Insiders

by Olivia Goldsmith

  She decided she’d get a delivery from Balthazar. She was crazy for sticky buns, and she wanted to see what a sticky bun that cost five bucks tasted like. It was an extravagance that she couldn’t really afford, but she’d worry about that later. As soon as she was working with JoJo she’d eat three five-dollar sticky buns a day if she wanted to. She dialed the number on the menu and was surprised when the voice on the other end answered with, ‘Good morning, Miss Spencer. How may I help you?’

  A lot had changed in the five years Cher had been at Jennings. Every damn place in America had new telephone systems that let them know who was calling before they even asked and a computer record right there with everything they needed to know about you. But Cher didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d like to order breakfast,’ she said casually.

  ‘Would that be your usual order?’ was the next question.

  Cher thought, why not? ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Send over the usual.’ Her stomach knotted at the thought of how much she was spending, but she was curious to know just what ‘the usual’ was for someone like Jennifer Spencer.

  ‘And we’ll just put that on your American Express as usual, right?’ asked the order taker.

  When Cher heard that, the knot in her stomach instantly untied and she was suddenly hungrier than she had ever been before in her life. ‘You bet,’ she said. ‘Just put it on the American Express.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Spencer. Your breakfast will be there in ten minutes.’

  It was better than very good, thought Cher, this was damn good. With breakfast on its way, Cher picked up the phone to make another very necessary call. She flipped through Jennifer’s address file until she found ‘Branston, Tom,’ and she dialed the number. She felt a deep sexual itch that just needed to be scratched. Tom Branston was a very handsome man – maybe a bit of a slimebag, but one in very nice packaging. Cher had always been attracted to those Wall Street types in their fancy suits. Now she had one of her own.

  ‘Good morning, Tommy,’ she cooed when she heard him answer. ‘I’m all settled in.’

  The first thing Cher had done after she got to New York City was to look up Jennifer’s old beau. From what she had heard from the debutante, this guy was a bit of a dim bulb who thought primarily with his crotch. Cher had known plenty of guys like him. You had only to stroke the ego – and nothing else – to get what you wanted. Branston was no exception, and Cher played him like a cheap piano. When he heard that Cher was just released from Jennings, he was more than anxious to meet with her. Of course, Cher intimated that the deb had told her more than old Tom wanted anyone to know, and fearing blackmail, he willingly agreed to meet for a drink. That’s when Cher surprised him with an easy way out. She had faked a letter from Jennifer asking for Tom’s help in securing a ‘sublet’ on the apartment for Cher. ‘She wants me to look after her belongings,’ Cher assured the initially dubious attorney. When she showed him that she had Jennifer’s keys, he believed her. Tom cleared Cher’s way with the co-op board, and she moved in.

  ‘I just wanted to say thank you,’ Cher told Tom over the phone. ‘Maybe I can do that personally sometime, huh?’ she teased. She imagined that Mr Branston, like every other healthy young stud in the world, woke up ready for action. She would’ve been happy to help out with a little phone sex, but breakfast had arrived and Tom would have to finish up on his own. She bid him ‘bye bye’ and hung up. Always leave ‘em asking for more, Cher thought. She smiled as she thought about how she might eventually pluck that chicken naked.

  It seemed Jennifer Spencer shared Cher’s taste for sticky buns. The ‘usual’ suited Cher just fine – as did everything she found in the closet. It was like dying and going to fashion boutique heaven to pick out an outfit from the debutante’s closet. Cher tried on every damn suit in the wardrobe, but finally settled on the Prada. The others would have to wait. There’d be plenty of time to play dress-up just as soon as she got set up in the bucket shop. Cher was ready for business – looking good, feeling good, and ready to bite into the Big Apple – right down to the core.

  It was good to walk the streets of New York City again. It always inspired Cher to feel the pace and the pressures of the pavement. But damn, the shops were distracting. With Jennifer’s Gucci purse slung over her shoulder, Cher could just hear those credit cards calling out to her: Use me – charge it – buy it – have it. What the hell, Cher thought, and she succumbed to temptation and strolled into Agnes B. for a new outfit of her own. One thing that hadn’t changed while Cher was gone was just how snotty the sales clerks could be at these fancy clothing stores. But now Cher was wearing Prada and that seemed to make all the difference in the world. She just started tossing stuff on the counter like she knew what she was doing. And little Isabelle the store clerk couldn’t ring it up fast enough.

  ‘You do deliver, don’t you?’ Cher asked, haughty as hell.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Isabelle assured her.

  Cher flipped out Jennifer’s American Express and tried to act casual as she waited for the reassuring ‘bleep’ of approval from the credit card terminal. It sounded, and Cher started breathing again. She gave the address for the delivery and was about to be on her way, when she heard a voice behind her exclaim, ‘Miss Spencer? Miss Spencer?’ Cher froze, then turned very slowly. An older woman had appeared from the back office and was staring at her intently.

  ‘Yes?’ Cher asked.

  ‘Is that you, Miss Spencer?’ the woman asked. ‘Have you done something different with your hair?’

  ‘Dyed it,’ Cher said quickly.

  The woman squinted slightly and tilted her head as she considered Cher’s answer. ‘I like it,’ she said finally. ‘It changes your whole look.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Cher said with a smile.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll let you go now,’ the woman said. ‘I just wanted to say hello and to welcome you back. I’m glad you didn’t forget us. We look forward to seeing you again soon, I hope?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Cher said as she turned and left the shop. Her heart was racing. She’d have to be more careful in the future. Tribeca was a small pond where Jennifer Spencer had been a very big-spending fish. From now on, Cher would do her shopping uptown.

  39

  Jennifer Spencer

  Opportunity makes the thief.

  English proverb

  ‘I can’t believe this shit,’ Jennifer snarled to anyone who might be listening in the rec room. She waved around the letter that she was holding in her hand. ‘I got this notice from my co-op board saying that I’m in violation of my contract with them because,’ and she started reading directly from the letter:

  In your absence, you have illegally subleased the unit to a third party which is in direct violation of building bylaws. When sublets are approved – which is done on a case by case basis – the lettor must be present.

  ‘I don’t know what in the hell they’re talking about,’ Jennifer said aloud. ‘I haven’t sublet my apartment. I don’t know what in the hell is going on, but I’m afraid Tom Branston has screwed me over once again!’

  ‘Rich girls’ problems,’ Movita said.

  Jennifer stalked over to the pay phone. She dialed Lenny’s number. He helped fix everything. What would she do without him? ‘Do you know what’s going on with my loft?’ she asked when Lenny picked up.

  ‘Not a clue. Are you behind in maintenance? I’ve been sending it on the first of the month.’

  ‘No. Nothing that simple. The co-op board is threatening to take me to court because of my illegal sublet. What sublet?’

  ‘It must be a mistake.’

  ‘I hope so. I don’t need to be convicted again for crimes I didn’t commit. What in the hell is happening out there, Lenny?’

  She waited for him to castigate her for ever giving Tom Branston power of attorney. As Jennifer’s accountant, Lenny had never been comfortable with the arrangement. As her … friend, she knew he resented Tom every moment of every day.

  ‘I’ll look into it, Jennifer
,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll talk to Tom and I’ll talk to the people on your building’s board. I’m sure that it’s just a misunderstanding, or a paperwork screwup, okay?’

  ‘But they say someone’s living there!’ Jennifer insisted.

  ‘It’s probably me they’re talking about.’ Lenny reminded her that during the secretive days of the holding company’s formation and the subsequent buyout of JRU he had occasionally used her loft as his headquarters for the clandestine operation. ‘Someone probably saw me coming and going and just thought I was living there, that’s all. I’ll straighten it all out. Stop worrying.’

  Jennifer wanted to stop worrying about her place, just like she wanted to stop worrying about her prison, but she couldn’t shake the fear that whatever was happening on the Outside was somehow a direct threat to what she was trying to achieve at Jennings.

  Those fears were realized when Lenny arrived at Jennings just two days later to report to Jennifer on what he had discovered. They sat together at a table in the visiting room and he started to explain.

  ‘Look, you’re sure Tom’s name isn’t on your co-op? He doesn’t own shares, does he?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ she told him.

  ‘Well, he’s living there. Or he’s using it, a lot.’

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘I followed him two nights ago. He didn’t see me,’ Lenny assured her. ‘I snuck over to the newsstand and watched him from behind a magazine.’ The mild-mannered accountant was almost panting with the intrigue of his adventure. Actually, Jennifer thought, he would have made a good John le Carré spy. ‘At first, I just figured that maybe Tom was using your loft,’ he said. ‘After all, you two were engaged and he obviously still has a key. But then I thought, “Why would Tom start living here now? He has his own place.”’

  ‘Lenny, please,’ Jennifer begged, ‘just tell me what you found.’

  Lenny was a little crestfallen that Jennifer did not find his tale of sleuthing as intriguing as he did, but he picked up the pace and continued. He told Jennifer how he had waited until he was certain Tom was gone, then he took his key and set off on his own expedition to uncover the truth. Before the elevator had even reached Jennifer’s floor, Lenny could hear the blare of music that emanated from the loft. ‘The thought of actually finding someone living there was pretty scary,’ he told Jennifer. ‘So I stayed in the elevator for some time, peering at your door through the wooden slats. And just when I mustered the courage to go in, the door to the apartment flew open and some woman came out with a bag of garbage!’

  ‘Who was it?’ Jennifer demanded to know.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lenny said, ‘but she was obviously living there.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Jennifer asked.

  Lenny took a deep breath, stared intently into Jennifer’s eyes, and continued. ‘I’m not sure you want to know,’ he said sadly. But Jennifer did want to know, and from what Lenny told her, it soon became clear that Tom Branston was using Jennifer’s loft to keep another woman.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Jennifer said. She didn’t want Lenny to think she still had feelings for Tom – she did, but they were all angry ones – but jealousy did flare up. She was holed up in this … this convent while he …

  ‘How does a guy like Tom Branston sleep at night?’ Lenny asked. ‘Do you know how lucky you are to be rid of that guy?’

  ‘Was she wearing my diamond?’ Jennifer asked him.

  Lenny stared at Jennifer for a moment. ‘After everything I just told you, is that all you can think about?’

  ‘Was she wearing my diamond or not, Lenny?’ Jennifer insisted.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lenny answered in exasperation. ‘I doubt it. I think she’s just a …’ Lenny hesitated.

  ‘A what?’ Jennifer wanted to know, but Lenny said nothing. Neither spoke for a moment, then Jennifer asked hesitantly, ‘Is she pretty?’

  Lenny couldn’t take it anymore. ‘She’s a whore, Jennifer!’ he almost shouted. ‘Whores are not pretty, and they don’t get diamond rings.’

  Jennifer couldn’t sleep that night. She didn’t want to disturb Suki, so she got up from her bunk and walked out into the dayroom. It had been one of her life’s sweetest victories when the battle was finally won that allowed the inmates to leave their cells at night and spend their sleepless hours in the rec room if they chose, playing cards or doing jigsaw puzzles. You could always find someone to talk with, no matter what hour of the night it was. Most people had troubles worse than hers. Jennifer was glad of that tonight when she walked in and saw Movita there.

  ‘You can’t sleep either?’ Movita asked when she saw her.

  Jennifer shook her head and sat down across from her at the table.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Movita wondered.

  Jennifer shrugged. How could she explain to Movita that she feared her eventual release from prison? How could she tell a woman who was serving a life sentence in prison that she was worried about a luxurious loft, her ex-engagement ring and her ex-fiancé. She didn’t want to tell Movita that that was the reason she couldn’t sleep, because she was ashamed. She was ashamed of the art, and the rugs, and the antiques. She was ashamed of the Biedermeier armoire filled with designer clothes. She was ashamed that her life had added up to nothing but a lot of stuff, and now that the stuff might be gone, she was ashamed that she might not know what to do without it. ‘I’m just not sleepy,’ Jennifer finally said in answer to Movita’s question.

  Movita nodded, as if to say that she too would rather not talk about the real causes of her insomnia. But Jen knew her daughters’ names, and that Mo’s pain was too deep to probe. So, after an hour or two of small talk and prison gossip, they were both tired and relaxed enough for sleep. Jennifer crept quietly back into her cell, careful not to wake the snoring Suki.

  To keep peace among the inmates who were complaining about Jennifer working in the library, the Warden had her start to divide her time between there and the laundry. So her work detail for today was in the sweat pit of the Jennings laundry. She staggered quickly across the laundry room floor under a bundle of sheets almost as big as she was, because if she didn’t get everything into the machines fast, Suki would be picking up laundry and Jennifer got sympathy pains in her own abdomen just thinking about it. Suki was nearly nine months pregnant, and Jennifer had nightmares worrying about the silly girl. Suki would bend over and pick up laundry as if it were perfectly okay to do.

  ‘Just sit down!’ Jennifer said to Suki now as Suki wandered dangerously near to the piles of whites. ‘Don’t you understand that it’s easier for me to do it than to watch you do it? Please! They’ve still got lousy health care here and if you’re premature it’ll be a terrible thing!’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Suki answered. ‘My sister was working on the day her first baby was born. And she was a telephone lineman.’

  ‘A lineman had a baby? Was she up a pole?’

  Suki shook her head, as if Jen were serious. ‘Uh-uh. But she had it in the truck. And fast.’

  ‘Really?’ Jennifer asked.

  Suki nodded, bent down, and picked up some towels.

  ‘Towels are too heavy! Leave those!’ Jennifer said, walking up to her and taking them out of her hands. ‘Sit.’

  ‘I can’t just sit,’ Suki said, looking down at her belly as she pulled the material of her jumpsuit tight across her abdomen to reveal her bulge. When she held her baggy suit against it you could see. It was stupendous.

  Jennifer increased her pace, sorting and carrying laundry faster than she ever thought she could. But then, a couple of minutes later, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Suki had, in fact, sat down.

  ‘Are you okay, Suki?’ she asked, turning to her. Suki didn’t answer at once, and it seemed to Jennifer that she had a strange look on her face. ‘Suki?’ she repeated. ‘Are you in pain? Are you having contractions?’

  ‘No,’ Suki answered. ‘I’m just getting … feelings.’

  �
�Feelings?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Suki was sweating, tiny beads coating her upper lip and nose.

  Jennifer stared down at her for a minute, made sure she was all right and then went back to work, but now she looked over at Suki every minute or so. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked again. ‘You don’t look so good.’

  ‘I think I might be sick,’ Suki said. ‘I feel a little sick.’

  Jennifer dropped the sheets she’d just folded on a table and went over to help Suki up. ‘C’mon, Suki,’ she said. ‘We better go to the infirmary. You can’t be too careful about these things.’

  ‘No, actually I feel much better now,’ Suki said. ‘I think it was just gas.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not getting contractions?’ Jennifer asked her.

  Suki seemed to think about it. ‘No,’ she said, ‘this is not what I read about in the book. And it’s over already.’ She looked up at Jennifer and shrugged. ‘False alarm,’ she said.

  Jennifer looked at her. She couldn’t very well force the girl to go to the infirmary, so she just went back to work, sorting, hefting laundry in and out of the machines, folding, and all the while watching Suki. An hour later, work duty was over and it was nearly time for dinner. Suki slowly walked back to the cells with Jennifer. She would stop every now and then to remark on something. Jen thought it was to rest as well, but Suki said she felt absolutely fine. Jennifer guessed that it had been false labor. The fact that Suki ate very little dinner didn’t mean anything either. Suki hadn’t had a consistent appetite since early on in her pregnancy.