Chapter Twenty-eight

Jasmine

“Jasmine James, on the charge of possession, how do you plead?” the white heavyset judge asked me the next day.

I pondered my answer for a quick second. That shit was not mine. Hell, I didn’t even know it was in my purse, Your Honor. I thought about saying what was on my mind. Instead, one word tumbled out. “Guilty.”

“Typically, in a case like this, I recommend twelve to eighteen months of jail time or a mandatory six-month stay at a drug rehabilitation center for addicts in need of recovery.” He removed his glasses, and I swallowed hard because I couldn’t do either jail or rehab.

“However, Mrs. James, because this is your first offense and your urine samples from the lab were clean,” Judge J.D. Waters spoke through the closed-circuit television, “I’m letting you off with a fine of fifteen hundred dollars and a warning to never be caught in this situation again, understood?”

“Yes, sir, Your Honor sir,” I practically shouted.

“We will enter your plea of guilty and your release agreement into the system. Your court fees are an additional two hundred dollars. Your release will be granted once payment in full for bail and court fees have been obtained. Court adjourned.”

I was so happy that I could’ve kissed him. In a matter of an hour, I was a free woman. My mother still had not answered her phone, and I was worried to death. Lizzie handed me my purse and cell phone, which Sheriff Johnson had confiscated yesterday. The minute I powered my cell up, text messages and voicemails came left and right. The first few messages were from Stacey, so I deleted them ASAP. The last few were from my mom. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“Hey, baby, it’s Mama.” She sniffed. “Call me when you get this. I’m at Michigan Valley Hospital.” She sniffed again. “Just get here when you can, baby, okay? My phone is going to die. Just get here.”

My heart raced. I knew something wasn’t right. I called a cab, and within minutes I was on my way to the hospital. I tried my mom again but there was no answer. Next I called King.

“You out?”

“Surprised?” I snapped.

“So what’s up? What do you want?” he asked with a little irritation.

“Have you spoken to my mother? She called from Michigan Valley, crying and upset.”

“She was blowing my phone up like crazy yesterday. I didn’t answer because I was busy, and I thought it was about you being locked up,” he admitted.

“I hope everything is okay with Jordan.” Panic was evident in my voice.

“That little nigga is all right. Stop worrying and call me back later. They’re waiting for me to shoot this next part.” King hung up before I had the chance to say bye, or anything else for that matter.

Placing my phone back inside my purse, I closed my eyes and prayed that everything was okay. Maybe Jordan had a cold or something. My mother was more overprotective than I was when it came to him. She probably noticed something small like a runny nose or slight cough and took him to see a doctor.

* * *

“Thirty-five dollars.” The Arab driver pulled in front of the hospital. I pulled out two twenties, slid them through the mini-door, and told him to keep the change. I walked through the revolving door of the hospital, then marched right up to the receptionist.

“Hi, I’m looking for Jordan James or Wanda Foster.” I gave both names because I wasn’t sure if the patient was Jordan or my mother. The dark-skinned clerk with the finger-waved eighties hairdo typed vigorously. I scanned the waiting area in search of my mother while I waited.

“Oh.” She looked up in horror. “Give me one second. I’ll have someone come and get you.” She lifted a red painted index finger, indicating one moment.

I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly. The anxiety was about to kill me, but I didn’t want to take my frustrations out on her, so I walked away. I was pacing back and forth for approximately ten minutes before a guy in green scrubs and a white lab coat approached me.

“Please, ma’am, follow me,” he said, then turned away. I was hot on his trail. I thought it was odd that he didn’t greet me like a normal doctor would, but I was just trying to get to my family, so I didn’t say anything. We stepped onto the elevator in silence. I watched as he pressed the button for the ground floor, causing me to raise an eyebrow. Never had I been taken to the basement of a hospital. Thus, I wondered just what in the hell was going on.

“What’s down here?”

“Your mother is down here waiting for you,” he replied without looking at me. The elevator buzzed, and then we stepped off. “Right this way.” The man nodded and we turned left. I held my breath as we walked past an office door, an employee break room, and a large door marked TRASH. Just as I was about to ask him again where we were going, my mother ran over to me with her arms wide open.