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“You know it’s not just this prison,” Lace says, looking at me now. “It happens everywhere, Joey. In many prisons across the world.”
I scoff and rest my forehead against the cool windowpane, closing my eyes to compose myself.
“It’s not right, Lace, and there should be consequences to stop it.”
“You want to stop it?” Lace gets to her feet and crosses the room until she’s next to me again. This time, however, I don’t bother stepping away. I don’t need to. Suddenly, her company doesn’t feel half bad.
“I’d love to stop it,” I say fiercely.
“Fine,” Lace says, and grins. “Then become Boss and you can make your own rules.”
I don’t say anything to this. There’s no reason to. We both know it’s not that easy.
“I’d stand behind you, you know, if you wanted to,” she continues. “I’ll stand by you any day.”
I force a smile and pull my bottom lip between my teeth to gnaw at it. As I do so, Lace reaches out and brushes a loose strand of hair behind one ear, then allows her fingertips to rest on my cheeks briefly. Her touch is electrifying, and the shock of it prevents me from pulling away.
“Lace,” I say warily. Her hand drops, but she’s still smiling. Still coy. Still full of herself. It’s endearing. Almost … sexy.
“I know, I know,” she says. “You prefer the dick.” She turns to leave, but then glances back at me over her shoulder. “For now, anyway.”
Once she’s gone, my hand automatically reaches for the lingering touch of her fingers against my skin. Lace is right; I’m straight. But any woman would be lucky to have the bubbly blonde as a lover.
Just not me.
At dinnertime, I finally feel hungry enough to eat almost everything on my plate. Lace’s presence next to me helps my appetite, but the fact that my task is done—for now—puts me at ease. Mostly. I find that nobody tries to bother me when I stick near Sabine, Camilla, Lace, and especially Ronnie, and I have to force myself to be grateful for that, even if I don’t want to be. It’s dog eat dog here, and I refuse to be just another animal for the inmates to tear apart.
“Hey, newbie!” somebody shouts from a different table. I don’t have to look up to know who spoke. It’s Deadeye. “Are you gonna finish that toast?”
“Ignore her,” Lace says, rolling her eyes. Ronnie doesn’t even look up from her plate of food. I direct my attention back to my plate and shrug it off as multiple women turn in their seats to leer at me. I feel like I’m under a spotlight, like an insect about to be burned alive by an innocent kid’s powerful magnifying glass.
“No answer?” yells Deadeye. “Do you need permission to speak now?” She laughs, and a few of the other inmates join in. They’re testing me. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but Ronnie catches my eye and shakes her head. I shut it again.
“Tell you what,” Deadeye continues. “I’ll lick your pussy for a bite of your toast.”
My head jerks to the side as I meet Deadeye’s gaze, and the fork I’ve been holding clatters to the table. I stand, and Lace reaches out to grab my jacket sleeve. Ronnie looks up and watches me, but she doesn’t stop me.
“You couldn’t pay me my freedom to touch you, Siv,” I say. “Whatever the fuck you’re carrying, you can keep it to yourself.” As I sit back down, many of the women look at each other, quiet, unexpecting. Even Deadeye looks momentarily taken aback, but even as I sit and wait for a threat, she doesn’t retaliate.
“Jeeze,” Camilla says softly from across the table. She sets her cup of juice down and raises her eyebrows at me. “That was brave.”
“It’s the only thing that got her to shut the fuck up,” I say defensively, and Camilla raises her hands in the air, surrendering.
“More power to you, darling,” says Sabine, sneaking a glance at Ronnie. “It was well deserved.”
Lace doesn’t say anything, and neither does Ronnie, and I know that neither of them approve.
“Just don’t come cryin’ to me when Deadeye wants her revenge,” Ronnie says after a few moments, gathering her empty tray to rinse. She rises from her seat and locks eyes with me. “You’ll learn soon enough how things work here.”
“Let’s hope not,” I mutter, but she’s already walking away. I turn to look at Lace, who hasn’t said much of anything at all. “Was that a mistake?”
“Nah,” she says, brushing it off like a piece of lint. “Bitch deserved it.”
After dinner I try again for the phones, feeling much more confident to be away from the other girls than I had yesterday. Deadeye and Bull are nowhere to be found, but I have to watch my back anyway. As the line to my sister’s house rings and rings with no answer, my heart drops in my stomach. Where could she be? I haven’t even seen or spoken to her since the night it happened.
“Back to your units, ladies,” someone says behind us. It’s Ms. Armstrong, one of the few female guards I’ve seen around the prison.
“Awe, come on, Armstrong,” one of the girls says with a whine. “We just got here.”
