his thoughts. He had to remind himself of who he was and not who he wasnât. He wasnât the knucklehead whoâd dropped out of high school his eleventh grade year. He wasnât the irresponsible player whoâd run through women like springwater. He wasnât the stubborn street hustler whoâd almost gotten himself killed over some rocks in a back alley. Those lowly days were long behind him. He was a new man. He was determined to get his contracting license and start his own business. He was studying late each night to earn his GED. He was a dedicated father. He was a good son. He was a loyal friend. And he, too, had high standards and expectations.
He loved a challenge, but to be with a woman like Stanford 145, he knew he had to be correct and precise in his approach.
Just as he began to believe he had a chance with her, something happened that further erased his insecurities. He glimpsed at Stanford 145 and saw that she was looking at him, too. She tried to hide the fact that she was checking him out from the corner of her eye, but he caught her red-handed.
Then, suddenly, just as sheâd dropped her smile out in the hallway and turned her attention back to her phone, she moved her eyes away from his direction and concentrated on the instructions being given by the court clerk.
Whatâs up with this woman? he thought. She was quickly becoming a puzzle that he wanted to solve.
Bringing his mind back to the present, Jerome turned his large truck onto his crowded street in search of a parking space. Finding a place to park on a Saturday afternoon was like trying to find a doughnut at a fashion show. It was damn near impossible. After securing a spot around the corner from his building, Jerome walked up to his unit. Once he reached his door, he slipped his key into the lock and went inside his apartment.
Standing in the middle of his living room, looking around at all 650 square feet of his two-bedroom apartment, Jerome wondered what the woman in red would think of his living conditions. âI know her crib is tight,â he said to himself. But just as heâd done yesterday in court, he took a deep breath and realigned his thoughts. Right now he couldnât focus on Stanford 145, because he needed to get ready to see his son.
Jamelâs party was set to start in another three hours, giving him just enough time to make a tuna sandwich, take a shower, grab a quick nap, and get dressed before heading out the door.
The thought of having a teenage son made Jeromeâs chest puff with pride, especially given that Jamel was growing into such a fine young man. Even though Kelisha was loud as hell and as obnoxious as a pit bull, Jerome had to give her credit; she was a good mother to their son, and her demeanor hadnât rubbed off on him. At thirteen, Jamel was more responsible and mature than some adults Jerome knew. He made good grades at the private school he attended on scholarship, he was respectful to authority figures, and he was kind to his peers. Jamel was the kid he wished he had been at that age.
Twenty minutes later and fresh from the shower, Jerome set the alarm clock beside his bed and settled in for a nap. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about the surprised look that he knew would come to Jamelâs face when he opened the gift heâd gotten him, his very own checkbook, linked to an account with his name on it that had $250 as its balance.
âThatâs my boy,â Jerome whispered to himself. He turned over, doubled his thin pillow beneath his head, and closed his eyes, preparing to drift off into the clouds. As his thoughts faded to a faraway sleep land, the last thing his waking mind remembered was seeing a beautiful woman standing before him in a bright red dress.
Chapter 9
I t was early afternoon, and Erica was immersed in her usual Sunday routine, sitting at her desk, going over paperwork so she could get a jump on the week ahead. She was
He loved a challenge, but to be with a woman like Stanford 145, he knew he had to be correct and precise in his approach.
Just as he began to believe he had a chance with her, something happened that further erased his insecurities. He glimpsed at Stanford 145 and saw that she was looking at him, too. She tried to hide the fact that she was checking him out from the corner of her eye, but he caught her red-handed.
Then, suddenly, just as sheâd dropped her smile out in the hallway and turned her attention back to her phone, she moved her eyes away from his direction and concentrated on the instructions being given by the court clerk.
Whatâs up with this woman? he thought. She was quickly becoming a puzzle that he wanted to solve.
Bringing his mind back to the present, Jerome turned his large truck onto his crowded street in search of a parking space. Finding a place to park on a Saturday afternoon was like trying to find a doughnut at a fashion show. It was damn near impossible. After securing a spot around the corner from his building, Jerome walked up to his unit. Once he reached his door, he slipped his key into the lock and went inside his apartment.
Standing in the middle of his living room, looking around at all 650 square feet of his two-bedroom apartment, Jerome wondered what the woman in red would think of his living conditions. âI know her crib is tight,â he said to himself. But just as heâd done yesterday in court, he took a deep breath and realigned his thoughts. Right now he couldnât focus on Stanford 145, because he needed to get ready to see his son.
Jamelâs party was set to start in another three hours, giving him just enough time to make a tuna sandwich, take a shower, grab a quick nap, and get dressed before heading out the door.
The thought of having a teenage son made Jeromeâs chest puff with pride, especially given that Jamel was growing into such a fine young man. Even though Kelisha was loud as hell and as obnoxious as a pit bull, Jerome had to give her credit; she was a good mother to their son, and her demeanor hadnât rubbed off on him. At thirteen, Jamel was more responsible and mature than some adults Jerome knew. He made good grades at the private school he attended on scholarship, he was respectful to authority figures, and he was kind to his peers. Jamel was the kid he wished he had been at that age.
Twenty minutes later and fresh from the shower, Jerome set the alarm clock beside his bed and settled in for a nap. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about the surprised look that he knew would come to Jamelâs face when he opened the gift heâd gotten him, his very own checkbook, linked to an account with his name on it that had $250 as its balance.
âThatâs my boy,â Jerome whispered to himself. He turned over, doubled his thin pillow beneath his head, and closed his eyes, preparing to drift off into the clouds. As his thoughts faded to a faraway sleep land, the last thing his waking mind remembered was seeing a beautiful woman standing before him in a bright red dress.
Chapter 9
I t was early afternoon, and Erica was immersed in her usual Sunday routine, sitting at her desk, going over paperwork so she could get a jump on the week ahead. She was
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