The Trouble Legacy

by E. R. Fallon

  “McCarthy is from the same neighborhood as me,” she told Joy. “Her and her daughter and me, we go way back.”

  “They’re your friends?” Joy asked, and the question made her seem more innocent than she probably was.

  “No,” Camille said with a slight laugh. “Them and I, we’re definitely not friends.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s fine, no worries,” Camille said. She noticed there was a book on Joy’s bed, which she hadn’t seen when she first entered the cell. “What are you reading?” she asked, to let the girl know everything really was fine between them.

  “A crime novel I found in the library. They let us go in there earlier.”

  “Is it any good?”

  “A bit. Do you like to read?”

  “Sometimes,” Camille replied.

  “Your face, how did you get injured? I noticed it earlier,” Joy said to her.

  “Long story. It’s how I ended up in here. Turns out, it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

  “How come you got a limp?”

  “I was shot,” Camille replied.

  “When?”

  “Years ago.” She paused. “This Catherine you mentioned,” she said. “Does she have a big crew in here?”

  “Oh, yeah. They run the place along with the guards from what I heard. You meet any of the other girls yet?”

  “There were two others down in solitary with me.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “Yeah. Esther and Stephanie.” Camille sat down on her bed.

  “Stephanie? If it’s the same Stephanie I met, then she’s part of Catherine’s crew.”

  “No, she can’t be,” Camille said, musing to herself. The girl had seemed so innocent.

  “I’d be careful if I were you. I heard that Stephanie likes to play games. I would assume she knows who you are.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Camille spoke with confidence, “but thanks.”

  “One thing’s clear to me,” Joy said, “We’re gonna need our own crew in here if we want to survive. Who else do you know in here?”

  Camille thought of saying Esther, but because she had an independent personality, she said, “Thanks, but I won’t be in here long enough to need that. I’m confident I’ll make bail.”

  “Suit yourself,” Joy said without sarcasm. “Let me know if you change your mind. I know a couple other women in here, and I’m sure we can form our own crew.”

  Camille had dinner in the cafeteria with Joy and her friends later that day. She spotted Esther and waved, but didn’t see Catherine or Stephanie. The next morning the women were permitted to use the bathroom to shower. Camille hadn’t bathed in days and felt like shit, so she looked forward to a hot shower, even if it was in a group setting. She walked into the room with Joy and her friends, but they all finished before her and exited, and Camille found herself alone in the bathroom, drying herself off.

  She heard a noise, and at the other side of the foggy shower room, she saw someone standing there in prison sandals and an orange jumpsuit, their face obscured by the mist.

  “What the fuck?” Camille muttered to herself as she wrapped the towel around her body. “Who the hell is there?”

  She heard someone entering and saw two more sets of feet standing alongside the taller woman.

  “I’m not playing games,” Camille shouted. “Who the fuck is there?”

  The tall woman stepped out from the fog, and immediately Camille recognized her. Catherine McCarthy, although older and slightly more haggard than when Camille had last seen her years ago, was unmistakable and still very attractive, her beautiful dark hair, now streaked with white.

  “You girls know about this bitch,” Catherine said, in her husky voice. “This is the bitch who stole the neighborhood from me and my girl, Violet.”

  The other women standing at her sides stepped forward. Both were younger than Catherine. One of them, an attractive blonde older than the other, laughed.

  “She don’t look like much,” she said to the other two.

  The youngest of the three, a petite brunette, replied, “She sure don’t,” with a sneer directed at Camille, who recognized the voice as Stephanie’s.

  Joy’s warning had been correct.

  Camille stood with the raggedy towel wrapped around her body and moved into a fighting stance.

  “Three against one, that’s hardly fair,” she said to Catherine. “Afraid to come on your own?”

  “If you’re implying something about my age, you can go fuck yourself,” Catherine spat out at her. “I couldn’t believe when I heard you got put in here. At first, I couldn’t believe my luck. Then I wasn’t sure. Now, I know it’s really you. I had to come see for myself.”

  Three against one. Camille knew she was fucked, that she couldn’t win. She was a good fighter, but she had no weapons on her, no equalizers, and Catherine and her crew might have them. She searched the outlines of their bodies for a sign of a weapon and saw what looked like a shank in Catherine’s hand.

  Catherine noticed her looking and said with a smile, “I’m going to watch you bleed out, Camille. I’m going to make you pay for everything you’ve done to my family.”

  “I only did it because of what you did to mine,” Camille said calmly. “If you hadn’t helped kill my father, then I wouldn’t have done anything to you and your daughter.”

  “It is what it is,” Catherine said, as Camille formulated a plan to deflect them. Catherine clearly wasn’t open to negotiation. Camille searched the area for an exit, but they were blocking the sole one. Fuck it. She wasn’t going to let anyone back her into a corner. She’d fight, and if she died trying, then at least she would have gone out brave. She just hoped Johnny and Phoebe would understand if it came to that.

  “I’m not going to back down, Cathy,” she said, using the name she had once spoken with affection when she’d worked for Catherine and Violet and had been friendly with them.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Catherine replied.

  “You’ll have to kill me,” Camille said.

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  Camille didn’t believe she could count on a guard to come to her rescue, as Joy had made it clear that Catherine was in cahoots with the guards. She must have been set up. By whom? Neale? Joy?

  “You’re gonna cut me?” Camille said to Catherine. “What a coward you are. Why not fight me one on one? Come on, Cathy, let’s have a go, just the two of us, and let the girls watch at the sidelines.”

  “I’ll pass,” Catherine quipped.

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  Catherine stared at her in silence for a second then cleared her throat. “Goodbye, Camille,” she said and lunged toward her.

  Camille jumped out of her way, but couldn’t escape on either side of her, as Stephanie and the other woman blocked her path. She looked for a quick escape, and her only option was to push one of the other women out of the way and make a run for it.

  Catherine came at her again, Camille darted around her, and went straight toward Stephanie, reasoning she’d be easier to get past than the other one.

  Stephanie ran toward her and tried to punch her in the face, but Camille ducked, and the girl missed. Stephanie came at her again and hit Camille in the jaw. The girl wasn’t as feeble as she’d assumed. Camille flew backwards, but caught herself against the wall before she could land on the ground. Catherine turned around and came at Camille as she steadied herself, with the glistening shank in Catherine’s hand, pointed directly at her. Fuck, that thing looked sharp. Camille tried to move around Catherine, and out of her reach, but the other woman, the blonde, stood in her way with her arms crossed, shaking her head.

  “You’re not going anywhere, sweetie,” she said with a little smile on what Camille noticed was her strikingly attractive face.

  13

  Stephanie came at her from behind, followed by Catherine, and the two wom
en grabbed Camille by the arms. She kicked her legs in the air, trying to push the blonde off her. Catherine tossed the shank to the blonde woman, who held it at the very edge of Camille’s chin, taunting her.

  “Still letting others do your dirty work for you?” Camille sneered at Catherine. “What’s the matter, Cathy,” she said, as Catherine flinched slightly, “can’t do the deed yourself?” Camille breathed heavily as she struggled to break free.

  “Shut up, you fucking bitch,” Catherine said. “Cut her, Sharon. Slice this fucking bitch’s throat and do it fast,” she ordered the blonde woman.

  Camille noticed a flicker of hesitation cross the woman’s face and figured she could use it to her advantage. She swung her legs at Sharon’s stomach, and the woman fell back onto the floor. The shank flew across the room and landed at the other side of them.

  Stephanie, who seemed less experienced, released Camille’s arm, and Camille wriggled out of Catherine’s grasp, who couldn’t control her by herself. Camille hobbled out of the shower room and ran straight into the guard Neale outside.

  From the satisfied, smug look on her face, Camille just knew that she had something to do with what just happened, but she couldn’t just go and accuse a guard. Neale had had it in for her from the very beginning.

  “Have a nice shower, Garcia?” Neale said with a sinister grin on her round face.

  Knowing sarcasm wouldn’t get her anywhere except something bad with the guard, Camille answered her, “It was fine.”

  Neale looked at her for a moment, as if deciding whether she liked the answer, then said, “Go on. Hurry back to your cell. Be careful,” she added, “It can be dangerous around here.”

  Camille wanted to tell the guard to go fuck herself, but at the same time, she knew that would only get her another night in solitary, so she trudged away with her head held high.

  Halfway, a male guard she hadn’t seen before collected her and escorted her the remainder of the way to her cell. He opened her cell and let her inside, where Joy waited, looking out the pathetic excuse for a window, a small square that looked out onto the courtyard.

  If she had been set up, it might have been Neale, or it could have been Joy. Camille waited until the guard shut the cell to remark to Joy, “You’ll never guess what just happened to me in the shower room.”

  Joy turned around to look at her, and her expression wasn’t exactly a worried one, but it wasn’t entirely placid either.

  “What?” the girl said.

  “I almost got shanked by Catherine McCarthy and her friends.”

  Joy shook her head, as though she thought that was terrible. “They didn’t hurt you, though, so that’s good.”

  “No, they didn’t. There were three of them, but I’m not that easy to hurt. The thing is somebody must’ve set me up. Some people, that is, must’ve helped it happen.”

  “What are you saying?” Joy said with a grimace. “Are you saying I had something to do with it?”

  “Did you? You and your friends all left me in there, and then Catherine and her crew appeared.”

  “Maybe it was one of the guards,” Joy offered.

  “Yeah, one of them probably helped, too. But, why did you all disappear suddenly?”

  “Because we were done,” Joy said. “You sound fucking paranoid.”

  “I’m learning you have to be in here.” Camille wondered if she’d been wrong to accuse the girl, but she had to watch her back, especially inside these walls.

  Joy sat on her bed and pretended to look at her fingernails.

  “Thinking of getting a manicure?” Camille asked in jest, feeling a little bad that she’d accused the girl, when she didn’t have any evidence.

  “I probably won’t be getting one of those for a long time,” Joy replied with a slight smile, and Camille knew that everything was good between them.

  “You were right about Stephanie,” Camille said to Joy. “She’s part of Catherine’s crew.”

  “Yeah, I heard she’s a sneaky one.” Joy paused then asked her, “What are you gonna do about them trying to slice you? You know they’re gonna come after you again.”

  “I know,” Camille said. “I’m hoping to be out of here on bail before they can.” She was due for a visit from Johnny tomorrow, and she hadn’t seen him in what felt like a month but were merely days.

  The next day, Camille was escorted into the visiting room, and a guard told her to sit at one of the small orange tables. She spotted Neale standing at the other side of the room, watching her. She gave Camille a sardonic smile, and Camille just stared at her. She kept her head turned to the doorway as she waited for Johnny to enter the room.

  After a few minutes, he came in along with a group of other visitors with a guard Camille didn’t recognize leading them. Another guard brought Johnny to her table, and he sat down across from her. Seeing Johnny’s handsome face across from her filled her with a longing to escape. She could feel Neale watching them, and looked up across the room, and, indeed, she was.

  Johnny reached across the table to stroke her hand, and a male guard shouted, “No touching!”

  Johnny pulled away with a despondent expression.

  Camille had so many things she wanted to ask him, starting with how were he and Phoebe coping to had he heard from her lawyer? She hadn’t received a visit from him yet and wondered what was going on.

  “How are you?” Johnny asked her before she could begin her questions.

  “I’ve been better,” Camille said with a slight laugh. “It’s so good to see your face.”

  “Are you doing okay in here? I’ve served time. I know how hard it can be. How are you finding it?” he asked, as though he dreaded to hear her answer.

  Camille didn’t want to alarm him too soon by revealing what had happened to her in the shower room. She planned to let it slip out gradually.

  “It’s what I expected,” she said with honesty.

  “How are the other women treating you? I would imagine it’s better with women than from what I remember from my time with the guys in the slammer.”

  “The girls can be just as bad,” she said, “if not worse.”

  Johnny’s brow crinkled in concern. “Is there something going on, Camille?” he asked.

  She’d never been able to fool him in the past so why had she thought she’d be able to now? She didn’t want to frighten him, but she couldn’t lie to him. Johnny was one of the few people she trusted with all her heart.

  “Catherine McCarthy, remember her?” Camille said.

  “Yeah. What about her?” Johnny asked, his brow furrowing even more.

  “She’s in here with me.”

  “What? How is that possible?”

  “It just is.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of here,” Johnny said, pursing his lips, and his mind seemed to be racing for ideas.

  “She came after me in the bathroom, her and some of her friends,” Camille said.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  Camille shook her head.

  “We’ve got to do something about this,” Johnny said.

  She sat there, looking at him, the reality numbing her.

  “Camille, this is serious,” he said when she didn’t respond.

  “They didn’t hurt me. I got away,” she said.

  “Yeah, but they’re gonna come after you again. They’re gonna keep coming after you until they get you. You know how it works.”

  “What has Mickey said to you? He hasn’t visited me in here yet.”

  “I talked to him. He’s trying to get you out of here, but the prosecutor is a real asshole. The bitch’s got it in for us. She’s giving Mickey a hard time, and the judge is falling for it.”

  “It’s probably that detective, the one who arrested me,” she said. “He seemed like a real fucker.”

  “No, it’s the judge. His father was the judge for your father’s trial. I think he’s got it in for you.”

  Her father, Colin, had been convicted of murdering
his abusive step-father as a teenager, and had served many years in prison. He’d joined a gang upon his release.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Camille said, then realized she’d raised her voice, so she said quietly, “I’ve got bad luck, don’t I?” She could’ve laughed, really, as she couldn’t believe her shit luck. “What the hell has he got against me?”

  Johnny shrugged. “Maybe he thinks the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Johnny gave her a wink. “I’m gonna think of something, so don’t you worry. I’m gonna work on getting you out of here, baby. Mickey and me, we’re gonna get you out of here.”

  “You better do it fast, Johnny. I think Catherine’s got some of the guards on her side in here. She’s got help.”

  “Which ones?” Johnny asked, peering around the room.

  “That one over there across the room, that bitch,” Camille said, indicating Neale without pointing her out to Johnny.

  “She sure looks like a mean bitch,” Johnny said.

  “That’s because she is one,” Camille said with a smile. She paused. “How’s Phoebe handling everything? And you? How are you, really?”

  “Phoebe’s worried about you. She’s never known anyone who’s gone to jail before, except for me.”

  Camille knew she was a mother figure to the teenage girl, and didn’t want to set a bad example.

  “Tell her not to be like me,” she told Johnny and gave him a serious look. “Tell her she’s got to finish school and maybe go to a university.”

  Camille wanted a proper life for her stepdaughter, and didn’t want her becoming involved in gangs like had been her family’s history.

  “I’ll tell her,” Johnny said to her with a wistful smile. “But you’re a good woman, Camille, and I’d love for her to turn out like you. I really want to kiss you right now.”

  “Don’t,” she said, not wanting to concern him further by mentioning her time in solitary confinement, but not wanting to spend another night down there either.

  Johnny gave her a look, like he understood her reason without her having to explain.

  “I love you,” he said.