Breaking All My Rules

by Trice Hickman

  He watched as Erica silently walked toward the table, barely looking his way. She took a seat across from him without saying a word. He studied her as she removed her large handbag from her shoulder and peeled out of her purple jacket. He noticed that her hair was pinned high on her head, exposing the same silver hoops that had danced at her lobes yesterday. She looked in Maude’s direction, said hello, and smiled. But she didn’t allow her deep brown eyes to travel the three feet that separated him from her.

  By now all the jurors had arrived and the room was full. Various conversations were going on all at once, but Jerome didn’t insert himself into any of them, because his mind was on Erica. He didn’t know what to make of her distant behavior. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. He wanted to get her attention, so he held up the cup of coffee he’d bought her and motioned it in her direction. “Erica, want a cup?” he said.

  Erica barely looked at him, offering a half smile. “I had some on my way in, but thank you, anyway.”

  If Jerome’s skin had been pale, he’d have probably turned as red as a crayon. He was glad the others were so caught up in their conversations that they hadn’t noticed the dis that Erica had just sent flying his way.

  “I’ll take it. I haven’t had a thing all morning,” Sasha said as she took the cup from Jerome’s hand. “You got any cream and sugar in that bag?”

  Jerome lied and said he didn’t. His mind was in a tailspin as he tried to figure out what in the hell was going on. He remembered how Erica had run hot and cold last week when he’d first seen her, looking at him one minute, smiling with light in her eyes, then shutting him down the next without even so much as a glance in his direction.

  Damn. Maybe she’s crazy, Jerome thought. In his mind there was no other explanation for her erratic behavior. He knew she was the creative, artsy type, and in his experience, those kinds of people usually had far-out personalities and could have serious mood swings. He wondered if she might have a dual personality and hadn’t taken her meds.

  As Jerome looked at Erica, examining her face, he noticed a tired look rimming her eyes. She covered her mouth and yawned, as if struggling to fight sleep. He knew that something was definitely wrong.

  Moments later they got in line, standing in the quiet hallway as they waited to enter the courtroom. Jerome’s body was so close to Erica’s that he could reach out and hug her.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she whispered back without turning around.

  “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Erica slowly turned around and stepped to within a few inches of his face as she spoke in a low voice. “Why would I lie? I’m not the one with anything to hide. So if I say I’m fine, it means exactly that.... I’m fine.”

  Fine and crazy as hell, Jerome said to himself. Now he was really puzzled. “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is or what happened to you between yesterday and this morning. All I know is that you’re acting like I’ve offended you, when the only thing I want to do is make sure you’re okay.”

  He’d said his words forcefully, but also with a pleading emotion so tender that it startled even him. The weight of it made him dizzy with questions he couldn’t answer.

  He saw a softness wash over Erica’s tired eyes, changing the expression on her face back to one of the woman he remembered. She was about to speak when the announcement came that it was time to enter the courtroom.

  She nodded. “Let’s talk at the break.” And without another word, she turned and marched in line through the courtroom door.

  Jerome felt conflicted. His gut, along with all the crazy love-struck emotions he’d been feeling, told him that Erica was special. But his practical mind and his life experience told him that something about her wasn’t right. There was a hidden piece behind the softness in her eyes that led him to that feeling. And now, as he sat in the jury box, listening to the first witness who’d been called to the stand, he didn’t know which way to go or what to believe. He leaned back in his seat, glanced over at Erica, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

  Chapter 17

  Erica sat in the jury box, her writing pad getting a workout from her pen as she jotted down notes while the witness rattled off his testimony. She was doing a good job of concentrating, but then she was suddenly thrown off track by the feel of Jerome’s knee against her leg.

  “Excuse me,” he whispered in his deep baritone, never taking his eyes off the witness stand to the right of them.

  He had shifted in his seat and had accidentally brushed his knee against her upper thigh. Even though he was wearing relaxed dark denims and she was business casual in a pair of tan trousers, the heat from his contact made Erica feel as though they’d touched skin to skin. She fiddled with her pen and sighed, quietly wishing she could explain herself and her actions to Jerome.

  She regretted prejudging him and jumping to conclusions. But after her conversation with Ashley last night, and then the horrible nightmare she’d awakened to at three this morning, she wasn’t thinking straight. She knew Jerome had done nothing to warrant her cool treatment in the jury room, and she was embarrassed by her actions. She’d barely looked at him today, but after hearing the worry in his voice just moments ago and seeing the confusion mixed with genuine concern on his face, she knew he was simply a thoughtful man who was trying to get to know her, not a stalker.

  Erica wanted their break to come, but time inched along so slowly, she feared she might fall asleep. She thought about the coffee Jerome had offered her, and wished so badly that she’d accepted it, especially after the skinny, colored-contacts-wearing woman drank it. Getting her coffee had been another sweet gesture on his part, and again, she felt embarrassed about her actions.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the judge dismissed them for their morning break. It took Erica a little effort to rise, and when she did, she felt the weight of her sleepless night fall down on her. With slow movements, she walked in line until she reached the hallway.

  “You gonna be okay?” Jerome asked.

  “Yes, I’m just a little tired. Um, do you mind if we talk?”

  Jerome led the way to a stairwell on the other side of the hall from the jury room. Standing alone with him in the quiet space, Erica thought about how she’d regarded Jerome with apprehension and skepticism last night. But now she felt perfectly safe with him. As a matter of fact, a quick burst of excitement made her perk up, despite her sleep-deprived fatigue. Being close to him outside the jury room felt good, and she was glad he’d taken her to this private place.

  Erica shifted her feet, feeling Jerome’s eyes on her. She thought about how she must appear to him, given the distant reserve and frosty attitude she’d displayed. Then she thought about her appearance.

  I must look a hot mess! Erica smoothed down a few wayward strands of hair on the top of her head. She wished she’d had time to use her flatiron this morning. But after the rough night she’d had, it was all she could do to run a small amount of oil cream through her tresses, brush them back into a neat chignon, and make herself presentable before she walked out the door.

  As Jerome’s eyes continued to hold her in a steady gaze, she wasn’t quite sure where to begin, but since she knew their break would whizz by, she jumped straight in. “I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning. My behavior was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

  She waited for a reaction, but he gave her nothing—at least not verbally. His tightly crossed arms and piercing eyes told her that he wanted more in the way of an explanation, so she continued. “I was a little leery of you, and I didn’t know what to think because—”

  “Leery of me?” Jerome repeated, cutting her off in mid-sentence. “I thought we were really vibin’. What did I do to make you feel that way?”

  Erica let out a sigh and fiddled with her notepad. “During our conversation yesterd
ay you found out a lot about me, but I walked away knowing absolutely nothing about you. Then, when I asked, you avoided giving me any answers. The more I thought about it, the more it made me think you had something to hide. Then I started thinking all kinds of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, maybe you were a crazy stalker and you were just trying to get information on me.”

  “You actually thought I was trying to stalk you?”

  “Hey, it’s not such a stretch. People are crazy nowadays.”

  Jerome laughed.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “No, Erica. I don’t think it’s funny.” Jerome took a deep breath and shook his head. “Let me assure you. I’m not a stalker. The only reason I asked so many questions was because I wanted to get to know you. I’m feelin’ you, and I’d like to take you out.”

  There was a long pause between them. A shy smile slid across Erica’s toasted bronze–colored lips. “Really?”

  “Yeah . . . really.”

  Jerome opened the door for Erica, and they entered Cosi restaurant. She would have preferred a quieter, more intimate setting, but since the eatery was across the street from the courthouse, it fit into their lunch schedule. Plus, she and Jerome had decided they should dine outside the jury room or the court cafeteria to avoid the prying eyes and gossipy tongues of their fellow jurors.

  Despite Erica’s protest, Jerome insisted on paying for their meal.

  “But you treated yesterday, so now it’s my turn. Plus, you agreed to it,” she said.

  “Number one, I don’t keep score of stuff like that. And number two, I never agreed to anything. I just listened to what you had to say,” he said with a smile.

  Jerome found an empty table along the wall and led Erica to it. Once they settled in, they didn’t waste any time with their food or their conversation.

  “Have you ever done speed dating?” Erica asked.

  “Uh, no. But I’ve heard about it. Why?”

  “This break will fly by super fast, so I figured we can pretend this is a speed-dating session and I can find out more about you.”

  “So you’ve done speed dating?”

  Erica shook her head. “You can only answer questions. I’m doing all the asking this time.”

  Jerome smiled and bit into his chicken pesto flat bread sandwich. “Okay, I’m game.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Right here in the good ol’ nation’s capital. I was born at Howard University Hospital.”

  Erica smiled. “Okay. Where did you go to school?”

  “Ballou High.”

  She waited for him to continue, but when she saw him avert his eyes to the bag of chips in front of him, she knew he’d completed his response, and that twelfth grade had been his stopping point. She took a sip of her double expresso and then continued. “What do you do for the city?”

  “I’ve been with the Department of Public Works for ten years.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I work in the sanitation division.”

  “Well, what do you do in the sanitation division?”

  Jerome put down his sandwich and wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. He took a deep breath and looked into Erica’s eyes. “Can we stop this speed-dating thing and just talk?”

  Chapter 18

  Erica 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.”