| |
Life at Seaside depended on which cellblock you landed in. A was the hospital unit where most of the residents were looking at the end of the road. B was reserved for the privileged set. Life in block B was comfortable to say the least. There were private cells, and most of your neighbors didn’t possess an overwhelming desire to off you simply because you were breathing. It also hosted many other amenities that, for a fee, the guards failed to notice. Block C was the place most residents called home. Good old-fashioned bars on the cells and little to no privacy. Block D was the last place you wanted to land. It housed the worst women in the prison. Granted, the cells were singles, which was the only way one could ensure no one would be murdered during the night.
Seaside came about in the sixties when the county decided it needed a women’s facility. Instead of building a new prison, they simply put a fence around an existing one. They added a couple of other touches and called it a new prison. The limited changes allowed for things like the parade.
Time in the yard offered little. There was a small paved surface for those who sought out exercise. Mostly, it was a large grassy area with a couple of picnic tables and a large space that ran up to the divider fence.
The parade did provide a small source of entertainment. It was the high point of most of the women’s day. Many spent their time outdoors gathering around the fence that ran outside of the men’s side of the exercise yard. Just as many were content to watch from the picnic tables.
Even with the gap, the guards ensured there was no interaction beyond catcalling, most of which came from the women. It was Angel’s least favorite activity. The fresh air was nice. The parade of men she could live without.
While almost every other woman hooted and hollered at the men who did their best to look good in their orange jumpsuits, Angel was busy trying to dodge Harris.
“What’s the word?”
“On?” Becks sniffed, clearly confused. Angel gave her a nudge before jerking her chin toward the redhead. “Oh, that one. Name’s Luann Rivers. I haven’t found out much else.
You like?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Right.” Becks rolled her eyes. “Gotta go, Chatty Cathy’s heading this way.”
“Wow, you walk fast,” Harris said as she caught up with Angel. “I just wanted to know about staying clean.”
“You might want to talk to Nana.” She groaned, annoyed by Harris’s pestering. “You want to stay clean, then you should go to meetings. Nana runs the AA meetings.”
“Nana?”
“Yeah, she’s like the grandma of my little family.”
“Oh?” Harris sounded confused as she fearfully looked around.
“Steger watching you?” Angel snorted with disgust. “She tell you I’m a race traitor yet?”
“She, um—”
Unable to take any more, Angel got up and went back inside. Much to her irritation, Harris followed her.
“How come everyone has to shower at the same time? I swear, I can’t even make water without someone watching me.”
“What did you expect?”
“Privacy would be nice. It’s so loud in this place.”
“Don’t get snotty with me. I’m merely pointing out that if it’s privacy you’re seeking, it isn’t going to happen. Not in the bathroom anyway. That’s one of the many joys of doing time. There’s something you need to understand about me.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t care.”
“What do ya mean?”
“I mean that I don’t care. Not about you or your problems. I’m getting close to getting out of here. The last thing I need is trouble.”
“Fine.” Harris grunted. “How do you know Becks? You said she was the one who got you into the family.”
“You can hear me, can’t you? I mean, when I talk, words come out?”
“Huh?”
“Look, kid, when it comes to surviving on the inside, the rules are simple. Keep your head down, mind your own business, and keep your trap shut. If you do these things, you might live long enough to walk out of here.”
“Um, okay. So, how did you end up hanging out with Becks and the others?” Harris persisted, convincing Angel that she was incapable of staying quiet.
Against her better judgment, Angel answered the little snot. “We met ten years ago over in Georgia. Landed in county lockup.”
“Whatcha boost?”
“Golf cart. Which, as it turns out, isn’t a good getaway vehicle.”
“Why the hell did you steal that?”
“A moment of whimsey.”
“Huh?”
“I was being an asshole,” Angel confessed. “In my defense, the rent-a-cop started it. In hindsight, making him chase me wasn’t as funny as I thought it would be. Hey, Ellis,” she called out to her neighbor.
“She’s naked?” Harris gasped.
“Noticed that, did you?”
“I’m never gonna be able to stay clean, am I?”
“Look, I don’t know what you want or why. Don’t care. You want to stay clean, join AA or NA and stay away from Steger. She works for the biggest supplier in the joint. Me, I keep to myself.”
“She makes me nervous.” Harris gulped. “She’s a dyke.”
“Yeah, me too,” Angel spat out.
“Right.” Harris laughed.
“Yeah,” Angel stressed, much to Harris’s horror.
“Before you get all worried about your virtue, don’t flatter yourself. Like I said, I keep to myself.”
“Okay.” Harris seemed to relax. “You got a friend over there?” she sheepishly asked.
“What?” The question caught her off guard. She hadn’t been aware of it, but she was staring at the redheaded newbie. “No,” she snapped. “I just don’t get into watching the men posturing for our attention.”
“Pos— what? You talk funny.”
“I guess I do.”
“When’s visiting day?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you anything when you were sentenced?”
“Everything happened so fast. I didn’t think I’d end up doing time.”
“No one does.”
“It wasn’t that much meth.”
“Of course, it wasn’t. I do know this is the wrong cellblock if you’re looking to score. Visiting days are the last Tuesday and Thursday of every month. Plus, every other Saturday.”
“Why don’t they just have it every Saturday or Thursday?”
“Don’t know. If I understood why people feel a need to make things complicated, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
“Well, the last Tuesday is coming up. That means I can see my kids, right? I can’t wait to see my kids.”
“Kids? You have kids? How many?”
“Two.” Harris innocently blinked.
“How old are they?”
“My son is three, and my baby girl is eighteen months. They’re with my mom. She takes them when I get out of sorts.”
Angel could only assume that “out of sorts” meant high or some other kind of bender.
“But you’re only twenty.”
“I can’t wait to see them,” Harris prattled on. “This time, I’m staying clean. I have to for them.”
She sounded sincere; however, Angel couldn’t help wondering how many times she had made the same promise in the past.
“If you’re serious, talk to Nana.”