Page 15 of Breaking the Rules
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 façade 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 walkingtoward 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 nameand 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?”
