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“I didn’t do this, Della,” I said, the fear and confusion leeching into my words as I turned my head to look over at her.
She stared at me a long minute. “I believe you,” she said, nodding. “Girls like you don’t end up here often.”
“They took my earrings,” I said, and that brought the urge to cry back and stronger than before.
“They have to give them back. You’ll get them when you’re released,” she said. “That’s why you have to sign about your possessions,” she added.
Right.
Okay.
That made sense.
They couldn’t juststealmy earrings.
“Is the food in prison really as bad as they say?” I asked, looking over at Della when she let out that raspy laugh again.
“First, this is gonna be jail, not prison. There’s a difference. But not in the food. It sucks ass. Trays usually have like five compartments. And in my experience, three of those are always some sort of unidentifiable slop. But there’s usually some sort of bread. And a salad or veg. You’ll survive on it for two days.”
I was a bit dubious.
I knew it made me sound really high-maintenance, but I was picky about food. Certain smells and textures made me want to gag.
But she was right.
I could survive on bread and salad for two days. I could survive on nothing for two days if I needed to.
It was going to be fine.
Fine.
And then once I was out on bail, however that was going to come to pass, I could figure out what the heck was going on.
Della filled me in on a few unspoken rules about being in jail, and I soaked up the information until there was a sudden guard at the door.
My stomach lurched, thinking of the jail van.
“Everleigh Barker,” he said, making me rush to stand.
“Yes?” I asked, hoping he was going to say that this was all just a big misunderstanding, and that I was free to go.
“Your lawyer is here.”
“I don’t have—“
“Oh, good,” Della cut me off, voice a little loud, making me turn to see her giving me big eyes. “Go get this sorted out, girl,” she said.
I nodded, then followed the officer, even though what I said was true.
I didn’t have a lawyer.
But I was led to a small room that must have been, you know, like an interrogation room or something.
And, sure enough, a man in a very expensive-looking suit was standing there waiting for me.
He was tall and fit under that tailored suit, with light brown hair, a classically handsome face covered with a bit of scruff, like maybe he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave because he’d been in such a rush to get here, and deep green eyes.
He gave a pointed look to the camera in the corner of the room, and the officer walked over to pull the power cord from the back.
