Breaking All My Rules (24 page)

Chapter 35

E
rica walked up the steps to Ashley's well-appointed Victorian row house, feeling a mixture of emotions. Her day had started off with deep conversation and passionate lovemaking in Jerome's arms. By mid-afternoon her mother had thrown her a curveball she hadn't seen coming. And now, as she rang the doorbell and bent to pick up the Sunday newspaper that had been tossed onto one of Ashley's potted red begonias, she wondered what this late afternoon visit to her best friend would bring.

“Hey!” Ashley said, greeting Erica with a big smile.

“I can see you've been relaxing all day. You haven't even gotten your paper.” Erica handed Ashley her
Washington Post.
“And look at you, dressed all cute while you're lounging!”

Ashley placed her hand on her ample left hip and struck a sexy pose, highlighting her hot pink terry-cloth pants and matching top. “What can I say? I'm beautiful.”

“And don't forget, oh, so modest, at that.”

“So true!”

The two friends laughed and hugged as though they hadn't seen each other in years instead of just last night. They walked past Ashley's front rooms, all stylishly decorated in monochromatic colors, with sleek furniture that featured clean lines, and headed back to her den. They settled in, anchoring themselves at either end of her stiff, but fashionable tan-colored couch.

“So what's going on?” Ashley asked. “When you called on your way over, you sounded a little stressed. That asshole Claude didn't mess up things between you and Jerome, did he?”

Erica shook her head. “No, thank goodness, even though he tried. Jerome and I are fine.”

“Claude's more arrogant than I thought. He's so full of himself, thinking his shit smells like a bed of flowers. I was so glad Jerome put him in his place.”

“And speaking of Jerome, it's truth time.” Erica tucked one leg beneath her hip and rested the other on the floor as she attempted to make herself comfortable. “Tell me what you think about him.”

Ashley leaned back and paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “You know, I've been very skeptical, and not because of what he does for a living as much as because of what his checkered background says. I prosecute criminals, and I see the very worst of humanity, so my radar is up high.”

Erica nodded with understanding. “I get that.”

“You're not used to dealing with folks like Jerome, but I am, and not just because of what I do for a living. Let's keep it real.... My family is wealthy, but ours is new, first-generation money, straight from the hood. I grew up behind the gilded gates of Hill Crest Manor just like you, but on the weekends I went to visit relatives who lived in neighborhoods that you've only seen on TV crime shows. You come from a family of people who pride themselves on being born into generations of wealth, education, and social status. You can't even name a single relative who's been in prison, let alone understand the complexities of that world. So, when I got the report on Jerome, I had doubts because, baby girl, you're just not equipped to deal with the kind of life and people he comes from.”

“Where he comes from isn't who he is.”

“I understand that, but the reality is that he's still somewhat a part of it. Have you been to his apartment yet?”

Erica bit her lower lip. “Not yet. Why?”

“I have his address from the report. I know that area, and it's straight hood.”

Erica shrugged. “My man doesn't have a degree or a professional job,
and
he lives in the hood. You may not think he's right for me, but I know he's the one. I know we'll have challenges, but what couple doesn't?”

“True, but when you mix family into the equation, it brings on a whole other set of issues,” Ashley said with a sigh. “I love your family, but let's face it. Most of them are bougie as hell. I saw how your mom and dad looked at Jerome last night. So take my advice, as a person who's having in-law challenges, you better know what you're getting yourself into.”

Erica wanted to jump in and tell Ashley a thing or two about her soon-to-be in-laws, but she decided to refrain for now. “I do know, and I'm not going to let either of our families' views dictate our relationship, and I'm not concerned about what anyone thinks of Jerome and me, except the two of us.”

“If that's true, why are you asking me what I think about him?”

“Because you're my girl, and I value your opinion. I know you love me just like I love you, and I want your blessing. But if I don't get it, well, I guess I just don't. I asked what you think about
him,
not about
us.
I already know where Jerome and I are headed.”

Ashley raised her hand to her chin and thought for a moment. “I'm proud of you, Erica,” she said softly. “You're a lot braver than I am.”

“It doesn't take bravery to love someone.”

“Don't fool yourself.”

The two friends were silent for a moment, chewing on their thoughts. “I'll tell you what I think of him,” Ashley said. “He's a man's man, straight up alpha male for sure, which I like. I could tell that he's a stand-up guy by the way he handled Claude. I also like that he looks you in the eye when he talks to you, and that says that not only is he confident, but he's also not trying to hide anything. And what's most important is that I could see how much he's into you. Girl, that man would drink your dirty bathwater through a straw!”

Erica laughed. “You think?”

“Yes, and you know he would, too. You got that brothah sprung!”

“And I feel the same way. He's so loving and wonderful.”

“And fine as hell! You told me he was handsome, but you didn't say he was a walking, talking piece of chocolate perfection!” Ashley paused and gave Erica a serious look. “Now on to the real question . . . Can the brothah throw down between the sheets?”

Erica leaned back and fanned herself with her right hand. “Yes, yes, and triple yes. I can't even describe how incredible he is.”

“Damn! He's fine,
and
the sex is good.”

“No, the sex is phenomenal! He knows exactly what to do without me having to tell him. He's gentle and attentive, and he takes his time. But then he can switch it up and give it to me hard and nasty!” Erica purred with a devilish grin.

“Well, all righty then!” Ashley extended her hand, and the two friends slapped high five as they giggled like schoolgirls.

“He's so sweet. Just like last night, I know he didn't want to attend Nelson's event, but he did it for me, and he even stomached all that society nonsense.”

Ashley's eyes got big. “Girl, that's what I've been wanting to talk to you about! Did you see the look that Jason's mother kept giving—or shall I say, avoided giving—Jerome? And then, when he put his arm around you, I thought she was going to come out of her skin.”

“Yes, I saw,” Erica answered. She was treading lightly, just as she knew Jerome had done. She could see that Ashley was dissecting her response.

“You know something, don't you?”

Erica was quiet.

“I knew it! Something's up between Jerome and Mrs. Butterfield. He told you, and he asked you not to say anything, didn't he?”

“I can't confirm anything, but if you ask me a question that I really can't answer, because of privilege, I'll just look away and remain silent. How about that?”

Ashley grinned. “I've taught you well, my friend.” She sat on the edge of the couch and fired away. “Jason's mother propositioned him, didn't she?”

Erica turned her head and looked away.

“I knew it!” Ashley screamed. “The nerve of that old bitch!”

“I ain't said nothing.” Erica shook her head from side to side.

“That's downright trifling. She snubs her nose up at black folk, but I guess that doesn't apply when dick is involved.”

“I said the same thing. Oops,” Erica squeaked, covering her mouth. “I let the cat out the bag.”

“No, you didn't. It was pretty obvious, and I think Mr. Butterfield knew it, too. That's why he didn't have a problem leaving when she wanted to go. They've been married a hundred years, so he's got to know the deal when it comes to his wife.”

“I think you're right. You're not going to mention it to Jason, are you?”

“Do I look foolish?”

“Good. Some things are just better left unknown.”

Ashley let out a deep breath. “Wow. This requires a drink. You want something?”

Erica followed Ashley into her gourmet kitchen, equipped with high-end stainless steel appliances and fancy gadgets she never used. She reached into her cabinet, retrieved two wineglasses, and poured Moscato for herself and Erica. They sat on leather bar stools flanking the edge of her granite island as they sipped.

“Let's change the subject back to Jerome for a minute,” Ashley said. “Tell me what's up.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you don't give a damn about what I think about you and your man, I'm assuming the stress I heard earlier in your voice was about something else. What's going on?”

Erica appreciated the fact that she and Ashley were so close that they knew each other's moods and could talk openly. She didn't want to beat around the bush, so she asked the question that had been bothering her since last night. “Is there something going on between you and Nelson?”

Ashley chuckled. “You think because we were flirting that something is going on?”

“I don't know what to think. You tell me.”

“In case you didn't know, I'll fill you in on something. Your brother is hot! And you know me. I love flirting with hot men.”

“But it's Nelson.”

“Who happens to be hot!”

“What about Jason? He's hot, too. And let me fill you in on something. You're engaged to him. Remember?”

Ashley took a small sip of her wine. “Jason is a great guy, but honestly, I'm torn and I just don't know what to do. I'm not sure that I'm ready to handle the kind of scrutiny and problems that come with marrying outside my race. That's why I said you're brave. You're willing to step outside your social class and pedigree for love.”

“I'm not gonna sit here and say that race doesn't matter, or that we've evolved into a completely accepting society when it comes to it, because we both know that's not true. Your fears are valid. But you knew that going in. Any relationship is going to have its obstacles.”

“I know, and that's my point. I understand about facing challenges. I get that. But when you throw race, class, raising biracial children, and families that don't accept you into the mix, it makes for a crowded pot. It's just a lot.”

Erica nodded. “I talked to my mother just before I came here, and you know what she told me? She said I shouldn't worry about what society, our family, or anyone else thinks about my relationship with Jerome.”

Astonishment swept across Ashley's face, forcing her to set her wineglass on the counter.

“Yeah, you heard me right,” Erica said. “My bourgeois mother told me not to worry about appearances or what might seem unacceptable, not even to our family. She said I should follow my heart because it won't lead me wrong. I believe her, and I think you need to do the same.”

“The theory sounds great, but the practical application isn't that easy. After last week I knew that Jason and I had a lot to work through, but I thought, ‘We'll see how this plays out.' Then that bitch from Vegas came to town yesterday, and we had an argument about her, and he and I haven't spoken since.”

Erica frowned. “You haven't? That's not good. Have you tried to call him?”

“No, and he hasn't tried to call me, either.”

“You two really need to talk. Communication is key, and I'm just afraid that if you let things go, they might spiral out of control. Marriage is a big step.”

“I never, ever thought I'd get married, and quite frankly, I'd never really wanted to until I met Jason. Now I'm up to my eyeballs in plans for a big fancy wedding. My parents are pissed. Jason's parents are pissed. I feel pressure. He feels pressure. And I'm not sure if I can do this, or even if I want to.”

“Flirting with Nelson isn't going to solve your problems.”

“Does it bother you? The thought of Nelson and me as a couple?”

Erica thought about the question. Not in her wildest dreams had she ever considered Nelson and Ashley as a possibility. They were family. But then she thought about how much she loved both of them, and about what her mother had said earlier about following one's heart. “It would take some getting used to. But if that's what you two wanted, I would be happy for you.” Erica cleared her throat. “Are you two fooling around?”

Ashley took a sip of wine, shifting her weight on the bar stool.

“Ashley, are you and Nelson fooling around?” Erica asked slowly for a second time. She took a deep breath, and then something caught her eye. She looked down the hall toward Ashley's coatrack, and when she saw Nelson's leather jacket hanging on the hook, she got her answer.

Chapter 36

J
erome and Jamel sat across from each other in a small booth, enjoying their Sunday afternoon lunch. They were at Ben's Chili Bowl, a D.C. institution famous for its savory pork and beef sausage Half-Smokes and it's legendary chili. Jerome took a bite of his Chili Half-Smoke as he listened to his son talk about his new girlfriend, Tiffany Macey.

“We kinda made it official yesterday,” Jamel said, trying to withhold the silly grin that threatened his lips. “She's cool, Dad.”

Jerome nodded. “That's good, and this is the second time you've said that about her. So tell me why you think she's cool?” He wanted to see where his son's head was. He knew the boy was raging with hormones, and that simple fact, along with the young girl's pretty face, had both contributed to her coolness. Jerome saw this father-son time as the perfect opportunity to start teaching Jamel what qualities he should look for in a woman and how he should conduct himself as a young gentleman. These were things he'd never been taught or even thought about growing up.

Jamel stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth, chewed for a minute, and then spoke. “She's smart. She makes good grades. And she's really nice to everybody. She's easy to talk to, not like most girls, and she knows a whole lot about sports.”

“Those are good qualities. Especially that she's smart and treats people nice. That's very important, because the kind of young lady you choose can either help or hurt you. Always look for someone who's trying to do good things with her life.”

Jamel smiled. “Yeah, she's looking at colleges now and studying for the PSAT. She said she's gonna help me with mine when it's time for me to take it.”

Although Jerome had never thought about taking the college entrance exam before he dropped out of school so many years ago, he still knew what it was, and he understood that seventh graders generally didn't take the test for at least a couple more years. “What grade is she in?”

“She's a sophomore,” Jamel said with a prideful grin. “Tiffany's fifteen, Dad.”

Jerome rested his half-eaten food on his plate. He didn't know whether to high-five his son or caution him. A two-year age gap wasn't a big deal, but going from thirteen to fifteen was like going from zero to one hundred. Jamel had been only twelve up until last weekend, and now he had condoms and a girlfriend.

Jerome was more than a little unsettled by the rapid developments in his young son's life. But then he remembered that he'd long lost his virginity by the time he was Jamel's age. And that was what worried him. He didn't want Jamel traveling down the same road.

Jerome decided to remain neutral until they finished their meal, giving his food and his thoughts enough time to digest before he laid down the law on their ride back home.

 

 

“I still can't believe how fast he's growing up,” Jerome said to his father as he drank from his tall glass of iced tea. “But he's a good kid, so I think he'll be all right.”

“Sure he will. He's a chip off the old block. You're doin' a fine job with Jamel,” Jerome's father said.

Jerome was sitting on the floral-print couch across from his father, sharing a late afternoon conversation, just as he'd done with his own son earlier that day. This was what he'd always wanted, a relationship with his father, and it still amazed him that his childhood wish had been answered nearly three decades later.

After Parnell left the family, Jerome had prayed every night for a full year that his father would return. And even though he'd stopped the nightly devotion when year two rolled around, he'd never given up on the dream or desire of having his father in his life.

Parnell Kimbrough's journey back to his family had been a precarious one. Tall, dark, and so handsome that women literally swooned over him, Parnell had been a natural playboy and a smooth charmer. He'd also been a natural-born street hustler, preferring to walk a crooked line over what was right and just. His long-standing weakness for beautiful women, coupled with his growing, and often dangerous, involvement in the streets, had left him a wayward man. When his wife, Mabel, couldn't take his philandering, hustler ways any longer, she told him to get out of the apartment they shared with their two children.

At the time, Parnell saw it as his ticket out of a load of responsibilities he'd never wanted. But life without his young wife and children had proven to be hard, eventually landing him in jail for one petty crime after the other. Finally, during one of his long incarcerations, he experienced a spiritual awakening that changed his life. He began studying the Bible and eventually gave his life over to God. Once he was released from prison, he tried to contact Mabel, but she refused to return any of his phone calls. He sent her several handwritten letters apologizing and asking for her forgiveness, but within days of mailing them, he would receive them back, unopened, with
RETURN TO SENDER
in Mabel's handwriting across the envelope.

Finally, after several months of futile attempts to reconnect with his family, and with no job offers in sight, he decided to travel out west, to L.A. He'd been given an opportunity to join a small ministry that was run by the brother of the inmate who'd led him to the Lord and, in turn, to his salvation.

Parnell thrived out west and grew closer to the Lord in his spiritual journey, eventually starting a small church of his own. And although Mabel had not found it in her heart to forgive him, he wired money to her bank account each month without fail. When he heard about her and his grandson's car accident, he dropped everything and headed back to D.C. He stayed by Mabel's bedside during her two-week hospitalization, and once she was released, he faithfully chauffeured her to and from her physical therapy appointments over the next four months. By that time, it was clear that Mabel and Parnell were back together again, and this go-round it was for good.

It had taken Jerome a while to get used to his father being back in his life. He'd prayed for it, but he hadn't expected the resentment and anger that had come forth each time he looked into Parnell's eyes. It didn't matter that Mabel had told him to leave. Jerome knew from experience that if a man wanted to stick around, there was nothing a woman could say or do to get rid of him.

Father and son had to take baby steps toward healing the wounds of abandonment that Jerome felt, but eventually, they found their way back to each other. Today their relationship was strong, and Jerome was thankful for it.

“When he told me his little girlfriend was fifteen, I thought, ‘Damn. She's gonna turn him out,' ” Jerome said, shaking his head. “He's already got condoms and everything. But he's still just a kid, and he's not ready.”

“No, he's not. The responsibility that comes with it is something young people can't fathom. I know I didn't.”

“I don't want him out there gettin' all caught up, so I need to keep an extra pair of eyes on him. But at the same time I can't be there to watch his every move or control what he's doing.”

“True. There's only so much you can do.”

“I just pray he makes smart decisions and takes precautions. I broke everything down for him, real talk, and I told him not to let any of those knucklehead friends of his pressure him into anything. The sign of a real man is how much self-control and independence he has.”

Parnell nodded. “I'm proud of you, Jerome. You're a much better father than I ever was.”

“You're here now, and that's what counts.”

“Not a day goes by that I don't regret leaving you all the way I did. So many wasted years that we can't get back.” Parnell sighed and shook his head. “But I'm thankful because despite my shortcomings, God blessed me with a second chance. Not too many people get those.”

“You're right.” Jerome took a long gulp of his iced tea, swishing the ice cubes around in his mouth. He sat his glass on the coaster atop the side table and glanced over at his father. “I met someone.”

Parnell raised his brow. “Oh yeah?”

Jerome knew his father was shocked. In the ten years since Parnell had reentered his life, Jerome had never introduced, let alone talked about, any of the women he'd dated to his parents. On the rare occasions that he sought relationship advice from his father, he never called any one woman by name, and the conversation was usually very general in nature. But with Erica, it was different, and he found himself telling his father all about her. He tried not to smile like a love-struck kid—as he'd seen Jamel do—but he couldn't help it. The mention of Erica's name and the thought of her soft, sweet-smelling skin brought about feelings that were hard for him to hide.

“She's special,” he said. “I see a good future with Erica.”

Parnell said with a smile, “I'm happy for you, son.”

“Thanks, Pop. She's definitely the one. I'm just glad that I'm ready for her. You know what I mean?”

Parnell nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Your mother is the best woman I've ever known, but it took losing her for me to realize it.”

And as if on cue, Mabel walked into the room. “What'chall in here talkin' about all quiet like?” she asked. She leaned over and gave Jerome a quick kiss on the cheek, then sat her cane on the side of the couch as she took a seat next to her son.

Jerome looked to Parnell to see what he would say, and was surprised when he glimpsed a smile holding up each side of his father's mouth. It was aimed at his mother. Parnell looked at Mabel with a kind of affection that Jerome had never seen, or perhaps had never taken the time to notice until now. He didn't know if it was the maturity he'd achieved by virtue of age and experience, or the raw feelings and emotions that Erica had stirred in him, or the reality of his son's coming-of-age, but he recognized through the glint in his father's eyes what real love looked like.

“I was telling Pop that I met a really special woman,” Jerome said to his mother.

“Oh yeah?” she replied.

Jerome chuckled. “That's the first thing Pop said.”

“'Cause he was probably just as shocked as me. I know you not as bad as you used to be, but you still got a lot of women, and we ain't never heard you mention anybody outside of Kelisha.”

Whereas Parnell was more reserved and laid-back, Mabel was extroverted, if not boisterous, and would let you know exactly what was on her mind. She was a Southern woman who came from a different kind of South, one void of the legendary genteelness associated with the region. Rather, she'd been raised by women who couldn't afford the luxury of living as polite belles or shrinking violets. They were more the steel magnolia breed—strong enough to raise an entire family without a man's presence, yet gentle enough to soothe and comfort anyone in need.

Jerome shook his head and laughed. “Now, how do you know about who I'm seeing or what I'm doing?”

“A mother knows her child, and you always have loved women,” she answered.

“Stay outta his business, Mabel,” Parnell cautioned.

“He the one bringin' up his love life, not me.”

“You're right, Mom,” Jerome said, leaning back into the couch. “But I've changed more than you know. I'm ready to settle down with a good woman, and I believe I've found her.” Jerome went on to tell his mother about Erica, how they'd met, and that she was a successful business owner.

“That's good that she got her own store and runs things herself. She got spunk,” Mabel said.

“Yes, she does. She makes me want to step up my game.”

“Where's she from?” Mabel asked.

“She grew up in PG County.”

“That's real nice. She got any kids?”

“No. No children.”

“She ever been married?”

“No, she hasn't,” Jerome answered. He could see the wrinkle line appear across his mother's otherwise smooth forehead. It was a crease he was familiar with. It always appeared when Mabel was in serious thought. “Go on and say what you're thinking.”

Mabel crossed her plump arms over the girth of her stomach. “I been readin' about how hard it is for young black women to find a man, get married, and have kids. A lot of 'em startin' to date outside the race, just like y'all black men been doin' for centuries.”

“That won't be Erica's problem any longer,” Jerome replied.

Parnell and Mabel looked at each other and then at their son. Jerome could see that he'd shocked them both again. Talk of a commitment coming from his mouth was like hearing him speak a foreign language. He had to admit that it was startling, even to him. But he knew what was in his heart, and he was ready to go for it.

 

 

Jerome was satisfied with his day and couldn't think of the last time he'd felt this good. He'd awakened beside the woman he loved, starting the morning off with good conversation and even better lovemaking. Then he had spent quality time with his son and had opened up another facet of their relationship. He'd rounded things off by visiting with his parents and shocking them before they ate his mother's delicious Sunday dinner meal. And now, as nighttime had descended, Jerome lay in bed and dialed Erica's number.

“Hi, Jerome,” she said, picking up on the first ring.

The sound of his name coming out of her mouth made him smile. “Hey, you. Did you get the call from court?”

“Yes, I did. I'm glad Ms. Slater is feeling better. Now we can get her testimony tomorrow and hopefully be done with the trial.”

“We'll see. What're you doin'?” he asked.