Breaking All My Rules (2 page)

Chapter 2

L
ooking at her alarm clock for a second time, Erica considered crawling back under her luxuriously soft bedsheets. But instead of giving in to the urge to hug her mattress and block out the world, she willed herself to stand up, put one foot in front of the other, and lumber her way downstairs to her kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

Erica knew what her problem was, and she'd been thinking about this day ever since she had looked at the calendar last Tuesday and realized its significance.

She wanted to pull herself out of the dreary place where she was stuck, because it was like being locked inside a room without a key. But try as she might, lately it seemed as if every time her mind took one step forward, something would go wrong and pull her back two paces. And this morning she felt as though the gun had sounded but she was still hunched over the starting block, already behind in the race.

“You've got to get it together, sister,” Erica whispered to herself as she rubbed sleep from her tired eyes.

One of the reasons for her less than enthusiastic mood was the fact that she had to report to D.C. Superior Court for jury duty by 8:00 a.m., which meant she had to leave soon. She had a jam-packed workweek ahead, filled with a million and one things she had to do at Opulence, the high-end bath and body care boutique she owned. The next three weeks were crucial for her business's future growth.

Through a combination of networking, planning, and being in the right place at the right time, she'd managed to score a game-changing business opportunity. Opulence products were going to be included in the coveted swag bags at the highly anticipated Tracy Reese fashion show during New York City's famed Fashion Week. Erica was ecstatic about the stroke of good fortune, because she knew it was going to catapult her small company to an entirely new level.

But ever since she'd signed the contract eight months ago to seal the sweet deal, everything that could go wrong had. From a mix-up with her chemical formulations for Paradise, the new body butter she planned to debut at Fashion Week, to a breakdown in price negotiations with a longtime supplier, to one of her employees abruptly quitting two days ago, leaving her short staffed, Erica had been scrambling to hold things together.

Her days were rushed, her nights were long, and the last thing she needed at this pivotal juncture was an all-day trip to the courthouse.

But the other source of her frustration, and what felt like a subtle blow to the pit of her stomach, could be summed up in three small, but painful words . . . Claude Daniel Richardson. Or as her best friend, Ashley, not so affectionately called him, Lucifer!

Today made exactly six months since Erica and Claude had broken up, bringing their two-year romance to a crushing end. Erica knew that she shouldn't let a failed relationship have this kind of effect on her, especially since breaking up with Claude had been for the best. But she hadn't met a decent man worth mentioning since their split, or even gone on a date, and now her gloomy love life only added to her already dampened spirits.

Her breakup with Claude had been just one in a long string of disappointments that she'd experienced with men, and now she was what she'd secretly feared—a statistic. She was one of the reported 42.4 percent of single black women who had yet to marry. And worse still, she didn't see her prospects for matrimony getting any better, because one needed to actually meet and date men for that to happen, and right now things were looking fairly dim.

But what concerned Erica even more was the thought that she might reach over to the ugly side of that dreaded statistic and become the stereotypical bitter, angry black woman who ranted about all of life's woes and the sorry, no-good men who'd dogged her, yet didn't have an amiable disposition to attract anything different. That was why she was always mindful to be pleasant and kind to everyone she met.

Erica shook her head when she thought about her ex. Claude Richardson was supposed to have remedied her statistical fears. He was supposed to have been “the one.” She'd thought he was her black prince, the man who would give her the two kids, the dog, and the big, beautiful home that most women dreamed of, and that she'd been accustomed to growing up.

Claude was the man who all her family and friends, sans Ashley, had referred to as a good catch. He was a successful investment banker who owned a sprawling home in the wealthy Palisades neighborhood of northwest Washington, D.C. He was handsome, successful, educated, well mannered, and responsible. He opened doors, always remembered special occasions and holidays, and showered Erica with thoughtful gifts and any material thing she desired.

After their split, Erica had received condolences and a strong show of support from her girlfriends, who had said things like, “I'm so sorry to hear about you and Claude. He was one of the good ones,” and “I can't believe you and Claude called it quits! You two were absolutely perfect together.” But within days, the very friends who had shared drinks with her, offering sympathetic words of comfort, had added Claude to their phones' speed dial and had linked up with him through various social networking sites. The murky, shark-infested waters of the D.C. dating scene were brutal, and it was all about survival of the craftiest.

Erica opened the cabinet over her sink and reached in for her Winston-Salem State University coffee mug. “Damn, why can't I at least go out on a decent date?” she mumbled to herself, thinking about her crappy luck with men. But she knew the answer to that question before she'd asked it. The real truth was that her work schedule and her underlying fear of being disappointed again were both blocking her way.

She inhaled the sweet aroma of hazelnut-flavored coffee and watched as her Keurig machine produced a liquid stream of black gold that filled her ceramic mug. She shook her head again, remembering how much Claude's lying ass loved a piping hot cup of coffee first thing in the morning. “Why didn't I see it coming?” Erica asked herself.

On the surface, Erica and Claude had been the ideal couple. They had both graduated in the top 10 percent of their class from Winston-Salem State University, loyally following in the tradition of both their parents and grandparents by attending a historically black college. They had each earned advanced degrees from Ivy League schools, Erica's in fine arts from Columbia, and Claude's in business from Yale. Even their backgrounds growing up had been similar. They each hailed from well-connected, old-money families and had been raised in affluent suburban neighborhoods—she in Maryland, he in Pennsylvania. As everyone had said, they were great together. At least on paper.

Erica had met Claude at a cocktail fund-raiser for a popular D.C. councilman who'd been running for reelection. She had attended the swank downtown affair at the urging of Ashley, a gregarious but pragmatic prosecutor who was in the know about all things social. “This event is not to be missed,” she'd raved to Erica. “Everyone who's anyone will be at Councilman Perry's fund-raiser, so put on your best dress and sexiest heels, 'cause, girl, that party is the place to be!”

Claude and Erica had locked eyes from the moment she entered the hotel's lavish ballroom. Her confident stride and natural beauty had instantly attracted him. From her shapely figure and curvy hips, which she swayed like a gentle breeze, to her radiant chestnut-brown skin, which looked dewy to the touch, to her full, kissable lips painted in burgundy blush, to the neatly trimmed shoulder-length bob she sported with fierce style, Erica had captivated him.

Even though they shared the same undergraduate alma mater, they'd never formally met before that night. They were a few years apart in age, so by the time Erica had entered WSSU as an eager freshman, Claude was a graduating senior and an established big man on campus.

Erica had heard all the buzz about Claude during her first week of classes. She and Ashley had been roommates, but they'd shared completely different views on the handsome upperclassman. Erica thought he was amazing, while Ashley thought he was, as she often smirked, a slick-ass phony. But despite Ashley's negative feelings about him, Erica managed to get her best friend to tag along with her to social events where Claude would be. Admiring him from afar became her hobby.

Claude had been a star quarterback, a university scholar, a popular fraternity hunk, and the object of desire in nearly every young coed's fantasies, as well as some of the faculty members'. A knee injury during an end-of-the-season play-off game had sidelined his hopes of an NFL career, but his brains and strategic planning landed him in business school and then led him straight into a lucrative career with a prestigious investment banking firm.

Initially, Claude hadn't had a clue as to who the gorgeous brown beauty was when he'd spied Erica gracefully sipping champagne by a buffet table with an attractive woman, who he later learned was Ashley—the only woman he'd ever met who couldn't be lulled by his charms. But Erica had known exactly who he was, and she was looking forward to becoming better acquainted.

Once Claude introduced himself, they exercised the standard Q & A etiquette that available singles in their social milieu practiced. They quickly established a connection, and despite not wanting to swoon over him, Erica was hooked at their first hello.

Claude was everything she had wanted in a man. His handsome good looks and commanding presence had ignited a smoldering flame inside her that hadn't been sparked since she'd ended her last relationship the previous year. He was well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and toned muscles, and looking at Claude was like experiencing a dash of charming wrapped in a bundle of sexiness. And although his college athletic days were well behind him, he was still in tip-top condition.

Now, finally meeting the famed Claude Richardson face-to-face, Erica knew she'd struck gold. She could also see that Claude was still a highly sought-after commodity, as was evidenced by the women sprinkled throughout the room who leveled envious stares in her direction each time he gently touched her arm during their conversation or smiled with interest as she spoke.

Erica liked the fact that Claude's moves were purposeful and deliberate, meant to demonstrate a point. His actions made it clear to her and everyone else at the event that she was the only woman who was getting his undivided attention. From that night forward, they were a couple. A power couple.

Claude's hotshot corporate bravado contrasted to and yet complimented Erica's easygoing entrepreneurial spirit. She took pleasure in the fact that her handsome boyfriend was a seasoned professional who was socially connected and well respected in the right circles. And for his part, Claude was proud to boast that his beautiful girlfriend was the accomplished owner of an upscale, ultrachic bath and body care boutique that catered to some of D.C.'s most sophisticated clientele.

The first few months of their courtship were so blissful that Erica thought she was living in a waking dream. Claude was kind, attentive, and the epitome of what a good boyfriend should be. Their sex life was strong, and their bond outside the bedroom was just as solid. Erica was in heaven!

They went to all the best restaurants, attended all the “happening” parties and social events, and held front-row seats at the most coveted performances at the Kennedy Center. They spent four out of seven nights a week together and were practically inseparable. Their relationship was quickly shaping up to resemble something that looked like it was leading toward the yellow brick road to marriage.

They had been dating for one year when Claude proposed to Erica at her favorite restaurant on the anniversary of the night they met. It was a traditional and very romantic candlelit moment. When Erica ordered her favorite dessert, a flawless two-and-a-half-carat diamond in a dazzling platinum setting accompanied the piece of cake, all served on an antique silver platter, surrounded by red rose petals. It took her only a half second to say yes, cementing their intent to walk down the aisle. Her father gave his blessings, her brother wished her luck, and her mother shed tears of joy when she told them her happy news.

But a curious thing happened shortly after Erica accepted his proposal. Slowly, very slowly, things began to change right before her eyes.

What she had initially thought was Claude's commanding presence eventually revealed itself to be a hugely inflated ego. What she'd thought was pride in his personal appearance was really his extreme vanity in motion. And even his thoughtfulness turned out to be nothing more than skilled manipulation and calculated strategy. He had pretended to be considerate, when all along his acts of kindness and generosity had been motivated by what he could get from them in return. But it wasn't until one of Claude's disgruntled exes sent her an anonymous e-mail detailing his shady ways, that Erica finally learned just how dishonest he really was.

She learned that his monthly out-of-town business meetings with one of his prime accounts had really been time spent in the company of an exotic dancer named Chocolate Kiss. The twenty-five-thousand-dollar engagement ring he'd supposedly bought her was really a complimentary gift he received from one of his wealthy international clients who was connected to the blood diamond trade. And the nephew he visited every so often down in North Carolina turned out to be the child he'd fathered ten years ago—the result of a one-night stand with an old college flame during a homecoming weekend.

After that explosive e-mail, Erica came to see that everything about Claude was a big mirage. Because of many disastrous relationships, she'd wanted a prince so badly that she put up with more than she should have, losing sight of the fact that she was a queen, deserving of much more. He was all show and flash on the outside, and as hollow as a drum within. And to her great disappointment, the very things that had drawn her to Claude turned into deficits that eventually bankrupted her feelings for him.