Insiders

by Olivia Goldsmith

  ‘No. No, thanks.’ Spencer stood up before Suki could get at her. I could tell that she didn’t want to wipe the lipstick off right in front of Theresa, but I also knew she didn’t want to wear it anymore either.

  ‘Gosh, I wish someone was coming to see me,’ Suki said. ‘Even just a lawyer. Cher got some good-looking lawyers.’

  ‘He’s not just my lawyer, he’s my fiancé,’ Jennifer said.

  ‘Oh, wow! Does he know about your boyfriend?’ Suki asked her.

  ‘Lenny is not my boyfriend,’ Jennifer told her, looking around at the rest of us kinda embarrassed.

  ‘Wait,’ Suki said, ‘your accountant is not your boyfriend and your lawyer is your fiancé.’ Then she shook her head. ‘And people say I’m stupid.’

  We all laughed – even Cher. And Spencer laughed, too.

  ‘You need some mascara,’ Suki said, looking at Jennifer.

  ‘I think Cher’s got some,’ Theresa said, all cagey-like.

  ‘How do you know?’ Cher asked.

  ‘Because I saw that Diane from Unit C leaving today. She was all dressed up, but she didn’t have any makeup on. I figure you got to it before she got her effects back.’

  Cher laughed in that evil way of hers, and then leaned over to pull a box out from beneath her bunk. ‘Stand back girls, it’s my turn to help out our little debutante here.’ The box was absolutely filled to overflowing with good makeup that Cher had swiped.

  I just shook my head at her and said, ‘One of these days you’re gonna be busted and you’ll blow your parole stealing shit like that.’

  But nobody paid no mind to what I said. I think everybody was more worried that Cher was gonna put Spencer’s eye out with the mascara brush. But pretty soon we were all laughing again. It was already starting to feel like Jennifer was one of us.

  20

  Jennifer Spencer

  I sit here day after day dealing with all of these wounds inside my head. The kinds of wounds that never heal.

  Bonnie Foreshaw, inmate. Andi Rierden, The Farm

  Jennifer raced back to her cell to take a look in the mirror. Tom would be arriving for visitor’s day any minute. Did she look all right? What a ridiculous question to even ask. How could she look all right in this shapeless jumpsuit, with her frizzy hair, Adobe Red lipstick, and enough mascara to pass as a raccoon? Tom would take one look at her and think: white trash. But it had been fun to be part of that crew. Even so, she rubbed the cheap lipstick roughly off her lips with the palm of her hand. How could Tom, with his prep school upbringing and his country club expectations, possibly look at her and love what he saw?

  But he did love her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think positively. Tom loved her and despite the ridiculous warning she’d gotten from Lenny, Tom and Donald Michaels would do everything in their power to get her out of this dump as soon as possible. He’d make her a lady again, and his wife.

  Jennifer got to the visitor’s room just as an officer called out, ‘Brainard, Jackson, LaBianco, and Spencer. Visitors.’ Jennifer raced inside just a step behind Theresa. She craned her neck for a first glimpse of Tom’s distinguished widow’s peak. Once again she was instantly overwhelmed by the noise, the smells, and the confusion.

  ‘I made you the best chicken potpie!’ a woman shrieked, attacking Theresa and enveloping her in a bear hug.

  A wave of cheap Wal-Mart perfume washed over Jennifer, almost making her pass out. She pushed by Theresa – and the potpie specialist who must have been her sister, Thelma – and made her way to the center of the room to look for Tom. Everywhere little kids were hanging from their mothers’ necks, while grown women tried to shout the latest news over their heads. There were absolutely no men – unless you counted the odious Officer Byrd, standing in one of the corners surveying the crowd. Two female correction officers were on the other side. Where was Tom?

  Just then from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a blue Brooks Brothers suit hanging off broad shoulders. Jennifer rushed across the room and threw her arms around Tom.

  ‘Oh, Tom. Oh …’ she blurted out. Was it true? Was he finally there with her? This couldn’t be another dream, could it? If so, please God, don’t let me wake up.

  ‘Jennifer, sweetheart, let me look at you,’ Tom said, detaching himself from her and looking her over with concern. Jennifer could feel his eyes on her frizzy mop. She reached up to tame it as best she could.

  ‘It kills me to see you like this, honey,’ Tom said. ‘But you look … healthy, at least. Are they feeding you okay?’

  ‘Oh, who cares about that, Tom? What’s going on? When are you getting me out of here!’

  ‘It’s all being worked out,’ Tom told her.

  He reached out and took her hand. It felt so good to have contact with him. Jennifer wished she could kiss him over and over and over again. She wished they could be anywhere except in this miserable room. But most of all she wished they could talk about love and weddings and the future. Jennifer didn’t want to talk about the law.

  ‘We know the judge on this one,’ Tom said as they sat down at the table, ‘and he’s not at all keen on holding up the governor’s latest fad legislation, so –’

  Jennifer cut him off. ‘So, no jury trial. A summary judgment and he’ll find me innocent, right? And I’ll be let out of here?’

  ‘Well …’ Tom picked up her hand and held it in both of his.

  ‘Well, what?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not that simple. The DA’s office is being … difficult.’

  ‘Difficult?’ Jennifer asked. Her heart fluttered in her chest. ‘Tom, you don’t know what it’s like here. I can’t …’ She stopped because she knew that if she went on she’d collapse. She took a deep breath. How could she explain to him how bad it was?

  ‘Look, we feel confident that the judge will go our way this time,’ Tom assured her.

  Jennifer wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Well, what are you going to do to make sure of it, Tom? You’ve got to get me out of here!’ Jennifer heard herself beginning to sound a little hysterical.

  ‘Stay calm, sweetie.’ He looked at her. ‘That’s the most important thing right now. Just keep calm and quiet – the model prisoner. Stay ladylike and let us do the dirty work for you.’

  She tried to smile. ‘Tom, you can’t be ladylike here.’

  ‘Oh, babe.’ Tom leaned forward across the table and lowered his voice. ‘You know Donald’s behind you all the way on this one. Do you know the resources he’s thrown behind you on this?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not just Howard McBane. Christ, half of Swithmore, McBane are billing their time to you. You know that Donald won’t take no for an answer. So sit tight, and you’ll be in the catbird seat when this is all over.’

  Jennifer looked at him intently, trying to believe that it would all work out in the end. ‘How much longer will it take?’ she said finally.

  ‘Oh, under a month.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Trust me.’

  Tom leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. Then he pulled out a pad. ‘Now tell me what you need,’ he said gently. ‘And we’ll make sure to get it to you right away.’

  ‘What I need,’ Jennifer said, angry with his calm efficiency, ‘is some fresh air and for you to get me the hell out of here.’

  Tom made a gesture of annoyance with his hand, and then sighed and started speaking slowly, as if talking to a child. ‘Okay. I got the point,’ he told her. ‘You think I enjoy spending my Saturday morning like this? We’ve gone over this, Jennifer. What more do you need me to tell you?’

  As Jennifer looked at him, she realized with a sudden feeling of horror that Tom had changed. His eyes, his tone of voice, the way he kissed her on the forehead … ‘Do you still love me, Tom?’ she asked abruptly. Something told her that she had to ask, that their emotional landscape had changed, but if the answer wasn’t yes, she was certain her heart would stop beating.

  Tom�
��s lips tightened and he averted his eyes. ‘Yes, of course. But …’

  Jennifer heard the three-letter word and knew that those three letters shook her world.

  ‘Jennifer, you know I care for you deeply. But, under the circumstances …’ he stammered and began again. ‘You know my family – it would be very bad publicity for them if I was involved with … a convict and –’

  ‘Are you insane?’ she asked. ‘Are you calling me a convict? If I hadn’t agreed to do this it would be you and Donald in jail!’

  ‘Jennifer, that isn’t even true,’ Tom said, stiffening, ‘and as your attorney I advise you not to say it again.’ He paused and looked down, his eyes narrowed. ‘I’m your lawyer. I think it’s best if we consider our personal relationship over. When this has all blown over, I’m sure things can go back to normal, but for now it’s not a good idea.’

  Jennifer stared at him in disbelief. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m returning the engagement ring to the jeweler. I’ll make a small statement to the press that we are no longer romantically involved – by mutual choice – but that I am still your close friend and that I will fight your case to the end.’

  ‘Taking back the ring?’ she asked. As if the jewelry was at issue.

  ‘It’s really for the best. You need to concentrate on your appeal – you don’t need emotional complications –’

  ‘But Tom, this is when I need you the most!’ Jennifer felt herself on the verge of tears. ‘I need your love, I need your support! You can’t abandon me now!’

  ‘That’s not the way I see it – as abandoning. I’m still your lawyer. And really, Jennifer, you need to think of me, too. My position, my reputation.’

  ‘Your reputation? I made your reputation. Without my high-powered deals, you would have been nothing. You were a nobody when I met you! And now you have the balls – or lack thereof – to leave me in the lurch? You’re a lily-livered coward of a nobody!’

  ‘You’re angry, now, so maybe I should just leave. But I’ll be in touch soon to talk about your case. I really do care about you, Jennifer. Be that as it may,’ he began in what Jennifer had already learned to call his lawyer voice.

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ she interrupted. ‘If you break up with me now, Tom, I swear I –’ Jennifer stopped suddenly. She realized she had nothing to threaten him with – she had no leverage at all. No matter what he did, she still needed him to fight her case – he was her only card. Even now, when he was treating her like the worst doormat, she could do nothing to fight back. She felt so helpless, she wanted to attack him, to claw at his face, or at her own, to fall onto the floor and kick and scream. Instead she froze and wished her heart would stop, but it wasn’t as easy as that.

  ‘Jennifer, it might be hard to see this now but in the end everything will be okay. Don’t worry,’ he told her.

  If she could have she would have laughed, but all she said was, ‘Nothing will ever be okay again.’ And then she slapped him. Firmly and soundly, right across his face.

  Tom lifted a hand to his cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, as if that meant anything. As if saying that helped. He stood up and turned away. She watched him – his tall, graceful figure weaving through the hubbub of the room to the door.

  He was gone. Just like that.

  Jennifer thought she’d felt the lowest of the low in Observation and during her first meal in the cafeteria, but this was a new lowness of black despair, the kind that she’d never imagined could exist and that she wouldn’t even wish on her worst enemy – who was now Tom.

  Book II

  21

  Cher McInnery

  A woman always has her revenge ready.

  Jean Baptiste Poquelin (Molière)

  When Jennifer Spencer finally busted up, she shattered like a bad egg hitting a brick henhouse.

  Cher was in the visitor’s room, meeting with her lawyer, when Jennifer bent across the table and smacked her visitor across the face with a slap that brought silence to the visitors at tables around her. Cher and her latest lawyer – Jeffery – were just about finished anyway. She bent over and said, ‘Enough of this.’ Cher wanted to see the fun. She got up quickly and watched Jennifer from a distance. She didn’t want to get too close because when someone went ballistic you just didn’t know what they might be able to pull out.

  But Jennifer didn’t go ballistic. She calmly stood up and left the room. Maybe Cher’s instincts were wrong. Maybe the poor bitch would just cry herself to sleep. Cher followed Jennifer out of the room and was disappointed when she saw her turn into her cell. It would be hard for Cher to see what would happen next. But Cher stationed herself in the hallway and waited. Sure enough, in a moment Jennifer Spencer, her eyes blank and her face the gray-white of a blue jay’s belly, walked out of her house and into the rec room. Cher smiled. Oh yeah. She could see big trouble coming.

  Cher watched from the doorway while Jennifer walked to the pay phones and then just stood there and stared at them. Then suddenly she picked up the phone and made a call. Cher moved in closer. ‘Collect to Donald J. Michaels,’ she heard the deb say. Jesus! Donald J. Michaels was one of the biggest guys on Wall Street. He was bigger than Trump, bigger than Milken ever was. Was he the guy the deb had been involved with?

  Cher waited, as did Jennifer Spencer. Then Cher heard her say, ‘Operator, tell that secretary this is important. He has to accept the charges and speak to me. Make it collect and person-to-person from Jennifer Spencer.’ Cher watched as nothing happened. Well, nothing happened on the other end of the line, but some huge systems crash was happening behind the deb’s eyes. Slowly Jennifer began to shake, then she grasped the telephone for support. She was standing right in front of the TV but didn’t hear the women’s wails of protest as she blocked their view of the screen, nor did she notice the line of others who were waiting to use the phone. Angry women in the rec room continued to shout at Jennifer to ‘move your fucking head, bitch,’ while Cher smiled. Some stood and moved toward her to forcibly take her out of the way. It was certain that Jennifer was about to get a real walloping.

  But then suddenly Spencer flew into action. She crammed the receiver into its cradle. She was going off. Cher watched as Jennifer picked up a chair, and with a strength that Cher would not have ever expected, hurled it up and across the room. It smashed against the wall right under the clock. Half of the women were up and out of the way before it bounced to the ground. But Jennifer was moving and didn’t wait for the bounce. In three long strides she too crossed the room to a table where Flora and Gloria were sitting. Jennifer slashed her arms across the puzzle they were putting together, flinging the pieces all over. Gloria screamed, and Flora slid from her chair and crouched behind it while the table followed the chair and hit the wall. Cher held back a laugh. She hated those friggin’ jigsaw bitches anyway. The way Cher saw it, the debutante was finally coming out.

  Meanwhile, the inmates with IQs in the three figures had hit the deck, while a few of the stupid ones were still in the ‘Hey, what the fuck …’ protest stage. Cher realized she’d better make sure she kept her nose clean, because even being a victim now might put her parole at risk. But before she could duck, she was joined at the doorway by a group of other prisoners from the unit. Movita was one of them. ‘What’s happenin’?’ Movita asked.

  ‘Looks like yer new crew member is goin’ postal,’ Cher told her, lifting an eyebrow but managing to repress a sneer. Behind her the noise in the rec room had increased while Spencer threw chairs, magazines, cards, books, and anything else she could grab hold of. Monopoly money fluttered in the air while half the tiles of a Scrabble game hit the window with hard tiny taps.

  ‘Oh, fuck!’ Movita said. Cher had to admit to herself that she was surprised. She didn’t think the debutante had it in her. Cher could hear the stampede of COs running down the hall to the unit. Shit, she thought, we’ll all be in lockdown in a minute!

  Suki came skittering up. ‘Byrd, Camry, and Ro
driguez are leading a whole squad over here,’ she gasped. Then, jumping like a puppy, she tried to get a look over Cher’s shoulder. ‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘It’s Jenny.’ She started to push past Cher but Movita restrained her.

  ‘Leave her be,’ Movita said.

  In the rec room Jennifer overturned the last standing table while the rest of the crew watched from the door. Theresa took one look, shook her head, and backed away. ‘Do you know what got her goin’?’ Movita asked Cher.

  Cher shrugged. ‘Bad news from her lawyer,’ she said.

  ‘Tom?’ Suki explained. ‘Her fiancé?’

  ‘Oh, shit,’ Movita murmured.

  ‘Men. They are no good,’ Cher said using a fake Latino accent.

  ‘It’s important to release your anger,’ Theresa said. ‘But it’s just as important to do it in a positive, not negative way.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor Laura,’ Movita said, and Cher snickered.

  The noise of overturned furniture stopped, and they all froze as a long and painful wail of despair pierced the unit. They witnessed Jennifer Spencer’s complete emotional meltdown. Jennifer fell to the floor and began to roll. Her horrifying wails intermingled with the blaring play-by-play broadcast of the television. Cher and the rest of the crew knew better, but one busybody – Carolyn Weltz, the recently born again – knelt beside Jennifer. ‘The Lord is my shepherd,’ she began, and Cher was pleased to see Jennifer lash out at her like a feral cat cornered in a dark basement.

  It was then that the COs, wearing thick yellow rubber gloves, chest protectors, and clear face masks, pushed through the crowd at the doorway. The gear was needed to protect themselves against bites or contact with bodily fluids. Cher had to admit it was a good idea in this case. The debutante probably was a biter, though Cher doubted that her bodily fluids presented a health hazard to Officer Byrd or those other sons-of-bitches. Just to increase the racket, the sirens began. The team surrounded Jennifer as she continued to scream and kick, her arms brutally wrenched behind her back by the bastardly Byrd. Cher saw him knee her before he secured her arms tightly with the plastic cuffs. But the damn deb never stopped caterwauling. She was yanked to her feet but collapsed again to the floor. When she refused to stand, the officers lifted her and carried her from the room, shrieking and sobbing and demanding to see the Warden.