when he'd meet someone who didn't fawn over him. Someone who treated him like a regular guy. But it was all out of his hands now. Stacy wouldn't want to see him again as Chance Jamison and she didn't remember the man he used to be. And if she wanted to forget the past he'd let her. But could he?
***
Hell had a smell--stale coffee, cheap perfume and body odor. Stacy looked at the female guard and counted to ten. The woman's hair was in an intricate array of corkscrew curls, at least three different colors, and she had glitter on the tips of her eyelashes. The eyelashes didn't soften her look and Stacy thought they looked more appropriate for someone attending an underground party than in an office setting. Stacy reminded herself that she wouldn't--couldn't--get angry. She wouldn't let the other woman's attitude upset her. Anger had gotten her here in the first place and, if she wasn't careful, she'd end up there for good. Besides, the woman probably had had a bad day. Stacy wished she could summon up the emotion to care. It was her first day at the women’s detention center and things were not going well. To begin with, when she had turned up at the facility, the staff up front gave her a hard time and told her that her name was not on the list.
"I am the instructor for the women’s creative writing class," she'd said.
"Sorry, but we don’t have you on our list."
"Listen, I was ordered to teach this class and it is supposed to start today." The guard looked her up and down, then ordered her to sit and wait while she 'checked' things out. After having to wait at least forty-five minutes, sitting on a cold, dirty bench, the guard with the glitter lashes called her up to the counter. "You know there's no need to have an attitude."
That's when Stacy started to count to ten. She didn't move, afraid that if she did, she'd do something dangerous.
"Your class is located in the cafeteria," Glitter Lashes continued. "It’s way in the back."
There were no apologies, her tone bored and dismissive. Stacy began to count to twenty, but still didn't move.
"Are you deaf or something? I told you where you need to go."
Stacy knew where she wanted to tell this woman to go. But obviously she was already in hell so it didn't matter. This was the guard's domain. She was under her control and had to respect her influence. At one time in her life she'd dined with multi-millionaires and celebrities. How could her life have come to this?
"Is something wrong with you?" Glitter Lashes snapped.
"No," Stacy said in cool voice. She glanced again at the corkscrew curls on the woman's head half expecting them to move like snakes. I'm sorry Medusa. I just took one look at you and turned to stone. "Thank you for your help," she said trying her hardest not to sound sarcastic.
"You're welcome," Glitter Lashes said then, to Stacy's amazement, she smiled as if genuinely pleased by Stacy's words and she suddenly looked more human. "And I mean it. Watch your attitude in there or they'll eat you alive."
"I'll remember that," Stacy said softening her tone and this time when she added a quick 'thanks' she meant it.
Stacy passed by the first guard to an area where all her belongings were searched--even a body search, which she found humiliating. Although the male guard used a metal wand, and didn’t physically touch her, she felt his eyes, and those of his colleagues undress her. She cringed at the thought of having to go through this process every time she came to teach the class for the next twelve weeks. She almost wished the woman with the corkscrew curls had come with her. By the time she found the sign to the cafeteria, her mood had plummeted.
The women clearly didn't want to be there and neither did she. Her course wasn't mandatory. Most of the women who'd signed up just wanted to get out of their cell. The Vernon County Women’s Detention Center was a minimum security facility, that in some ways, looked like a college campus, but the
***
Hell had a smell--stale coffee, cheap perfume and body odor. Stacy looked at the female guard and counted to ten. The woman's hair was in an intricate array of corkscrew curls, at least three different colors, and she had glitter on the tips of her eyelashes. The eyelashes didn't soften her look and Stacy thought they looked more appropriate for someone attending an underground party than in an office setting. Stacy reminded herself that she wouldn't--couldn't--get angry. She wouldn't let the other woman's attitude upset her. Anger had gotten her here in the first place and, if she wasn't careful, she'd end up there for good. Besides, the woman probably had had a bad day. Stacy wished she could summon up the emotion to care. It was her first day at the women’s detention center and things were not going well. To begin with, when she had turned up at the facility, the staff up front gave her a hard time and told her that her name was not on the list.
"I am the instructor for the women’s creative writing class," she'd said.
"Sorry, but we don’t have you on our list."
"Listen, I was ordered to teach this class and it is supposed to start today." The guard looked her up and down, then ordered her to sit and wait while she 'checked' things out. After having to wait at least forty-five minutes, sitting on a cold, dirty bench, the guard with the glitter lashes called her up to the counter. "You know there's no need to have an attitude."
That's when Stacy started to count to ten. She didn't move, afraid that if she did, she'd do something dangerous.
"Your class is located in the cafeteria," Glitter Lashes continued. "It’s way in the back."
There were no apologies, her tone bored and dismissive. Stacy began to count to twenty, but still didn't move.
"Are you deaf or something? I told you where you need to go."
Stacy knew where she wanted to tell this woman to go. But obviously she was already in hell so it didn't matter. This was the guard's domain. She was under her control and had to respect her influence. At one time in her life she'd dined with multi-millionaires and celebrities. How could her life have come to this?
"Is something wrong with you?" Glitter Lashes snapped.
"No," Stacy said in cool voice. She glanced again at the corkscrew curls on the woman's head half expecting them to move like snakes. I'm sorry Medusa. I just took one look at you and turned to stone. "Thank you for your help," she said trying her hardest not to sound sarcastic.
"You're welcome," Glitter Lashes said then, to Stacy's amazement, she smiled as if genuinely pleased by Stacy's words and she suddenly looked more human. "And I mean it. Watch your attitude in there or they'll eat you alive."
"I'll remember that," Stacy said softening her tone and this time when she added a quick 'thanks' she meant it.
Stacy passed by the first guard to an area where all her belongings were searched--even a body search, which she found humiliating. Although the male guard used a metal wand, and didn’t physically touch her, she felt his eyes, and those of his colleagues undress her. She cringed at the thought of having to go through this process every time she came to teach the class for the next twelve weeks. She almost wished the woman with the corkscrew curls had come with her. By the time she found the sign to the cafeteria, her mood had plummeted.
The women clearly didn't want to be there and neither did she. Her course wasn't mandatory. Most of the women who'd signed up just wanted to get out of their cell. The Vernon County Women’s Detention Center was a minimum security facility, that in some ways, looked like a college campus, but the
Similar Books
Society Wives
Renee Flagler
The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt
Eleanor Roosevelt
A Deniable Death
Gerald Seymour
The Promise of Light
Paul Watkins
Simply Unforgettable
Mary Balogh
Forget About Midnight
Trina M Lee
The Border Vixen
Bertrice Small
20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth
Xiaolu Guo
Fallen
Elise Marion