Danielle Steel - Malice

“Watch out for her,” one of the girls at her table whispered, and then walked away. Brenda was a tough one.

Grace went straight back to her cell after that. They were showing a movie that night, but she had no interest in going. She just wanted to go back to her cell, and stay there until morning. She lay on her bunk, and heaved a sigh of relief. She had to use her inhaler two more times that night before she relaxed and felt like she could breathe again. And she was still awake at ten o'clock when Sally got back from the movies.

Sally didn't say a word to her, but Grace turned on her bunk and thanked her for taking her to the nurse for her asthma.

“She gave me my inhaler back.”

“Don't show it to anyone,” Sally said wisely. “They play with people here for things like that. Just keep it to yourself, and use it in private.” That wasn't always possible, but Grace sensed that it was good advice, and nodded. And then, as they turned off the lights, and Sally got into her lower bunk, she spoke to Grace again in the darkness. “I saw Brenda Evans talking to you at chow. Watch out for her. She's dangerous. You're going to have to learn to swim here real quick, little fish. And watch your back till you do. This place ain't no playground.”

“Thank you,” Grace whispered in the dark, and she lay there for a long time, as silent tears slid down her cheeks onto the mattress. She lay there for what seemed like hours, listening to the clattering and banging outside, the shouts, and occasional screams, and through it all she listened to the comfortable purr of Sally's snoring.

Chapter 5

After two weeks, Grace knew her way around Dwight, and she had a job in the supply room, handing out towels and combs, and counting out toothbrushes for the new arrivals. Sally got her the job, although she pretended not to have any interest in helping Grace. But she seemed to keep an eye on her from a distance.

Molly had been to see her once by then, and she was devastated by what she heard and saw there. But Grace insisted that she was all right. And much to her own surprise, no one had really bothered her. They called her a fish whenever they got the chance, and Brenda had stopped to talk to her again once or twice at chow, but it never went beyond that. She hadn't even tweaked Grace's breast again. So far, she felt pretty lucky. She was safe, she had a decent job. Her roommate was taciturn, but basically kind. No one had threatened her, or invited her to join a gang. It looked like what they called “easy time.” At this rate, she would survive the two years. And she was in pretty good spirits when David saw her, which reassured him. He hated her being there, and he felt more than ever that she didn't belong there, but at least nothing untoward had happened to her, and she insisted that she wasn't in any danger. It was something to be cheered about at least. And they spent their time together talking about her future.

She had already made up her mind that after she did her time at Dwight, she was going to Chicago. She had to stay in the state for two years of probation, but Chicago would suit her perfectly. And the fifty thousand dollars of her father's that Frank Wills had given her would give her a nest egg. She wanted to get a job when she got out, but before that, she wanted to learn to type, and take her college courses, as soon as she could start them.

David told her about the appeal, and he was encouraging, but it was hard to say what would happen.

“Don't worry about it. I'm okay here,” she said gently, and as he watched her leave the visiting room that afternoon, he marveled at the quiet dignity of her carriage. She held herself straight, and she was thinner than she had ever been. She looked beautiful and neat and clean, and it was hard to believe, looking at her, that she was an inmate in a prison. She looked like a college girl, or a cheerleader. She looked like someone's really good-looking wholesome little sister. It was impossible to see her history as one looked at her, except if you saw her eyes. The pain one saw there told a different story. And all that he knew of her made him ache for her. It was never easy for him to forget her.

He waved sadly as he drove away, and she stood outside watching his car disappear in the distance. It was even harder for her than it was for him. For her it was like being deserted in the jungle.

“Who's that?” a voice behind her asked, and when Grace turned to look at her, she saw Brenda. “Your boyfriend?”

“No,” Grace said, with quiet dignity, “my attorney.”

Brenda laughed openly at her. “Don't waste your time. They're all pricks. They tell you what they're gonna do, and how they're gonna save your ass, and they don't do shit except fuck you, literally if you let them, and every other way too. I never met one worth a damn. Actually,” she laughed again, “I never met a guy worth a damn either. What about you?” She looked pointedly at Grace. She was wearing one of her wet T-shirts again, and Grace noticed that she had a tattoo on one arm, of a large red rose with a snake under it, and next to her eyes she had tattoos of tiny teardrops. “You got a boyfriend?” Grace knew that here it was a dangerous question, whatever you said, you were in a precarious position. She just shrugged noncommittally. She was learning. And she started to walk slowly back inside after her visit. “You in a hurry to go somewhere?”

“No, I … I thought I'd write some letters.”

“Oh how cute,” Brenda laughed. “Just like camp. You got a mommy and daddy at home to write to? You still didn't answer me about the boyfriend.”

“Just a friend.” She had wanted to write to Molly, about David's visit.

“Hang around. It can be a lot of fun around here. If you want it to be. Or it can be a real drag. It's up to you, babe.”

“I'm okay,” she said, looking for a way to exit without enraging Brenda. But Brenda wasn't making it easy.

“Your cellie's a real creep, and so's her girlfriend. You met her yet?” Grace shook her head. Sally was very discreet about her private life. She had never said anything to Grace, nor did she seek her out when they were out of their cell. She minded her own business. “Big black bitch. They're a real drag. What about you? You like to party? Little magic dust, little weed?” Brenda's eyes sparkled at the thought of it, and Grace tried to look vague and then shook her head.

“Not really. I've got pretty bad asthma.” And no interest in drugs. But she didn't say that. The last thing she wanted was to offend Brenda. She had already gathered from others that Brenda was considered bad news. She was involved with one of the gangs, and the rumor was that she not only did drugs, but sold them, and one of these days, she was going to get in a whole lot of trouble.

“What's asthma got to do with it? I had a roommate in Chicago who only had one lung, and she used to freebase.”

“I don't know …” Grace said vaguely, “I'm not into that.”

“I'll bet there's a lot of things you haven't tried yet, baby girl.” Brenda laughed again, and Grace walked away with a friendly wave, and then she hurried back to her cell, feeling breathless. She touched the inhaler in her pocket and was reassured to know it was close at hand. Sometimes just knowing that it was there made her breathing easier.

There were movies again that night, and Sally went out again. Her one weakness in life, other than pinups, seemed to be movies. The more violent the better. But Grace hadn't been to one yet, and she was grateful for time alone in her cell after dinner. The room was so small and claustrophobic, but there were times when she was so relieved to be there, and away from everyone, that it actually seemed cozy.

After dinner, their cells were left unlocked unless one requested they be locked up. It allowed for some visiting time for inmates to stop by and see each other, or play games. They played a lot of cards, and a few of them played chess, or Scrabble. It was just understood that from six to nine the cells would be open, and inmates could come and go to various approved locations.