, tilting the pot of sauce towards the glass dish. The pot slipped from her fingers. It landed upright on the stove but splashed red droplets all over her clothes and the counter. Before she could clean it up, Khai was in the kitchen beside her, wiping sauce from her fingers and hands.

  “Did you get burnt?” He pulled her hands towards him, looking over her fingers.

  She looked up, surprised at the urgency in his tone. “No. I’m fine. It wasn’t that hot.”

  “You sure?”

  She eased her hands out of his grasp. “I’m sure.”

  “Well, just in case, how about I hold the pot at an angle and you scrape out the sauce you need?” He grabbed two potholders off the counter and slipped them on before she could respond.

  She scooped sauce silently onto the noodles.

  “Thanks,” she said after a long moment.

  He set the pot back on the stove. “The less you spill the more I get to eat.”

  She shook her head. “Of course.”

  He leaned back against the counter and watched her sprinkle a layer of cheese on the sauce. “So you were saying something about another rule?”

  “Yes.” She added a layer of breadcrumbs. “Rule 12: No visits after eight.”

  “What if I’m here when it turns eight o’clock?” Khai asked.

  “If it’s after eight, it’s already too late,” Portia said.

  Khai laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

  She shot him a look that told him she was.

  “Portia, you’re a grown thirty-two year old woman. You’re telling me you can’t have visitors after eight?”

  “Male visitors.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit early? In the summer, the sun doesn’t even set until nine.”

  Portia turned around to glare at him. “And what time should it be then, Khai? Ten? Eleven? Midnight? Should I just let guys sleepover if it gets too late and they don’t feel like driving home? That may be what you do at your place, but this is my place and my rules.”

  He threw up his arms. “What if it’s a group of people?”

  Portia snorted. “Obviously, that’s different.”

  Khai shook his head. “Wow. You have really thought this out, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t framed your rules and hung them on the wall somewhere.”

  “No need. I have them in a file on my computer.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Sauce please.”

  Khai shook his head as he retrieved the pot and tilted it towards the
glass dish again.

  “You know, people who have this many rules are usually afraid of something,” he teased.

  Portia felt her muscles tense. She continued scooping out sauce without looking at him.

  “I just want my life to go a certain way,” she said quietly. “I know to some people it doesn’t seem normal, but I don’t want to be normal. I don’t want to look back at my life ten years from now and regret that I made bad choices because I didn’t have more self-control. So if it’s a choice between having my rules and seeming weird versus not having any boundaries at all, I choose being weird.”

  “Well, just for the record, I do think you’re weird.”

  She turned to glare at him, but found him staring at her. The look in his eyes made all her irritation unravel.

  “But,” he rested the pot back on the stove. “I like it.”

  She hadn’t expected that. And because of it, she didn’t know what to say. Until he tried to swipe some sauce from the inside edge of the pot.

  “Oww,” he pulled back his hand. “How are you so fast with that spoon?”

  “No touching my pots.”

  Chapter 8

  Brady Semple and his Escalade pulled up to Portia’s Brooklyn address somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00. The night could have gone longer, but they both had early starts the next day, or at least Portia did. Plus, she didn’t want to miss the latest episode of Criminal Minds, which started at ten.

  It was their second date since he’d been back in town but probably their tenth since they had started seeing each other. She met him through a friend of a friend at a birthday party earlier that year. Being the only non-drinkers at the event, they had found each other and had a good time chatting together. They exchanged numbers, kept in touch with occasional phone calls and hung out whenever he was in town. But it wasn’t even remotely serious. Portia didn’t have time for serious. And with Brady’s baseball career having him travel most of the time, he didn’t have time for serious either. But he was nice company on a Saturday night. Maybe one day, when they both had time for serious, if they were both still single, then something more could happen. Maybe.

  She unlocked her front door then turned to him with a smile.