Breaking All My Rules (26 page)

Chapter 39

E
rica rubbed her hand across the top of her head as she walked in line back to the jury room. She'd had to use water and gel to slick her hair down into a neat bun this morning, after getting it soaking wet in the shower last night.
All because of him!
she shouted in her head. She could feel Jerome's eyes blazing through her as they walked the short distance down the hall. Half of her wanted to turn around and hug him, but there was another part of her that wanted to yell, kick, and scream in his face. That was how much he'd frustrated her.

She had read romance novels, articles, and had even seen movies that depicted the challenges of star-crossed lovers who came from different worlds. She'd known what she was getting herself into when she first met Jerome, and she was ready because her heart and her gut had told her that he was worth the work.

She remembered the beautiful love they'd made last night. The way he'd rubbed her back gently before giving her pleasure that made her moan like a woman gone wild. She touched her lips, remembering the way he'd fed her grapes as they lay in bed and talked about their future. She was impressed with his parenting skills when he told her about the way he'd educated his son on the facts of life and the responsibilities that came along with growing into young adulthood. It had made her think about what it would be like to have a child with him, and how they would parent together. But as she entered the jury room and took her seat, all she could think about at the moment was the growing confusion in her head.

Erica looked at Jerome out of the corner of her eye as he eased down into the chair beside her. He was wearing the same dark denims and cable-knit sweater that he'd had on yesterday, and she suspected that he hadn't showered, either, because he wouldn't have had the opportunity to go across town and still arrive in court on time. She marveled at the fact that despite all this, he looked as fresh and crisp as brand-new money. She didn't want to feel anything for him, but she couldn't deny the irresistible urge creeping up inside her to place a kiss on his soft lips.
What is this man doing to me?
she asked herself.

But Erica didn't have time to answer questions about her complicated relationship, which seemed as though it was coming to an end. So she concentrated on what was at hand—the fact that she and her fellow jurors were about to deliberate Ms. Slater's fate.

Because Jerome always seemed to be in control and he'd calmed everyone down last Friday, his fellow jurors had voted to make him the foreman. Erica beamed inside, feeling proud and confident in his ability to lead them, even if she was unsure about his stability within their own fleeting relationship.

“I think she's guilty,” one juror said. “She couldn't answer any of the questions the prosecution threw at her, and I still think she faked that attack last Friday.”

Maude spoke up. “The doctor said she was suffering from fatigue and stress. She was probably feeling the effects of the trial.”

“She should've thought about that before she swindled her company out of all that money,” another juror said.

Jerome raised his hand, calling order back to the room. “Let's take emotions out of this and look at the bare facts,” he said in a commanding voice.

Every person in the room was rapt in attention at the sound of his words. Erica was so turned on that she wanted to walk over to him, sit on his lap, and go for a pleasure ride. She listened as Jerome outlined details about the testimony of each eyewitness, as well as that of Ms. Slater.

She was in complete awe of him. She didn't know how Jerome did it, but he recounted details and corrected jurors about the facts that had been stated under oath by each witness who'd taken the stand, along with reciting the pointed questions that both the defense and prosecution had asked. All this from a man who had not written one single word of notes during the entire trial.

Although Erica had been not so secretly rooting for Ms. Slater from the start, it became clear after two hours of debate that the woman was guilty. Erica had tried to argue, along with Ms. Maude, that the defendant could have mistakenly hit the wrong computer keys and entered incorrect numbers on her time sheet. But when Jerome pointed out that 80 percent of her time sheets indicated she'd worked more than seventy-five hours a week, there was nothing left to say.

Erica had to admit that Ms. Slater's testimony was less than convincing. The woman seemed not to be able to remember what she did from day to day, yet when the prosecution asked her to describe her duties, her interactions with coworkers, and even certain assignments she'd been given, she'd recalled each one with vivid clarity. All this and she couldn't give definitive answers about her time sheets.

“I believe we've reached a verdict,” Jerome said after counting each juror's ballot, and seeing that it was unanimous. “I'll let the bailiff know we're ready.”

Erica watched Jerome as he walked to the door. She drank in every ounce of him, from his straight back to his squared shoulders and up to his royal head held high. When their eyes connected, she saw the glimmer of a look on his face that echoed what she was thinking—
I'm sorry.

 

 

The trial was over, and everyone was relieved, except Ms. Slater, who, after being found guilty, was scheduled to report back for sentencing in two weeks.

“I wanted to believe she was innocent,” Ms. Maude said. “But after Jerome and the others laid out the facts, it was hard not to see that she was guilty.”

“I feel the same way,” Erica said.

“That young lady reminded me so much of my daughter.” A small tear fell from Ms. Maude's eye. “My Tammy was a good girl who got caught up in the wrong things by hanging around a bad crowd. I stuck by her side and believed her until the very end, too. But just like Ms. Slater, Tammy was guilty.”

Erica's eyes questioned the old woman's. She wanted to know what her daughter had been guilty of, but didn't know how to ask.

“My daughter was involved in a robbery,” Ms. Maude said, answering the question Erica couldn't ask. “They sentenced her to ten years, but she only served three months before she took her life. I saw the same look in Ms. Slater's eyes that I saw in my daughter's,” she said with a sniffle. “I just hope that poor woman lasts longer than my Tammy did.”

Erica put her hand on Ms. Maude's shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I'm a tough old woman. I'll be fine.”

“You have my number, so please use it. Call me whenever you need to talk, okay?”

Ms. Maude nodded. “You're such a sweetheart. I appreciate you being so kind to an old lady like me. And I'll be by your store in a few days to get me some of those nice-smelling body creams.”

“Ms. Maude, it's on the house.”

“Well, thank you! I can't wait. And listen, be sure to send me an invitation to the wedding.” Ms. Maude wiped the last of her tears and smiled as she looked from Erica over to where Jerome was standing and talking to another juror on the other side of the room. “You two are gonna be good together.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I might've misjudged Ms. Slater's innocence, and even my daughter's, but this is one thing that I know I'm right about.”

Instead of getting into a discussion about her complicated relationship with Jerome, Erica nodded and gave Ms. Maude a big hug, promising to keep in touch. She stood for a moment, watching her new friend as she walked out the door, and thought about what the old woman had said. She'd actually predicted that she and Jerome would get married.

Erica didn't know about a wedding, but she was sure that she loved Jerome, in spite of everything that had happened that morning. She also knew there wasn't any hurdle that love and honest communication couldn't overcome. She remembered the struggles she'd had trying to open Opulence, and she understood that if you wanted something, you had to fight for it. She wanted Jerome, and she was determined to get her man.

Chapter 40

J
erome and Erica walked out of the jury room and into the hallway at the same time. Although the quick glance they'd exchanged earlier had held the promise of an olive branch, they hadn't spoken to each other since their terrible argument.

Jerome regretted not holding his temper in check and accusing Erica the way he did, and he made up his mind that he was going to step up like a man, as he'd always told Jamel to do, and apologize. He was about to take Erica by the hand and pull her over to the side when Sasha came up, swaying her imaginary hips beside him.

“I like the way you handled things today. You impressed me,” Sasha said, flipping her hair off her shoulder.

Jerome wanted to tell her that he didn't give a damn about impressing her, but instead he nodded. “Thanks.”

She placed her hand on his muscular bicep and leaned in close. “Let's let bygones be bygones, okay? How about you and me go get a drink to celebrate the end of this trial? I know a nice bar a few blocks from here that has a great happy hour special that's starting in a half hour.”

When Sasha lightly squeezed her hand around Jerome's arm, he bristled, especially knowing that Erica was walking right beside him. He also knew that Sasha hadn't slept on the fact that he and Erica had been chilly to one another all day, and she probably saw their small rift as an opportunity to get what she'd wanted since she first saw him during jury selection. Experience had taught him that women like her were more dangerous than firearms, and he knew he had to cut things off before they jumped off.

“No, I can't. My girlfriend and I are getting ready to go to dinner,” he said, taking a hold of Erica's hand.

When he saw Erica's eyes widen with a smile, he felt as though he could breathe comfortably once again. He turned his attention back to Sasha, who looked as though she could bite through steel. After the day he'd been having, the last thing he needed was a scene. So as much as he didn't want to be polite to her, he knew he had to diffuse the situation by extending her a little unearned courtesy.

“Take care of yourself, Sasha,” he said, giving her a cordial smile.

Sasha narrowed her eyes at Erica and then at him. “You think you're slick, but I got your number.”

Jerome couldn't figure out what her problem was.
Maybe she's just psycho, like her crazy cousin,
he said to himself. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to allow her to phase him. “I'm going to let that slide,” he responded in a calm tone. “Like I said, take care of yourself, all right?”

By now they had approached the escalator leading downstairs to the courthouse entrance. Jerome made sure that Sasha stepped on in front of him and Erica, because after witnessing her erratic behavior, there was no way in hell he was going to stand with his back to the woman.

He was still holding Erica's hand as they walked out the front door of the courthouse. The brisk afternoon chill greeted them as they smiled and made quiet apologies to each other. Jerome breathed with relief, thankful they were getting back on track and also glad that he'd just avoided a potential scene with Sasha.

He couldn't wait to start his evening with Erica and continue making up, but his romantic thoughts were interrupted when he saw Sasha, who was walking several paces in front of him and Erica, turn around and slowly strut toward him.

She smiled at Jerome and extended her hand. “I want to apologize to you, and to you,” she said, looking toward Erica. “What I said was wrong, and I'm sorry.”

Something told Jerome not to trust her words. She'd already proven that she was unstable. A person had to show their ass to him only once to make him a believer, and Sasha had done it twice. Rather than shake her outstretched hand in a truce, not knowing what she might do, he simply nodded. “No need to apologize. Everything's cool.”

Sasha smiled and quickly leaned in close before Jerome could stop her. She whispered in his ear, “If you think Tawanna fucked you up, you ain't seen nothin' yet.” She stepped back, gave Erica a warm smile, and then turned and walked away.

“What did she just say to you?” Erica asked.

Jerome never lost the cool composure that was nearly always imprinted on his face. He looked at Erica and squeezed her hand, which was still resting inside his. “She said she hopes we have a nice evening.”

Erica stared at him with doubt. “She looks like she has an ax to grind. There's something about that woman that makes the hair on my arms stand up.”

“Don't worry about Sasha,” Jerome responded, even though her last words had made him feel the same way. “That's the last we'll see of her. Let's concentrate on you and me and enjoying the rest of our evening.”

Up until that moment, Jerome had been honest with Erica. But now he'd just told her two lies within thirty seconds. He didn't like dodging the truth. However, given the circumstances, he felt his small indiscretion was necessary and would ease Erica's mind. After the rocky road they'd just traveled, all he wanted was peace, and telling her that Sasha was crazy and that this wasn't the last they'd see of her were two truths that would only make things worse.

 

 

Erica stopped by Opulence, checking in to make sure things were running smoothly. LaWan was looking low and slightly disheveled again, no doubt because of her new man, while Christopher was still angling to tag along for the Tracy Reese fashion show next week. Erica knew she'd have to have a talk with LaWan tomorrow and get her straight about her appearance. This was the second time the young woman had dragged herself into the boutique looking as though she'd just stumbled out of bed, which was completely unacceptable. But for now, Erica let it go in favor of greeting the customers who were perusing the shelves.

After she took care of business at the boutique, Erica went by her house and packed an overnight bag. She was excited because she was going to spend the night at Jerome's place and get a chance to see where he lived. She was backing out of her garage when her cell phone rang.

“Hey, Ashley,” she said, feeling bright and springy.

“You said you were going to call and let me know the verdict, so what happened?”

“We found her guilty, just like you said we would.”

“I know you wanted to believe in that woman's innocence, but, girl, sometimes people just don't do right. When criminals see an angle, they take it.”

“Unfortunately, that's true.” Erica's mind jumped to Ashley's own sticky predicament. “How're you doing? Have you spoken with Jason?”

“He's leaving his office in an hour and then coming over here so we can talk.”

Erica could hear the anguish in her friend's voice. “I don't know what's going on between you and Nelson, or you and Jason, but I want you to know that whatever you decide, I'm in your corner and I support you.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that right about now. I'm feeling so many different emotions. But I know I have to be honest with Jason and tell him about Nelson. He deserves that.”

“Yes, he does.” Erica steered her car onto the busy street. “One thing, though. If you decide to start seeing my brother, I absolutely will not indulge in conversations about your sex life. That would just be too much!”

Ashley burst into laughter. “But some of our best conversations are about sex!”

“That may be true, but talking about it when it involves my brother . . . uh, I don't think so.”

“I'll say this. Nelson can put it down, girl.”

“What did I just say?”

“Okay, okay,” Ashley teased. “Speaking of putting it down, how are you and Jerome doing?”

“I'm in the car, headed over to his place now.”

“I hope you packed a gun, because you might have to shoot your way into and out of his neighborhood.”

“Stop that, Ash.” Erica felt defensive, even though she was slightly wary of driving around in that unfamiliar part of town at night.

“I'm serious. It's rough over there, and I know firsthand. Just be careful, okay?”

Erica didn't want Ashley's fear to fuel her own growing trepidation, so she quickly ended the call with the promise that they'd talk tomorrow. As her GPS led her closer to her destination, she saw what Ashley had meant by her crass but true comments.

Even though Erica had grown up in the D.C. area, had been living in the District for nearly ten years, and had traveled around the city to all eight wards, she'd never been to this part of Southeast. This was the side of town that gentrification had forgotten, but hard times and blight had kept close to their bosom. As former mayor Marion Barry, better known to Chocolate City residents as “Mayor for Life,” had said, it was the land of the least, the last, and the lost.

It was cold and dark outside, and Erica was trying to take in all the elements of her new and dangerous-looking surroundings. She felt nervous when she came to a stoplight where several young men were milling around on the corner. She watched as their eyes peered at her from the curb, sizing up her black Mercedes sedan. It was a limited edition model that she'd purchased for herself last Christmas to celebrate a very prosperous year for Opulence.

Erica's car had given her a sense of pride and accomplishment, but now it was drawing unwelcome attention and she wished she was driving a hooptie instead. One of the thugged-out, saggy pants–wearing young men began raising his hands, yelling in her direction. Even though her windows were rolled up and her music was down low, Erica could hear him talking loudly to his buddies, telling them he liked her car and that he wouldn't mind taking it off her hands. She bit her bottom lip and prayed the light would turn green.

She thought about her privileged background and hated that she was stereotyping the young men based on the images she'd seen in rap videos and on the evening news. For all she knew, they were just hanging out, shooting the breeze, and simply admiring her car. But as quickly as that thought entered her mind, it made a hurried exit. Right now she couldn't blame the media for her fear, because it wasn't the Channel 7 news that picked up a rock, hurled it at her car, and yelled, “Get the fuck outta my hood, bitch!” just as the light turned green and she stepped on the gas.

 

 

When Erica finally found a parking spot on Jerome's busy street, he was standing there to meet her at her car door. She'd called him in a nervous panic right after the rock had crashed against her passenger side door.

“You okay?” he asked, hugging her close.

“A little shaken up. But I'm all right.”

Jerome retrieved her overnight bag from the backseat and then walked around to the passenger side of her car to inspect the damage. “Those muthafuckin' cowards!” he hissed. “I wish I'd been in the car with you.”

Erica touched the lower part of his arm, looking from her left to her right. “Let's just go inside.” Although his street was quiet, there were random people walking by, all eyeing her car. She pressed the alarm and followed Jerome up the steps to his apartment.

Erica wasn't sure what she'd expected, but when she walked through Jerome's door, she was pleasantly surprised to see how neat and organized his place was. Even though his physical appearance was always immaculate, she knew that just because a man looked good, it didn't mean he kept a neat house. Even Claude, in all his sophisticated refinement, would have lived in squalor had it not been for his housekeeper who tidied up once a week.

Another thing Erica hadn't expected was the diminutive size of his apartment. He'd told her that his place wasn't large by any stretch, but she had no idea it would be so small. From what she could see at first glance, the space in which he dwelled was a fourth of the size of the first floor of her home. The living room, dining room, and nearly nonexistent kitchen were all in one cramped space, which was attached to an equally cramped hallway that led to what she imagined were two cramped bedrooms in the back. The apartment that she and Ashley had shared in college was twice the size of Jerome's.

Even though it was just him, and occasionally his son if Jamel spent the night, Erica couldn't understand why Jerome lived in such a tiny place, one that didn't match his large and commanding presence. A part of her felt sad that at thirty-five years of age, he had very little to show for all his hard work. He rose at dawn every morning and labored over the discarded remnants of other people's lives, he worked on home repair projects when they fit into his schedule so he could build his contracting business, he studied for his GED exam in between, and he still managed to spend time with his son and his parents. He was a good guy, and she wanted better for him.

Thinking about the kind of man she'd fallen in love with made Erica feel proud. He might not have possessed the material things she thought he should, but she knew he was rich in so many other ways. She made up her mind that instead of concentrating on what his home was lacking, she would find things to praise. Like the fact that when she breathed in deeply, she noticed that the room was awash with the hypnotically fragrant smell of soothing incense. When she looked around, she could see that everything was neat and in order, from his books, which she was glad to see were many, to his CDs and old-school vinyl record collection. His floors were clean and free of clutter, and the lone couch, the scratched-up coffee table, and the flat-screen TV were all situated to maximize space in the small room.

“This is where I call home,” Jerome said, looking closely at her.

Erica knew he was scanning her face for signs of disapproval, and she wanted him to know that he had nothing to worry about. “You're a pretty good housekeeper. I was expecting a bachelor pad filled with stinky drawers and beer cans,” she teased.