The Rules Page 4

  Ten minutes later, they returned to the spa’s parking lot, and Gavin eased into a space and turned off the engine.

  Terri turned to him and asked, “So what now?”

  “You thank me.”

  She stiffened, the sting of disappointment in her shoulders. The smile on Gavin’s face came off as lascivious, filled with presumption that a reward was forthcoming. He temporarily fooled her by opening doors and calling her a lady, but as she suspected from the beginning, he was like every other man—a typical male.

  “You give me a fat tip, detail my car, buy me two slices of pizza, and all of a sudden I owe you?” Terri asked, balling her hands into fists.

  Gavin reared back. “Excuse me?”

  “What should I do? Straddle you? Or would you prefer a blow job? Your wish is my command.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” His eyes widened and hands came up defensively. “What are you talking about?”

  “You wanted me to ‘thank you,’ right?” Her fingers made angry air quotes.

  How could he be such an insensitive brute? He offered to take care of her car and buy her dinner.

  “Usually, when someone says thank me, the other person just says ‘thank you.’” He spoke in a quietly reasonable voice, like someone trying to calm a hysterical person.

  Some of Terri’s indignant anger abated. “You meant it literally?”

  Gavin cocked his head at her. “I really need to know the kind of men you’re used to dealing with.” He ran a hand back and forth over his head. “I want to get to know you.”

  “Why me? You can have any woman you want.”

  “Obviously not. I can’t have you. I can’t even get you to give me your phone number.”

  “Why are you trying so hard?” Terri asked.

  “Why do you keep resisting?” he countered, resting an arm on the steering wheel and turning in her direction.

  Terri gnawed the side of her lip. “Look, I haven’t been serious with anyone in a long time. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

  “Neither am I.” His voice remained calm and even-toned.

  Terri cast an eye around the parking lot at a few people leaving the restaurant a couple of doors down and then crossed her arms over her chest.

  “If I go out with you one time, will you leave me alone?”

  “Question is, will you want to be left alone?”

  Terri lifted an eyebrow at him, and Gavin rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Fine. If you don’t have an incredible time on our date, I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

  “There are no stipulations. One time, that’s it. Take it or leave it.”

  Gavin frowned at her. Then a slow, triumphant smile came over his face, and Terri shifted uneasily in the seat, wondering if she should retract her offer. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  She hadn’t thought that far in advance and couldn’t think of any place at the moment. “Um…a nice restaurant. You pick.”

  He stared out the window and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. After some thought, he said, “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you. Are you working tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, but I’m free next Saturday.” Now that she’d agreed to go out with him, a tiny part of her already looked forward to the evening out.

  “No plans with Drake?”

  “Seriously?”

  “All right, all right, Dagwood.”

  Terri rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll pick you up next week.” Gavin opened his door and then looked over his shoulder at her. “Don’t move.”

  Remaining in place, Terri’s eyes followed him as he walked around the SUV to her side. She knew the routine now and appreciated this treatment. It made her feel special.

  Like a lady.

  Gavin opened the passenger door and she hopped onto the asphalt. He didn’t step back, standing very, very close. Her skin reacted to the close proximity of his—tightening, tingling. A glimmer of heat entered his eyes and she waited, breath suspended.

  Gavin handed her the keys and walked away. Disappointed, Terri stood in place for a minute. She didn’t know what to expect, but she hadn’t expected him to simply walk away.

  She trailed him around to the driver’s side. “Thank you…for everything,” she said.

  “My pleasure.” A lazy smile crossed his lips and filtered into his honey-colored eyes.

  “I guess you’ll need my number,” she said slowly.

  “I would love to have it.”

  She gave him the digits. “You’re not going to write it down?”

  Gavin tapped the side of his head. “I have a great memory,” he said, and recited it back to her. “So you’re really going out with me next week?”

  “I said I would.”

  The corners of his mouth turned upward, a sign of genuine pleasure. He opened the driver door and she climbed into the seat.

  “Good night, Terri Slade.”

  “Good night, Gavin Johnson.”

  He shut the door, patted the hood, and sauntered off.

  As she watched Gavin wind his way between the cars to his own vehicle, Terri recalled the promise he’d made in the salon when she told him she wouldn’t give him her number.

  I’m not leaving without it.

  Sure enough, he hadn’t.

  Chapter Six

  Terri exited her clean vehicle and closed the door. The Jimmy glowed under the lights of the parking lot of Stack Home Apartments. Most of the windows of the ten buildings were illuminated. The three-story brick building where she lived contained only efficiency apartments and she knew a few of her neighbors, but for the most part, everyone kept to themselves and it was fairly quiet.

  Trudging up the walkway, she yawned and rolled her shoulders. She entered the building and saw Mr. Raymond, a white-haired old man who moved in six months ago with a little Chihuahua named Max. Every evening before the sun went down, no matter the temperature, he and Max went for a walk around the complex. Mr. Raymond explained to her once that the exercise was good for his stiff joints.

  He pulled mail from his box and one of the envelopes fluttered to the ground.

  “I’ve got it.” Terri hurried over, swooped up the envelope, and handed it to him.

  “Thank you, Terri.” His face beamed with a friendly smile.

  “You’re welcome. How are you doing tonight, Mr. Raymond?”

  “Good, good. My grandson’s coming to visit me next weekend. Got himself a new girlfriend he wants to introduce me to.” He winked.

  “Uh-oh, must be serious.”

  “I think so.”

  “How’s Max? Still ruling the roost as if he’s the one paying the rent?”

  “Afraid so. One of these days, I’m going to show him who’s boss.”

  Terri laughed. “G’night.”

  “Good night.”

  Mr. Raymond shuffled off toward his apartment, and Terri climbed two flights of stairs to the third floor. Walking down the hall, rock music from the apartment across the corridor blared so loud it rattled the door.

  “He must be deaf,” she muttered, sympathizing with the renter next to him.

  The noisy neighbor was a weird little guy with shaggy hair and beady eyes who never looked her in the face when they passed each other in the hall, always directing his gaze at the floor.

  She opened the door to her efficiency and flicked on the light in the tiny space, and the scent of tropical fruit air freshener greeted her nose. Inhaling deeply, she smiled.

  Closing the door, she shut out the neighbor’s noise. She pulled across the chain, flipped the two deadbolts—one of which she had installed when she moved in—and turned the lock in the door. Home sweet home.

  For the first time in her life, she had her own place. It wasn’t much—hardly more than four hundred square feet—but her name was on the lease. Quite a step down from the life she used to live in an upscale condo in the middle of Buckhead, an affluent district in metro Atlanta.

  Brunch at
the Four Seasons on Fourteenth Street with the girlfriends of wealthy businessmen—a makeshift social club among a small group—and shopping at Lenox Square or specialty stores for the finest clothing and home furnishings had been the norm. Although she had moments when she missed that lifestyle, she didn’t miss the high cost that came with it. She lost herself, basically giving up her independence and self-esteem for a life that not only didn’t last, but made her very unhappy and ultimately hurt a lot of people.

  She was infinitely happier in her little efficiency. She paid the rent and bills here, and it felt damn good. White walls and white appliances helped to keep the small space from feeling too cramped. The off-white sofa, purchased at a second-hand furniture store, contained a punch of color from blue, striped, and red pillows. Opening the ivory curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment, she took a few steps and dropped her Gucci knock-off on the bed, which sat directly in front of a large window facing the street. The other window looked down into the parking lot.

  A five-drawer bureau took up part of the wall next to the door that led to the bathroom. On top was a collection of snow globes—six from the states she traveled through on her four-day drive from Atlanta to Washington; one from Arizona, gifted to her by Alannah; the other three came from visits to New York, Hawaii, and Los Angeles. One day she hoped to expand her collection to include globes from every state. Maybe even every country in the world.

  She turned on the lamp beside the bed and lifted the mattress to remove the white envelope stuffed with cash. She added the C-note from Gavin and wrote the date and amount on the outside of the envelope like always.

  “Six thousand, one hundred, fifty dollars.”

  She did a happy dance and shoved the money back under the mattress and dropped onto the bed. When she retrieved her phone from her purse, she flopped onto her back and dialed a number in Georgia. On the third ring, a female voice answered, and she prepared for the difficult conversation with her brother’s fiancée, Shanae.

  “Hey, it’s me,” Terri said in a deadpan voice, because being polite and friendly hadn’t worked in a long time.

  “What do you want?” Her future sister-in-law sounded annoyed, her usual tone of voice.

  “To talk to my brother,” Terri said between her teeth. “Is he in?”

  “No.”

  Terri bit back a curse at the short answer. Shanae’s attitude was a constant source of exasperation. Getting information from her always meant going through a game of verbally pulling teeth.

  She could hear Shanae popping her gum. The annoying habit sounded even more annoying over the phone. If she wasn’t her brother’s fiancée and the mother of his child, Terri would have cursed her out a long time ago, but she had made a promise to her brother that she would make an effort to be nice to her. Shanae, however, didn’t have the same desire to be cordial except when Damian was within earshot. Then she turned on the charm, voice dripping with sugar as she hey girl-ed Terri and spouted lies like It’s so good to hear from you.

  “Where is he?” Terri asked.

  “He at work.”

  In addition to operating a crane during the day—a job that paid very well, Damian worked most nights at a warehouse to put away extra money. Not only to take care of his family, but also because with his wedding to Shanae coming up next year, he wanted to give his fiancée the wedding of her dreams. Something he could have done if not for Terri.

  Shanae blamed her for the financial crisis created when Damian’s investments—investments he’d entered at Terri’s urging—bottomed out. At the time, Terri assumed they were all legitimate, but later learned her boyfriend, Talon Cyrenci, had set up shell corporations and laundered money through established businesses—car washes, nightclubs, and flipping real estate.

  A lot of people lost money, including Shanae’s parents and friends Terri could no longer face.

  “Anything else?” Shanae asked, not bothering to keep the impatience out of her voice.

  “Is Little Bit up?” Terri’s asked, referring to her two-year-old niece, LaShay.

  “She sleep.”

  “Oh.” Of course Little Bit would be asleep. Atlanta was three hours ahead, which meant it was almost midnight there. “Well, give her a kiss for me and tell Damian I called.”

  “Yeah.”

  Terri didn’t even know why she bothered. Half the time, Shanae didn’t pass on the messages. If Damian didn’t get a cell phone soon, she was going to get one for him.

  “Bye, Shanae.” Before the other woman could respond, Terri hung up the phone.

  She reclined against the pillows and stared at the white curtain cutting her apartment in two, recalling fond memories of growing up in the little yellow house with the green shutters on Washington Avenue. The year her parents passed away—her father from a heart attack and her mother from complications after surgery—she and her brother moved in with her mother’s mother, Grandma Elisabeth. Her grandmother kept them until they entered high school, when a stroke forced her into a wheelchair. Although still lucid, she was unable to care for them any longer.

  Terri and Damian were shuffled among family members for months, including an elderly aunt whose younger boyfriend used her financially—something all the family could see except her. When he emptied her bank account and ran off, she couldn’t recover. She ignored the eviction notices, and one day, they came home to find their belongings being picked apart in the street by neighbors. They scattered like vultures chased away from a carcass when she and her family pulled up in the old station wagon. Even worst, what was left had been soaked through from a brief rainstorm that flashed through the city hours before.

  They salvaged what they could—a few clothes, a couple of pots and pans so damaged no one wanted them. They lost most everything, but Terri hadn’t cried until the shocking sight of her prized Charlotte’s Web—an old, rare copy given to her by her grandmother—destroyed by rain and torn apart by trampling feet. At that young age—no more than fourteen years old—she vowed to never be a victim again.

  After her first love failed, she saw Talon as a prince, with his cool green eyes, thick black curls swooping down over his forehead, and charming wit. But she learned the hard way that he was not royalty.

  So she decided to stop wishing for a man to save her, and resolved that she would save herself.

  ****

  Gavin strolled into breakfast at his mother’s home. The formal dining room contained a long table that seated ten and could be expanded for extra seating. Two chandeliers hung overhead and offered additional elegance in the ornately decorated room.

  Although he had rented his own place, he sometimes drove over to eat breakfast with his mother. Considering his wild night in Las Vegas, which took an interesting turn when a member of his party showed up at the suite with five strippers and enough vodka to kill a horse, he should be tired. Yet, he felt buoyed and refreshed.

  Constance Johnson sat at the head of the table with a half-eaten plate of eggs benedict, grilled asparagus, and pieces of thinly sliced berries fanned out on one side of the plate.

  “Morning.” Gavin kissed his mother’s cheek. Her face, a deep color that reminded him of rich chocolate, was surprisingly free of wrinkles for a woman her age.

  She stopped in the middle of her conversation with his brother, Xavier, who was already dressed for work in a crisp navy suit and tie, his long dreadlocks pulled back in a low-hanging ponytail.

  “Good morning, dear.” Constance sipped her tea. “I’m surprised to see you this morning. I understand you and your friends took one of the planes to Las Vegas and did quite a bit of partying this weekend.”

  His mother had a way of sliding in comments without directly stating disapproval. Unlike his deceased father, who had been direct in all his conversations—at times, brutally so.

  Gavin held his response as a member of the household staff, a young woman named Alicia with golden brown skin and a calm demeanor, filled his cup with coffee and pla
ced two sugar cubes on the saucer beside him.

  “I didn’t want to miss breakfast with my favorite lady.” He flashed one of his grins and Constance shook her head, a smile of pleasure on her lips.

  He had taken his friends—rather, his entourage—to Las Vegas with him. Wherever he went, they went, and once he’d recovered enough to walk again, they started hitting all the hot spots in Seattle, taking short trips to California to dine at celebrity hangouts like Nobu and Tavern, and occasionally flying to Vegas or New York to party.

  Compared to some, he had a small group. A male assistant answered his phone and maintained his schedule. He’d had a female assistant at one time, but after sleeping with her, their work relationship got messy and ever since, he only hired men. His two trainers were working with other clients at the moment, but whenever he was ready to start training for another sport, he could call them. They prepared him for any extreme activity he chose to tackle and brought in consultants as needed.

  A personal chef traveled with him at all times, and even when Gavin wasn’t around, made sure his friends ate hearty meals from the freshest ingredients and drank the finest wines available. Then there was what his family called his “hype team,” three guys who didn’t really have a job, so he called them assistants. One he’d met in college, the other two surfing in Hawaii. Their job was usually to get in touch with women on his behalf, run errands, and in general co-sign any behavior he chose to indulge in. His family really, really didn’t like the hype team.

  Constance cut into a piece of asparagus and ate it before speaking again. “I have a busy day today. All week, to be honest. I don’t know how I’ll fit everything in. I have to find something to wear to the Farnsworth wedding this weekend. I can’t believe I let the time creep up on me like this. Then I have to look at more fabric swatches for the house in Nice.”