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“What?”
“All of the women have to do it when they’re new,” Camilla says gently, as if that helps ease the horror of my new life. “I guess you could say it’s a way for Ronnie to test your loyalty.”
“I can’t do that.” The words spill from between my lips, but I know it doesn’t matter what I say; I can still see the look in Ronnie’s eyes when she had me against the wall, and I know she’s not fucking around.
“You have no choice, love,” says Camilla softly. She looks down at the cold, hard floor instead of at me, and I know it’s because she can’t face me.
“Don’t let her make me do this,” I beg, suddenly desperate. “What if I get caught?”
“If you’re lucky, it’ll just be this once.” Camilla sighs and stands up. “If you refuse, Joey, there’ll be a lot worse repercussions than smuggling gear, yeah?”
I swallow and look down at my arm where I’ve unconsciously been scratching. It’s red and puffy, and a tiny streak of blood just below the skin threatens to break through. I close my eyes and squeeze them shut, trying to block the tears that threaten to spill over. I can’t show weakness, not even to Camilla.
“What do I have to do?”
“I’ll be the one to tell you that,” Ronnie says, easing her way past Camilla to stand in the doorway. I get to my feet at once, trying to appear less vulnerable than I feel.
“Tell me.”
Ronnie smiles, but it’s not a happy smile. It’s a smirk. She knows she’s got me hook, line, and sinker, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I must survive in here. It’s life or death.
He’s coming at noon,Ronnie says, the man who is bringing the drugs. I have to meet with him, visit, and get the drugs. All without being caught or even noticed.
“I don’t even know this guy,” I tell Lace, splashing cool water on my hot cheeks. My stomach hurts from stress, and my skin burns with shame. Lace sits on the edge of my bed, watching me, her lips pursed. I can’t read her expression, and I’m not sure I want to.
“It’ll be quick,” she says. “In and out. Then Ronnie’ll leave you alone.”
“I wish I could believe you.” I rake my hair back into a ponytail with my trembling fingers and pull it tight, trying unsuccessfully to look more confident than I feel. The rubbery eggs and soggy bacon feel heavy in my stomach, and I can only hope that I make it in and out without heaving up food all over the floor.
“Are you ready?” Lace gets to her feet and stands behind me, arms folded, chewing on her bottom lip. She looks worried, and that doesn’t ease my anxiety. I clear my throat and push my shoulder back until my neck hurts.
“As I’ll ever be.”
At that moment, Mr. Jaxon pokes his head into my cell, his eyes falling on Lace, then over to me. “Your noon visitor is here.”
“Okay, thanks.” I look over my shoulder at Lace who stays in my cell as Jaxon and I walk out; her hands are deep in the pockets of her hoodie now, and after a second the wall blocks her from view. I don’t see Camilla anywhere in our unit, but Ronnie and Sabine are chatting on the couch. Sabine smiles at me as I walk behind Jaxon. It’s a sad smile; she knows what’s about to happen. Ronnie also looks up and catches my gaze, but she doesn’t smile. Much like Lace, I can’t read her expression. That’s probably her intention.
Jaxon doesn’t say anything as he escorts me to the front visitor’s center, but that’s okay. If I talk, I’ll probably puke.
“After your visit we have to do a strip search,” he says finally, stopping at the locked door. He looks at me like this should mean something, and I know it does, but I can’t blow my cover now. Instead, I force a smile and shrug.
“Well, that’s the rules, right?”
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but thinks better of it and nods, just once. “Right.”
“Good then.” I wait for Jaxon to unlock the door, then step out into the visiting area where men and women and family and friends are visiting with their inmates. No one pays me any attention; no one scowls in my direction or threatens me with a shiv. It’s like being back in real life, with real people who aren’t out to get me.
I look around for the person I’m supposed to meet, taking a seat at an empty round table and take a deep breath, hoping Ronnie has told them what I look like. After another few minutes, someone comes into the visitor’s area, spots me, and comes over to plop himself across from me. I can’t think of anything to say, so I sit quietly as he adjusts himself in the seat.
“What’s your name?” he asks. The man with the name tag ‘Frank’ meets my eyes. He’s a middle-aged gentleman, balding with a belly that hangs over his belt. His face is speckled with old acne scars, and a deep dent is embedded in his right cheek. He’s not a person I would know in my life, and I hope I never do.
“Sally,” I lie, lowering my voice. “Can we get on with this please?”
Frank looks around the room, paranoid like somebody is watching us. Fuck, they probably are. Mr. Jaxon, for instance, is standing right behind me. His eyes scan the room, but they keep landing on us for a second longer. I have no idea how to do this without being caught.
“How about a kiss for your old friend?”
