Breaking All My Rules (15 page)

Chapter 18

E
rica returned Jerome's stare, trying to figure out if she had offended him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable with my questions. I just want to know more about you, and our time is limited.”

“During court hours it is. But we don't have to limit ourselves to communicating here, unless that's what you want.”

“It depends on what I find out.”

“You're a straight shooter. I like that.”

Erica smiled, fiddling with her napkin. “Okay, let's talk.”

Just as their entire lunch conversation yesterday had centered around Erica, Jerome took the spotlight today. “I'm a sanitation worker,” he began, “which means I pick up people's trash. I have a route in Northwest. My job isn't glamorous, but it's honest work and it pays the bills. I dropped out of high school in eleventh grade. It was a stupid thing to do and one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. But I'm about to get my GED next month, and I'm studying for the test now.”

Erica continued to listen as Jerome emptied the contents of his life onto the table. She learned that he had a thirteen-year-old son who was an honor student and the pride of his life. As he'd alluded to yesterday, he was also laying the groundwork to start JK Contracting. And since his son was also gifted with his hands, Jerome hoped one day to pass the business along to him.

Erica sat patiently, listening and nodding, but not once did she interrupt or make a further inquiry as Jerome spoke. She didn't want to be one of those high-minded, judgmental, bourgeois black folk who looked down their nose at those who weren't members of the talented tenth. But as she discovered more about Jerome's background, and in particular, his current life, she realized that certain parts of his existence made her uncomfortable.

She'd always dated a certain type of man, and Jerome definitely wasn't it. Every man she'd ever been involved with had had a bachelor's degree at minimum. Their work uniforms consisted of a suit and tie, not coveralls with their name spelled out on the upper left-hand side of their chest. And the only rental properties they'd had any interest in were the ones they owned and leased to their tenants. Then there was the drug thing. Erica knew that a couple of her college boyfriends had smoked weed in their off-campus apartments, but they'd never been involved in the selling and distribution side of it, and for her part, she'd never personally ingested an illegal substance in her life.

But here sat Jerome, a high school dropout who picked up trash for a living, rented a small apartment in a bad neighborhood, and happened to be an ex-drug dealer with what she gleaned was a little baby mama drama thrown in to round out the list of no-no's she'd always avoided.

It was a lot for Erica to digest at once. Dating a man like Jerome Kimbrough went against all her rules and all the advice her father had given her about men. She generally followed Joseph's advice because he had always been a loving father, an excellent provider, and had warned her against becoming involved with the wrong type of man.

She knew that if she sketched out Jerome's life on a sheet of paper, her parents—who had always supported her, no matter the situation—would ball it up and toss it in the wastebasket. And her brother, Nelson, would gently ask her if she was going through something, and then recommend a professional whom she could talk to. Even Ashley, who was already shaky on him, would ask her if she'd officially lost her mind!

“So, that's who I am in a nutshell,” Jerome said, ending his mini biography.

Erica nodded in silence.

“Listen, you're a straight shooter, and so am I, so I'll cut right to it. I know I'm not anything like the type of dudes you're used to dating. I don't have a fancy degree, a prestigious job, or a big house. But I'm a hard-workin' brothah, tryin' to start my own business so I can build a better life for me and my son. I've made my share of mistakes that have come back to bite me, and I accept responsibility for them.”

Erica nodded again but still didn't say anything.

Jerome gave her a slight smile and then shook his head.

“What?” Erica finally said.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” His voice grew quieter as he spoke. “I think you're smart, talented, sincere, and very beautiful. You're the kind of woman that any man would be proud to have by his side. I already told you that I'm feelin' you and I'd like us to go out, so unless you have a man you haven't told me about, either you're feelin' me, too, or you're not. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that?” Erica said, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

“Yeah, it is. A woman knows within the first five minutes of conversation with a brothah whether she's gonna give him a chance. We've been talking way longer than that, so I know you've already made up your mind.” Jerome paused and leaned forward in his chair, cutting the distance between them in half. “I don't want to waste your time or mine, so let me know what it's gonna be, 'cause I'm putting the ball in your court.”

Erica had to admit that Jerome was right, although it had actually taken her ten minutes to finally make up her mind instead of five. She leaned forward over their small table, removing the last bit of space between them, until they were close enough to graze each other's lips. “Why don't you call me tonight so we can continue this conversation?”

 

 

Erica paced back and forth in her galley kitchen with her phone pressed tightly against her ear. “What did you find out?” she asked Ashley.

“Your boy had a little trouble back in the day, but for the last decade or so he seems to have cleaned up his act.”

“Drugs, right?”

“You already knew?”

“Yes, we had a long talk during lunch. He told me that he'd done things he wasn't proud of and that he'd sold drugs at one point. How serious was it? Did he spend time in prison?” Erica was hoping to Jesus he hadn't.

“He had two separate arrests for possession of an illegal substance about twelve years ago, but neither resulted in convictions. My guess is that those drugs bought him a damn good lawyer who got him off.”

“I see.”

“Then there's the aggravated assault and murder charges.”

“What!”
Erica nearly screamed. She stopped pacing the floor and leaned against her granite countertop. “Why didn't you tell me that first? Oh, my God!”

“Girl, calm down,” Ashley said. “The charges weren't
against
him. They were made
by
him.”

Erica held her hand to her mouth as she listened.

“About eleven years ago he filed a stay-away order against a Tawanna Jones, and then six months later he filed aggravated assault and attempted murder charges against the same woman. Seems she shot him.”

“Good Lord in heaven.”

“I know, and get a load of this. The report says he was hospitalized for nine days with a gunshot wound to the chest that missed his heart by just one inch. That woman was trying to kill him. Interestingly, though, there's not a lot in the report about the particulars surrounding what brought on the attack. I'm thinking it was probably a lovers' quarrel, and shit went south fast.”

“Damn!” Jerome had been through more than Erica had thought. “Does the report say anything else?”

“No, not the official report. But the unauthorized one I was able to get has the real four-one-one. Seems that Mr. Jerome used to be a street hustler, who, as you know, ran drugs. But it looks like he ran women even harder. The report links him to too many women to follow up on. He's had his fair amount of hood drama. The whole shooting incident smells of it. But I have to say in his defense that it looks like he's left that life behind. He makes regular child support payments, he visits his parents once a week, and last year he even received an employee-of-the-month award.... Ain't that impressive?”

Erica could hear the sarcasm nestled inside Ashley's last comment, but she chose to ignore it. “How did you find out all this stuff?”

Ashley laughed. “I told you, my guy Sam is good. He knows people in high and low places.”

“Well, at least I have a better understanding of his life now. Thanks for doing this for me, Ash. I really appreciate it.”

“You're not seriously still interested in this guy, are you?”

Erica was prepared for Ashley's skepticism, and she had to admit that on the surface, if Ashley had met someone like Jerome, caution would be her advice to her friend, too. Drama had always been a part of both their relationships in the past, but never did their romances involve drugs or violence. Erica also knew that Ashley was probably less than impressed with Jerome's profession, as well.

But Erica knew this wasn't anyone's decision to make except her own. She'd allowed Ashley to work her up into a frenzy last night, and as it turned out, it had all been for naught. So she decided she wouldn't let that happen again.

“Yes, I'm very interested in him,” Erica replied. “As a matter of fact, I need to go because I'm expecting Jerome's call any minute.”

Erica walked up to her bedroom, changed into her nightgown, and relaxed under her soft sateen sheets. She was trying not to feel upset about her conversation with Ashley, because, after all, she knew her friend wanted only the best for her and was concerned about her emotional safety. But sometimes Ashley got on her last nerve with her elitist attitude. “Of all people, she should know better,” Erica mumbled out loud.

Although Ashley and her immediate family were nearly thirty years removed from the housing project out of which they'd ascended to the affluence of suburban Prince George's County, Maryland's gated Hill Crest Manor, a large number of her relatives still lived in the hood, from D.C. to the Bronx. So given Ashley's background, Erica found it ironic that her friend would look down on anyone, in any capacity.

As she lay in her comfortable bed, waiting for Jerome's call, her phone chimed from her nightstand. Her heart beat fast and her lips snaked into a sunny smile when she looked at the time on her digital clock, which read nine on the dot! Jerome had called right at the very moment they'd agreed upon earlier that afternoon. Erica saw this as a very good sign and was glad he was already becoming more time conscious.

She reached over and clicked on her phone. “Hey! You called right on time.”

“I did?”

Erica's eyes widened when she heard Claude's voice on the other end.
That's what I get for not looking at the damn caller ID before I answer the phone!
“Claude, why are you calling me?”

“Well, it's nice to hear your voice, too,” he said.

Erica sat silently, waiting for him to answer her question.

“I've been thinking about you since I saw you at Vidalia last Friday. I can't get you out of my mind, Erica. Have you been thinking about me?”

“I don't mean to repeat myself, but again, why are you calling me?”

“I just told you. I've been thinking about you, and I miss you.”

“Try thinking about your girlfriend.”

“She's not my girlfriend. We've been on a few dates, but that's all. It's not even like that.”

“Oh, just like the little chocolate treat you had on the side wasn't like that, and the son you passed off as your nephew wasn't like that, either?”

“I was wrong for that, and I said and did a lot of hurtful things that I shouldn't have. But let's put all that behind us and look forward.”

Again, Erica refrained from words, letting her silence speak her response.

“Erica, I still love you, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive me and put the past behind us, where it belongs, I know we can build a great life together.”

Erica was growing more suspicious by the minute. Claude wasn't the begging type, because his ego was simply too huge to entertain the thought. So she wondered why in the world he wanted them to get back together, especially since despite what he'd said, he had a new woman in his life who had an important job with an even more important company.

Erica let out a deep sigh. “I'm not interested in the past or building a future with you. What we had ended a long time before we actually broke up.”

“
We
didn't break up. It was you who broke up with me.”

“I thought you said what was in the past was in the past. You lie so much, you don't even know what you're saying or doing.”

“Why are you trying to make this difficult?”

Erica was starting to get frustrated. “Listen, I'm not sure what the real reason is for this call, but whatever the case, I'm not interested.” And with that, she hung up the phone.

She was pissed that Claude had had the nerve to call and sour her evening. But more than that, she was disappointed that the clock was ticking and she still hadn't heard from Jerome.

Chapter 19

J
erome rushed through his front door in such a hurry, he nearly stumbled over his own feet. He sat his heavy tool belt on the floor at the edge of the living room, which led back to his bedroom, and then quickly removed his work boots. He had to be fast because he was running late. It was almost 10:00 p.m., and he was supposed to have called Erica an hour ago.

After he and Erica had finished lunch, they'd exchanged phone numbers. They both had commitments that evening—she needed to check in at Opulence and he needed to repair a leaky faucet for a client—so they agreed to talk at 9:00 p.m.. “I'll call you,” he'd told her.

Jerome had every intention of calling Erica at their agreed-upon time, but he ran into unexpected problems. Instead of repairing the faucet, he had to replace it, which required a trip to Home Depot. But the store he went to didn't have the style or model his client wanted, so he had to go to another location, then double back to his client's house to finish the work. Then Jamel called and talked to him until he arrived at his apartment building. He hadn't realized it was 9:55 p.m. until he parked his truck and looked at the time displayed on the dashboard.

With speed equivalent to light, Jerome undressed, took a quick shower, and then dialed Erica's number.

“Hello.” She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, I'm sorry I'm a little late.”

“A little? You were supposed to call me over an hour ago.”

“I know, and I'm really sorry. The repair job took a lot longer than I had expected. Then my son called, and we had to discuss a few things. As soon as I hung up with him, I walked through my door, took a shower, and then called you.”

After they got off to a rocky start this morning, their lunch conversation had helped them rebound and had put them at ease. But now, hearing the disappointment in Erica's voice, Jerome wondered whether they were headed right back to how their day had begun. He definitely wasn't interested in revisiting that uncomfortable place.

He knew that calling Erica an hour later than he'd said he would wasn't a good way to kick off their first phone conversation. He had always tried to be a man of his word, but when his word involved promptness, he battled a challenge he had yet to conquer. He wished he could see Erica's pretty face right now. That way he'd know exactly what she was thinking. He'd already discovered that her feelings rested behind the glimmer of her brown eyes and the pout of her soft-looking lips.

“Jerome,” she began. “I'm sorry you ran into problems, but in the future, if you see that you're going to be late, please give me a quick call or send me a text to let me know. It only takes a minute.”

Jerome withstood her chiding because he knew she was right and, more important, because she'd just said she wanted to have future conversations with him. “Okay, I'll do that.”

“So, did you fix the problem for your client?”

“Yes, even though it took forever. How are things at your boutique? Did you ever hear from that designer?”

Erica's voice perked up with excitement. “Yes. I can't believe I forgot to tell you! I received the file yesterday afternoon, and the design turned out better than I ever could have imagined.”

“That's great news.”

“Yes, it is. I'm so pleased that things are finally starting to fall into place. I even have a couple of good applicants lined up for interviews so I can replace my employee who quit without warning last week.”

“I'm real happy for you, Erica,” Jerome said as he walked back to his bedroom.

“Thanks. I really appreciate you saying that. It feels like it's been a long time coming.” She let out a heavy breath as she finished her last words.

“Are you sleepy? I know you didn't get much rest last night.”

“No, surprisingly I'm good. What you heard was an exhale of relief.”

“That's good.” Jerome stretched his long body across his queen-size bed, closed his eyes, and pictured her face in his mind. “So, what are you doing now?”

“Nothing. Just lying in bed, talking to you.”

The image of her lying in bed excited him, but he knew it was too early in their relationship to take the conversation to the level he desired, so he kept it tame. “You said you wanted to continue our conversation from earlier today, right?”

“Yes, and actually, I'm glad you brought that up.”

“Okay, let's talk. I'm ready.”

“Before we do, there's something I need to tell you.”

Damn!
he thought. It wasn't what she'd said, but rather it was the tone in which she'd said it, that let Jerome know something was up. He hoped Erica wasn't going to confess to having a boyfriend, or worse, tell him that she was married and it was “complicated.” He'd been out with a few women who'd pulled that kind of bullshit.

Erica cleared her throat. “I've been in more failed relationships than I can count, and aside from being wrong for one another, one of the main reasons things never worked out was a lack of communication. If you and I start seeing each other, I want us to be open and honest about our past, our present, and what we want for our future.”

“I agree, and I can do that.”

“Good. Now that I've said that, I have something I want to confess.”

I knew it! Shit!
He wanted to say something, but he remained deathly silent, listening to his heart beat drums inside his chest.

“Jerome, are you still there?”

“Yes, I'm listening.”

“Oh, o-okay,” Erica stammered. “Remember when I told you that I thought you might be a stalker?”

“Yeah?” Now Jerome's eyes were wide open, staring out into the darkness of his room.

“I have a friend who has some connections, and she had a background check done on you.”

Jerome didn't know what to say, because he didn't know how much she already knew. He'd told her that he used to sell drugs and that he'd dropped out of high school. But beyond that, there wasn't a lot more to tell, at least not in his mind.

Erica went on. “I know about your arrests and a few other things from your past, and that's what I want to have an open and honest discussion about.”

“What other things from my past?”

Erica paused. “Your personal life. Specifically, known associations and relationships,” she said in a politically correct–sounding voice.

Jerome sat up and kicked his long legs around the edge of his bed. “I can't say that I blame you for having me checked out. You're a single woman and you have to protect yourself, so I'm cool with that. But the way I see it, getting to know each other is a process. And every process has steps and takes time.”

“Yes, you're right. I'm ready to take that first step.”

“Good.”

They talked like friends who were catching up on old times. Jerome told Erica about his arrests for possession, his near-fatal shooting at the hands of a woman who'd become obsessed with him, and the crazy, dysfunctional, up-and-down relationship he'd finally ended with Kelisha two years ago. Then Erica poured out the bittersweet details of her first broken heart, the painful dissolution of her broken engagement with Claude, and the very real fear she harbored deep inside that she might never find the happily-ever-after she'd always been searching for.

“Finding love is just so hard, you know?” Erica said.

Jerome thought for a moment. “I don't think you find love. Love finds its own way. It comes to you.”

“Hmm, I guess you're right. It makes me think of that old saying ‘Love comes when you're not looking for it.' ”

“Bingo.” That was exactly how he felt about her. Erica had come to him without him searching for her.

During the course of their conversation they laughed, paused, asked questions, told jokes, expressed dreams, and discovered new and shiny details about each other's lives. Finally, their lids began to feel the stretch of their long day, so they said good night.

Several minutes after they ended their call, Jerome lay in bed with the phone still at his ear, holding on to the memory of Erica's voice until he fell asleep.

 

 

Erica smiled like a little girl and felt as excited as one, too, as she sat next to Jerome. They were the first to arrive at the jury room. Last night they'd agreed to get there early so they would have extra moments of quiet time before the other jurors arrived. And just as he'd done yesterday, Jerome brought coffee for the two of them, and this time Erica willingly accepted her cup.

They were both a little groggy, a result of their long conversation last night, which had crawled over into the wee hours of the morning. It had been two days since Erica had had a decent night's sleep, but looking at her, one would never be able to tell, because she seemed as bright and lively as she always did, with hair and make-up done to effortless perfection. Under any other conditions it would have been hard for her to function, but to her surprise, she was managing well.

She smiled to herself, knowing the newness of her budding relationship with Jerome was in large part responsible for her current state. After having a frustrating conversation with Ashley, and then an irritating one with Claude, Jerome's voice had been the soothing remedy she'd needed.

Erica had awakened mere hours after falling asleep, with Jerome on her mind and the anticipation of seeing him. Now, as she sat close beside him, smelling his vanilla- and wood-scented cologne, all she could think about was how much she wanted things to work between the two of them.

After last night Erica felt as though she'd known Jerome for years instead of just a few days. She thought he was the most fascinating man she'd ever met, and had she not known he'd completed only eleventh grade, she would have thought he held an advanced degree. She discovered that he was very smart, quick-witted, and well read on a variety of subjects. They'd discussed everything from relationships to politics, and Erica was impressed that he approached each topic from a thoughtful, well-informed perspective.

“I'll be glad when this trial is over,” Jerome said, bringing Erica's mind back to the moment at hand.

“You know, as ironic as it may sound, I look forward to it each day.”

“I look forward to seeing you every day, but other than that, I'm ready for it to end.”

Erica found the cases that both the prosecution and the defense were building to be quite fascinating, but she could tell that Jerome was completely uninterested, given that he'd yet to take a single note. She was curious about it, so she asked.

“You never write down what the witnesses are saying during testimony. Why haven't you taken any notes?”

Jerome took a big gulp of his coffee. “I haven't seen much need to. After the first five minutes I already knew the deal with this case.”

Erica shook her head and chuckled. “There you go again with your infamous five-minute rule.”

“Go 'head and laugh,” he said, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “It doesn't take a lot of time to sum up things. Nonverbal communication speaks just as loud as words and can paint a picture that someone's mouth may not speak. I watch a person's actions to get the real story, and that's what I'm doing for this case. I looked at that woman, and I figured things out. It's not hard to read what's going on.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Poor Ms. Slater,” Erica said, referring to the plain-faced defendant whom she'd quietly come to champion.

“What?” Jerome shook his head as he moved his empty cup to the side. “Erica, that woman is guilty as hell.”

Erica stopped sipping her coffee. “What makes you say that?”

“Everything about her looks guilty.”

“You can't base someone's guilt or innocence on how they look.”

“I'm not talking about the woman's physical appearance. I'm looking at other stuff.”

“Like what?”

Jerome reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a tin of cinnamon Altoids. “You want one?”

“No. Just an answer, please.” She smiled.

Jerome smiled back and popped the cinnamon-flavored mint in his mouth as he continued. “Like the fact that she's trying way too hard. I believe she's frightened about the possibility of going to prison, 'cause trust me, I know how scary that thought can be. But she sits at that defendant's table, looking like she just walked out of a haunted house, eyes all big, shaking like somebody just carjacked her or something. That's some straight-up acting.”

Erica frowned. “I disagree. She looks that way because, like you said, she's frightened. Not everyone can put up a strong front. If she was guilty, she'd probably be as cool as a fan, because that's how slick criminals think.”

“What do you know about how criminals think?”

Erica didn't have a good answer. She had to admit that she didn't have up close and personal experience in matters of criminal activity other than the police dramas she'd seen on TV. But she trusted her gut, and just as her gut told her that Jerome was a good man, it told her that Ms. Slater was an innocent woman. “I know what my gut tells me.”

“It's important to trust your instincts. That's how I make most of my decisions. But my instincts tell me she's guilty. Have you noticed that she's never, and I mean not once, looked into the eyes of one single person on this jury? She barely turns her head our way.”

“That's not true. She looked at me the very first day of the trial, during opening arguments.”

“You sure she looked at you or just in your direction?”