Page 7 of Breaking the Rules

SEVEN

The sun crept into the boat, pulling him from his comatose state.

Part of him expected to find Savanhi on the other side of the bed.

Instead, he found a cool place and his phone ringing in the distance.

His head was pounding as a result of drinking and smoking with Sincere prior to the party.

A party that he missed most of the night due to being lost in the depths of Savanhi.

The thought of her making his dick swell caused him to inhale the scent of her left behind on the sheets.

Noble couldn’t recall when she left or how fast he’d passed out after she’d made every nerve ending in his body fire off.

As he swiped his hand over his face, he groaned with the bitter recall that there was no vested interest. There was no reaching out and calling her back over to make a mess of him again.

There was no trying to find her. That was the rule – that was the agreement.

But he was grateful she’d taken the edge off.

This had been the first morning he wasn’t focused on the turmoil of his life.

Lifting his six-foot-six naked body and dragging from the bed, he roamed to where he’d left his clothes the night before. Every trace of Savanhi, gone. Noble fished through his pants to find his phone.

Carl called seven times already, but still, nothing from his sister or his niece. He made a mental note after this meeting to swing by and find out what the hell was going on.

“What’s up?” Noble tiredly asked, answering the phone.

“How hard did you party last night? I didn’t see anything online,” Carl stated, surprise in his voice.

Noble smirked, thankful that Sincere actually used his brain for once. “No phone policy. You calling me like I owe you money.”

“If you don’t get your ass to the Royals, I will be calling you like you owe me money,” Carl stated.

“What?”

“You hard of hearing? The Royals want you! Welcome home, baby!” Carl cheered.

“You lyin’ dawg,” Nobel stated in disbelief.

“I’m not. Your meeting is in an hour, wipe the crust out of your eyes and let’s go!” Carl punctuated his statement with a hand clap. “Or do I need to come get you?”

“Nah, I’ll get a ride. I got to pull up on Kymber after this meeting.”

“Aight. Look alive, seventy-five million all guaranteed. Get your ass up there.”

They ended the call, Noble dressed and made his way out of the boat and up the beach.

The morning air of L.O. welcomed him home in a salty, warmth he’d been missing.

As the breeze danced around him, his heart quaked.

The breeze didn’t waft the softness of cherry and shea butter into his nostrils.

There weren’t any waves of thick black hair flying about.

Not even the soft laugh of the woman he’d gotten acquainted with for a night.

Ironically, he almost expected himself to miss Mecole.

He didn’t. He wasn’t mourning the love lost. He wasn’t mourning what could’ve been.

He mourned the death of his pride and ego.

The facade of thinking he was loved and respected more than he was.

Savanhi was right about this feeling like death.

There was a part of him dying. A part of him uncovered that was worth fencing off from anyone else.

No more love. No more expectations. No more investments. Simple rules, but as dire as breathing.

Passing the set of chairs he’d discovered her on the night before, his eyes caught a glimmer in the sand. Noble paused his stride to reach down to pick up the object glistening for his attention.

“Damnit,” he huffed to himself. The diamond stud belonged to Savanhi.

While he ravished her body, he noticed one lobe free of the earring.

He dropped it into his pocket and kept walking toward the house.

The no-contact clause they agreed to was going to be broken, unless he held on to it as a souvenir.

“Nigga, you always find a way to complicate shit.”

Strolling up the stairs, through the backyard, around the pool area, and through the house, Sincere’s housekeeping staff was putting the house back together like the party never happened.

Finally, in the guest bedroom, he showered and dressed for the day.

The JoyRide was ordered, and a text sent to his sister after calling, and the phone went straight to voicemail.

Deuce: When I come kick your door in, I don’t want to hear shit about it. Call me back

Within the hour, he was walking into the Royals’ front office. Being greeted by Michael, the owner, and Mr. Grand Slam himself, Kendrick Saxon.

“Noble, welcome back,” Kendrick was the first to greet him with a handshake and a brotherly embrace.

Since college, the men had been opponents on the field and associates off. Now, being teammates opened up more possibilities for a relationship to be cultivated. Men needed other men with good heads on their shoulders, like iron sharpened iron.

“It’s good to be back. You lookin’ good, boy,” Noble stated, releasing him.

“Yo’ ass still ugly,” Kendrick joked, patting his shoulder. “Michael Stern, owner and chairman of the Royals. Michael, Noble Paulson Jr.”

Michael extended his hand for a firm handshake. “Pleasure meeting you. Kendrick has been pushing us to get you for the last year. After that All-Star game, he’s been on our heads.”

Noble shook his hand and smiled the charismatic smile. “Saxon is getting old, that’s why.”

The two shared a chuckle and started toward the conference room where Carl was in a lively conversation with the team manager. Upon entering, the attention turned from Carl to Noble.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Carl spoke.

Carl was one of the best additions to Noble’s team.

He’d always been able to sell water to a whale.

A hustler. When Noble got drafted, he took Carl with him.

Alongside his father, the two learned how to broker deals, get endorsements, and keep Noble’s image clean.

Despite Noble being a product of the inner city of Los Oceania with gang affiliation.

The world saw the upstanding family man he was.

They never got wind of his crash-out mentality until recently.

Baseball saved him. Noble was a boy filled with anger, and it needed to be expressed in other ways.

His father wasn’t going to have his son become another number, so he put a bat in his hand and taught him how to accept his losses with his chin up and his chest out.

“Relax,” Noble droned. “I’m just happy to be here.”

“We’re happy to have you. We’ve been following your career and hoping that the Mavericks would take their talons out of you so we could experience the greatness of Noble Paulson,” Jerry, the club manager, spoke. “Now that you’re home, it’s only right to roll out the red carpet for you.”

“Nah, I can walk on concrete barefoot,” Noble stated, subtly reminding the room that’s how him, Carl, and Sincere used to play baseball. Barefoot, in the middle of the street, hitting balls over houses and into abandoned buildings. The batting cages and cleats were a privilege.

“How about on the royal blue turf,” Michael spoke up. “If you’re ready to be a Royal, we can make it happen.”

“I’ve been ready to be a Royal.”

Despite the red heart tattooed behind his ear, Noble’s dream had always been to wear the royal blue jersey with his name and number stitched onto the back of it.

Seeing it laid out on the table next to the hat and contract made his eyes prick with tears.

The only person missing was his father. Noble Sr. was happy when the Mavericks picked his boy, but to see him fully developed and honing his craft, and now a royal, would have made his heart swell.

Noble knew he would have been proud of him.

None of this would have been possible if it weren’t for the man who sacrificed the things he wanted in life to be a present father and raise his kids.

Their mother walked out shortly after Kymber was born.

She vanished in the wind and his father did what needed to be done.

Now, Noble held the torch and would do everything in his power to be that for his sister, niece, and any children he would have in the future – if the possibility presented itself again.

The contract was signed, the photos were taken, and Noble found himself roaming around the front office, immersing himself in the history of the Royals.

They’d started off as a negro league team.

Established in the forties, in 1960, it became an MLB team and kept the spirit of the men who created it.

Just like the city itself, the Royals believed in leadership, dedication, and perseverance.

All the values his father bestowed upon him, planted in him. That, and always fight for your respect. No one can take anything from you that you didn’t give them.

The buzz from his phone grabbed his attention. He grabbed it from the suit pocket, seeing Kymber’s name. He answered without delay.

“Look who got some sense,” Noble stated. “Swore you wanted me to kick the door off the hinges.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been working all these crazy hours trying to get this café up and going. I saw the news! I’m so proud of you!” Kymber cheered.

Noble let a smile spread over his face. “Thanks. You need anything?”

“I’m good. I know we’re supposed to meet up for your birthday breakfast, can we arrange for it tomorrow morning? By then, the house won’t be a disaster, and I can show you the restaurant.”

“I don’t care about that mess you got goin’ on. Where is babygirl?”

“With the sitter. You might not care but I do. I promise, tomorrow morning at eleven? Tonight, let Sincere get you into some good trouble."

"I've had enough of trouble," Noble grumbled.

"I told you that girl was no good,” Kymber huffed, before a loud crash sounded off. “Damnit. I swear! Noble, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you. Celebrate yourself. I’ll have Areli call you this afternoon when I pick her up.”

“You better. I’m not even playing. She hasn’t called me all week. I don’t like that shit, Kym,” he replied.

“I hate to see how you’re going to be when you have kids,” Kymber laughed. “Just like daddy.”

“That ain’t too bad. I’ll see you tomorrow. You need me before then, call, aight?”

“I will, love you!” Kymber ended the call, leaving Noble alone again.

The suddenness of loneliness was making him search for what he couldn’t have.

“That’s some impressive shit, huh?” Kendrick’s voice broke Noble’s growing obsession.

He turned slightly to find Kendrick to his left. “It is. All this history, to be a part of it now. Feels like…”

“A sigh of relief. How are you for real?” Kendrick posed.

Noble drew in a breath and hummed. “I ain’t walking around with a broken heart. A part of me knew I was moving through the motions with her to fulfill a timeline or whatever. The part that’s broken is my damn pride. The ego. The arrogance of it all. I’m embarrassed as fuck.”

Kendrick nodded. “I can feel that. You know I’ve never told nobody this, but Yandi lost a child and left me. Yeah, my heart hurt because I breathe for that woman but my pride. Man, that shit about killed me.”

“You and Yandi are goals for real. I don’t think I’m going to put myself in that position again. I can’t risk my livelihood for some ideas I have for my heart. That shit got to go on ice.”

“You say that now and then someone walks in and in one glance breaks all the rules you got. I give it a year.”

“Get yo’ ass away from me,” Noble joked, slightly pushing his teammate away. “Don’t put that on me. I’m cool.”

“I hear you. Listen, tomorrow night I’m going to host a dinner for you at my spot, bring your team, meet the team, chop it up.

Tuesday morning, we’re back to work. We got a community day on Friday before hitting the road for ten games.

All that broken pride, back it up and leave it on the road.

You gon’ be aight,” Kendrick stated, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Plus, I can’t be the only one knocking that shit out the park. ”

“I got you, dawg.”

“Bet. Go celebrate.”

Noble enjoyed a day around the city alone before returning back to Sincere’s spot. After a much-needed nap plagued by Savanhi’s moans and soft touch, he was up rummaging the kitchen for something to eat.

The weed smoke greeted Noble before Sincere did. “That nigga Royal!”

Noble chuckled. “Uh huh. Which means tomorrow, I’m finna get the fuck out your spot.”

“Stay as long as you need. I hit the road Wednesday to wrap this tour up. Ain’t nobody gonna be here. I heard you enjoyed the boat. My nigga.”

Noble chuckled. “Wasn’t nothing.”

“Yeah, whatever, nigga.” Sincere waved him off and added. “Got the private room at Tempt booked. We rolling at midnight. The chef is coming in a few.”

“Rap got you bougie as hell, huh? Can’t watch the regular strippers on the regular floor?”

Sincere leaned on the counter. “Honestly, it exposed me to a world beyond L.O. I mean, the city is cool, it made a fly nigga like me. But to see the world, nothing tops that. I don’t have shit else to spend my money on, might as well enjoy this shit.”

“Who was shorty with all the tattoos?”

Noble watched Sincere stifle a smile. “Lawryn. She owns a tattoo shop in The Village. Did a few of my pieces. She ain’t my usual type.”

“Yeah, ‘cause her ass seems calm. You like that crazy shit. What the fuck you doin’ with her?”

“Enjoying her vibe from time to time. I can’t really dive too deep into that though.”

Noble rose his brows in question.

“Dame...”

“Ah fuck. That’s her nigga?”

“Her brother. Ain’t trying to touch that for real. Gang shit always outweighs whatever we think we need.”

Noble scoffed in agreeance. “Gang shit had me thinking if I was married by thirty and had some kids I was living for real. That I made it out without being another number who was gunned down in the street, family carrying my hearse and shit. We see what kind of bullshit that was.”

“You different though,” Sincere pointed out. “You just need to get you something that doesn’t want what’s in the bank, just you. So when it comes, don’t fuck it up.”

“I hear you.”

“Good, ‘cause you got a habit of trying to be me,” Sincere joked.

“Fuck you,” Noble laughed. “Ain’t nobody wearing jorts and hard bottoms or fighting these crazy ass women. I’m good on it.”