by Emery, Lynn
“You lucky that guard stopped me.” Monette pointed a finger at her.
“Y’all been like sisters ever since, right?” Tyeisha sat cross-legged on the floor, like a kid listening to her parents tell stories.
“We had a few more spirited discussions before that. Candi played tough girl. Well, she wasn’t playing.” Monette looked at her friend with affection.
“Damn right. Had to get more than a few of those witches straight before the word got around. Then I grew up and just did my time.” Candi looked Monette up and down, a gentle expression on her face. “You look good, Monette.”
“So do you,” Monette replied.
“Psssh. I packed on fifteen pounds, and look at all this gray in my hair. One good thing about LCIW, we had the best hairdressers around in there. Didn’t we?”
Monette laughed. “Remember Glorine? She’s working in a shop in New Orleans.”
“She could style some hair. You know they want fifty dollars to touch up a perm out here? I got to get me a raise.” Candi let out a hiss of disgust. Then she nodded at Monette. “Miss Rich and Famous don’t have that problem. I ain’t mad at her though.”
Monette felt uncomfortable when the women all gazed at her. “Not so famous or rich, so don’t get too jealous.”
“Hey everybody.” A tall woman with her reddish hair in cornrows stood out in the hallway looking through mail in her hand.
“Hi, Yarva. This is Monette. You know my friend I told you about? She finally got here,” Candi called out“Right. Pardon me for not hangin’ out but I’m gonna get out of these work clothes.” Yarva nodded at Monette and headed for the stairs. The name of a janitorial service was stamped on the pocket of her gray work shirt.
Candi waved at two other women who arrived. Introductions were made all around. Within the next hour, ten of the other residents arrived. Most came from work. Two of the women worked weekends only and did community service during the week. One by one they all went to their rooms. Tyeisha and Candi stayed behind with Monette. Tyeisha bobbed her head to music coming from the television. Monette smiled at the younger woman, who had become engrossed in a music video.
Candi nodded for Monette to join her in a seating area across the room. “You called any of your people yet?”
“Mama wasn’t home. I’ll talk to them later.” Monette gave a shrug that Candi understood. She wanted to change the subject from family. “Look at you working as head chef at some fancy restaurant.”
“Girl, please,” Candi said with a snort. “I’m a short-order cook at a greasy hole-in-the-wall. Them fancy folks at the fancy restaurant wasn’t comfortable with my dirty history. Fine with me. They wasn’t payin’ what I was worth.”
“That’s messed up, Candi.” Monette saw past her attempt to brush off losing the job.
“Whatever. Now you’re the one with a dream gig. On national TV, got a book deal. That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.” Candi snapped her fingers.
“I earned it with almost fifteen years out of my life. That’s the downside to all this fame. Still, I’m blessed. Could still be in the prison laundry room.” Monette did not want to sound ungrateful, especially with the hardships Candi and others faced.
“I hear ya. Which is why I ain’t sweatin’ one job. I’m so glad to see you, girl.” Candi hugged Monette again.
“Me, too.” Monette patted her friend’s cheek when they pulled apart.
“Phew. I stink of fried chicken fingers. I’m gonna take a warm shower if I can get in one of the bathrooms. Y’all better not be using up all the hot water,” Candi shouted as she went into the hallway.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Yarva yelled back. “Who told you to stay down there runnin’ your mouth?”
Eventually the living room emptied of everyone but Monette. She listened to the women’s voices as they exchanged chatter. Despite what Candi and Tyeisha might think, Monette felt unsure about her future. All the glamour did not translate into an instant life in the free world. Monette still had unfinished business with her adult children and the rest of her family. A book deal and talk show would not solve all her problems. Trudy came in and straightened magazines on the table.
“You’ve met the ladies already,” she said as she continued to fuss with objects in the room.
Monette expected her to take out a white glove, slip it on one hand, and swipe down the surfaces. “Yeah. Nice group from what I can tell.”
“We’ve been careful in selecting our participants. The board felt you would be an asset” Trudy checked the room temperature displayed on the thermostat before she turned to face Monette.
“I appreciate them for accepting me.” Monette returned her gaze with an impassive expression. She crossed her legs.
“Several of them feel that you can bring positive media attention to New Beginnings. I hope that’s true. Helping you adjust and start your new life is what we’re most concerned about.”
“I won’t do anything to embarrass New Beginnings or make the board regret their decision.” Monette never lost her relaxed pose. She continued to stare at the director.
“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Trudy replied. When Candi, Tyeisha and Yarva came in, Trudy smiled at them. “Don’t forget the special house meeting tonight. We won’t take long, since everyone has met Monette anyway. The twelve-step meeting will be after dinner.”
“Okay, Trudy,” Yarva said with a smile back at her. They watched Trudy leave.
“Okay, Trudy,” Candi mimicked Yarva with a snicker as she tossed an apple into the air and caught it. “I thought your nose had gotten so brown from being out in the sun. Now I know better.” Tyeisha laughed and fell into a chair. “Candi is so crazy.”
“Damn right. Trudy talks to my parole officer every week. I’m gonna be sweet as my grandmama’s lemon ice box pie when Trudy is in the room.” Yarva flipped her fingers to show she didn’t care about Candi’s joke.
“If you hadn’t been such a badass maybe your parole officer wouldn’t be riding your butt,” Candi tossed back.
“I’ve seen the error of my wicked ways. Okay?” Yarva sat down in a chair and looked at Monette. “So you’re the famous author and talk-show darlin’. Nice work if you can get it.”
“Which obviously you can’t.” Candi flopped down on the sofa next to Monette. She bit into the apple, and then crunched the crisp chunk.
“I didn’t get pimped by the right rich white dude,” Yarva replied with a shrug. She grinned as though being friendly. When Candi and Tyeisha frowned at her, she raised both hands. “What?”
“That wasn’t funny,” Candi snapped.
“Geez, we tease each other all the time. Guess your old cellmate is off limits.” Yarva rolled her eyes. She stood and walked out.
“It’s okay, Candi.” Monette put a hand on Candi’s arm to keep her from following Yarva.
“I don’t know what’s up with her. She’s not usually a hater.” Candi gazed after Yarva for a second, and then turned back to Monette.
Monette thought about the challenges of building a new life. Staying sober and following rules had been easy in prison. The question was, could she do it with no locks between her and the street?
“One jealous ex-con is the least of my worries,” Monette said.
Chapter 2
Two days later Monette was well into what she thought of as her probationary period at New Beginnings. All new residents were required to use those first few days to adjust to the rules and being on the outside again. According to the social worker, women did better if they didn’t try to jump into things too soon. No job hunting right away, no visitors, and limited phone calls, especially to old pals. Monette had spent individual sessions with Trudy and Sherrial, the social worker at New Beginnings, planning her gradual reentry into the free world. Unlike most of the other women, Monette had a calendar of appointments. Part of her parole required that she commit at least fifteen hours each week to community service. With help from the female minister who had run the prison ministry, whi
ch proved to be no problem for Monette. Reverend Moody had invited Monette to be the morning speaker at a conference for social workers and activists. On that bright spring Monday morning, Monette dressed carefully in a navy blue skirt suit and pink blouse. She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror and grimaced.
“Damn, I look like a tight-assed librarian.”
“Out here in the world the tight-assed look is in,” Candi teased before she left for work.
“Gee, thanks for the inspiring send-off,” Monette retorted and shook a fist at her.
Despite being nervous about facing a crowd of educated people who had never sat on the wrong side of prison bars, Monette got through it. She was part of a panel discussion on women in prison and the special problems they face upon release. Having Sherrial at her side definitely helped. The daylong conference wrapped up at four that afternoon. Monette did not relax until they were in the car on their way back to the hallway house. When they walked inside, Monette let out a long, slow breath. Trudy came down the hall to the foyer as they entered.
“How did it go?” Trudy asked.
“Very good. Everyone was really impressed with what Monette had to say.” Sherrial smiled at Monette.
“I needed to hear that. 1 was scared that I sounded stupid,” Monette said to the social worker in a rush of gratitude.
“Not at all. You were nervous after being on national television? I saw that interview and you were great,” Sherrial said.
“Only a few people were in the studio, so that was easy. Having an auditorium full of smart folks staring at me was hard.” Monette gave a shudder. She hadn’t anticipated just how hard it would be. All those accomplished women made her even more aware of her lack of education and her past.
“Social workers need to hear from people who have lived the experience. You educated them,” Sherrial said with a nod.
“Me, huh? Wow. I have something to say beyond being the hot story of the moment?” Monette liked the way that sounded.
“Yes. Sensationalism is one thing, but truly making a difference is a real contribution,” Trudy added. She started back toward her office, where the phone was ringing. “Congratulations, Monette. You’ve made a good start.”
“Making a contribution.” Monette thought about her chance to have a radio show. She looked at her reflection in the hall mirror. The conservative clothes did not seem so alien after all.
A tall man the color of milk chocolate walked through the front door. He wore a light blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Monette saw his reflection over her shoulder in the mirror. She stopped fussing with her hair. In the same instant he noticed her. They gazed at each other for a few seconds before Monette looked away. When she turned around, she saw that Sherrial was smiling at him.
“Hi, Jayson. You finished the oil change on our van, I guess.” Sherrial took the sheet of paper he handed her.
“Sure did. Put some antifreeze in the radiator. Cleaned it for you, too. No charge this time. Just spread the word that I’m going to do detailing work.” Jayson darted sideways glances at Monette while he talked.
“I sure will.” Sherrial took the keys from him and read the invoice.
“Y’all got a new social worker. Hi.” Jayson dipped his head to Monette in a gentlemanly greeting.
“Monette Victor. I moved in a few days ago. Nice to meet you.” Monette smiled when his dark eyes widened in surprise. She liked being mistaken for regular people, especially by a fine man.
“I’m sorry. Forgot my manners,” Sherrial said, and then looked at the second page of the invoice. “This is Jayson Odum. He owns Quality Car Care Centers.”
“I’d shake hands with you, Ms. Victor, but I’ve been working on cars since six this morning. I’d hate to ruin that pretty outfit you’re wearing.” Jayson wore a shy smile.
“You know the old saying, Dirty hands, pure heart. Or something like that. Thanks for the compliment.”
Monette liked the way his full lips curved more to the right, forming a dimple in one cheek. Jayson was not classically handsome, but when he smiled his brown eyes lit up. He had a rough kind of grace. Monette forced her gaze away when he glanced at her again.
“I’ll take this in for Trudy’s signature and get your check,” Sherrial said and left them alone in the hallway.
Jayson cleared his throat. He shoved his hands in both pockets of his work pants. “So, you live here.”
“Yeah. Live here, not work here.”
Monette felt an urge to tell him her whole story; that she had been sent to prison by a vindictive jilted lover who happened to have been the district attorney in Pointe Coupee Parish. She hadn’t exactly been an angel either. She’d partied with the wrong people and made a lot of mistakes. Those mistakes had left her vulnerable. A jury had had no trouble believing that Monette had had a part in selling drugs.
“Well, good luck on making a new start,” Jayson said in a polite tone.
“Thanks,” Monette replied, matching his reserved attitude.
He had the Sunday-school manners of a typical “nice guy” from a proper, middle-class black family. Still, the handsome face and strapping body made for a nice package. Not usually her type though. Too tame. Not only that, he’d probably already judged her. Monette wiped away fantasies involving cautious flirting that might lead to more.
“Nice meeting you.” Monette nodded and turned to leave.
“Same here,” he called after her.
Yarva strolled out of the living room. She grinned at Jayson. “Hey, good-looking. Hope you delivered my BMW in good shape.”
“Hi, Yarva. She’s parked out front. Ready for a ride,” Jayson answered, falling right in on the joke. “How have you been?”
“Good, good. See you’ve met our local celebrity.” Yarva blocked Monette’s path. “Not the typical halfway house hag. Right, famous lady?”
Monette shook off the desire to tell Yarva where she could go. She was aware of Jayson’s curious gaze. Instead she forced a smile and shrugged as she tried to go around Yarva. “More like flavor of the month. Excuse me.”
“Don’t be modest. Jayson, you must have heard about Monette here. She’s the one who got set up for prison by Winn Barron. You remember that whole case.” Yarva did not move. “Wrote a book about it, went on TV and everything.”
“Wait a minute, I did read about you in a newspaper article,” Jayson said and snapped his fingers. “Winn Barron was the DA back then and he set you up because …” His voice trailed off.
Monette sighed and faced him again. She would definitely see that look of judgment in his dark brown eyes now. “Yes, I’m that Monette Victor.”
“I’m glad you finally got justice. Well, sort of.” Jayson walked toward her. “You should have been pardoned, not paroled. Anybody looking at the facts could see you were framed.”
Yarva scowled. Her plan to humiliate Monette seemed to have backfired. “Yeah, she’s a real Joan of Arc alright”“I’m no saint for sure,” Monette said. She felt uneasy at the way Jayson stared at her. “My lifestyle made it easy for Barron to set me up.”
“That still doesn’t make what happened to you right I’m all for being tough on crime, but locking up innocent people is even more criminal in my book,” Jayson said with force.
“Well, uh, thanks. Again.” Monette blushed at the passion in his voice. She gave him a tentative smile.
“Aren’t you writing a book about your experiences?” Jayson seemed genuinely interested, not just being polite.
“Actually I already wrote it. On sale at bookstores everywhere.” Monette laughed. “My publisher makes me say that. I think they even wrote it into my contract.”
“Excellent. Like Dr. Martin Luther King said once, the truth pressed to earth shall rise again. I’m going to pick up a copy. Hope you’ll sign it for me,” Jayson said. He wore a serious expression for a moment then his smile broke through like sunshine from behind a cloud.
“Sure will.” Monette enjoyed the warm
th and light coming from him.
“So anyway, Jayson, you gonna be at the rec center down at Starlight Baptist Church Friday?” Yarva moved until she halfway blocked Monette’s view of him.
“Gotta catch up at the garage. Speaking of which.” Jayson nodded as Trudy approached. “Nice talking to you ladies.”
“Same here. Don’t work too hard.” Monette cursed herself for not being more original. She started for the stairs but took her time walking out.
“Here you go, Jayson. Thanks for giving us more for our money,” Trudy said.
“I aim to keep my customers satisfied, ma’am.”
Yarva hung around in the hallway. Once Trudy disappeared back into her office, she exchanged more small talk with Jayson after he accepted a check and paperwork from Trudy. Monette glanced back over her shoulder in time to see him wave from the front door, then leave. She waved back before going to her room. Moments later, Candi arrived home from her job.
“Damn, whoever wrote that song about Mondays being a bitch didn’t lie,” she blurted out unceremoniously, then flopped down on the bed next to Monette’s.
“Which song?” Monette took off her jacket and slipped on an oversized Southern University T-shirt.
“All of ’em, girl. How ’bout some fool comes in and hands me a fake twenty. Like I ain’t been around enough to know.” Candi grunted as she took off her athletic shoes.
“What did you do?” Monette slipped off her skirt and panty hose, and put on a pair of jeans.
“Grabbed that silly youngster around her wrist and whispered, ‘You better pay with real money or I tell my boss.’ They know Willie Lee don’t play that crap. He’ll lock ’em in the storeroom until cops come to haul ’em away.” Candi sighed as she rubbed her feet.
“I’m guessing she paid up.” Monette brushed her hair back into place and studied her face in the mirror again.
“Damn straight. I ain’t having my check docked cause of some wannabe baby player. I’m gonna rest my eyes for a minute before I clean up.” Candi sank down on the bed with her eyes closed.
Monette took out a legal pad with notes for her next book. She tried to concentrate, but couldn’t. So she arranged her belongings on the dresser top. After that she tried to read material on the radio station that wanted her to host a show. Her thoughts kept whirling around all the decisions she had to make.
