by J. J. McAvoy
“I’m sure you could have phrased that nicer.”
“I could have. But I don’t want you to feel good while you’re locked up like an animal. I want to see if you’re willing to do anything to get out of this hellhole and get justice. Because, Ivy, I can make you one of the most powerful women in this country. Anyone who hurt you both in the past and present will beg for mercy. You will want for nothing ever again. You father will rest assured, knowing the people who killed him and destroyed his family have been so thoroughly punished, it becomes a cautionary tale. But I can only do that if you’re sure.”
“I am. I’m sure. What do I have to do?” I said for the third time.
“Give up your last name.”
It was then that I was sure the devil was an old woman with a spectacular taste in fashion.
“I know that look.” She smirked. “But no, sweetheart, I’m not the worst. I’m just the old woman who’s been tasked to prepare you for the worst. So get scared now, let it out of your system, throw up if you need to, and when you’re done, we’ll get started.”
I swallowed the pocket of saliva in my mouth, sitting up now. “I’m fine.”
“Brilliant.” She opened her purse, taking out her phone to press only one button before looking back up at me. “Things are going to start happening very quickly. Is there anything you need?”
“I need?” I asked her.
She nodded. “Other than the obvious shower, shampoo, condition, wax, and…a lot. I can have them set you up in a private room. At least then you can shower and get rid of those horrid raccoon eyes. Food? Is there anything you want?”
“Food?”
“Please stop repeating everything I say.” She frowned and then shook her head. “Fine. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll let your brain catch up before I ask any more questions. Just make sure to eat and sleep…this you is over.”
She stood up and when she reached the doors, Jimmy ran back over to her like a fox with its tail between his legs.
“Ivy.” Her tone changed…eerily so and much politer. “This is Mr. Keely. Mr. Keely, this is Ivy. I’m re-introducing you to her because whoever she was to you before no longer compares to who she is now. If she stubs her big toe, I’ll blame you. If she’s uncomfortable in any way, I’ll blame you. If anyone knows I came here, I’ll blame you. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded at her.
“Brilliant. Please don’t forget, my grandson handles reminders very messily. I wouldn’t even want to imagine how angry he’d be if something happened to his fiancée.”
“His what?” Jimmy and I both said.
She didn’t reply to him and just patted my head gently. “Remember, eat, sleep…and maybe brush your hair, dear.”
Just like that she walked out, her heels clicking as she went.
“What the hell just happened?” I whispered.
“How the fuck should—” He paused, eyes wide when he looked back at me. “Ugh…I’ll arrange your room…ma…Ms. O’Davoren. How about you go eat? We can have something brought to you.”
No fucking way. If he didn’t look like he was in so much physical pain just getting the words out, I’d think I was dreaming. He didn’t bother asking anything else. Instead, he undid the zip ties around my wrists before reaching down and undoing the chains around my feet. Rubbing my sore wrists, I couldn’t stop staring at him, wondering what alien had hijacked his body. He didn’t even lift me up out of my chair.
“What day is it?” I asked.
“Tuesday.”
I smiled. “It’s spaghetti and meatballs at the caf today.”
“Suit yourself,” he muttered before speaking into his mic next. “Door.”
The door slid open in front of us.
I walked out first and immediately put my hands to my sides. When I stepped into the hall, I was convinced…this was the twilight zone. Three men had to carry me, handcuffed and chained, into that room not even an hour ago. I could see them, Mr. Muscle Head, Mr. Hot Breath, and the creeper with blue eyes, on the other side of the glass windows. They all looked at me as if I were the strange one. I hadn’t changed. I was still Ivy. They were the ones acting weird. They stared at me until I made eye contact, then pretended to be busy with something.
“Door,” Jimmy said again once we came to the end of the hall.
I didn’t realize we were in some other section of the prison until the door opened and I saw the control room.
“Walk quickly,” he said but didn’t rush me.
Nodding, I walked through fast, keeping my head down until I got to the metal stairs, which spiraled down until I got to the bottom.
“Door. General. One in,” Jimmy said and the door opened, and finally I knew where I was…the cafeteria.
He, thankfully, didn’t follow me in. And it was normal here, no one staring, so I quietly grabbed a tray and walked toward the line. I’d just placed the milk onto my tray when a pair of short, stubby hands reached out and took it.
“If it ain’t Psycho Ivy, everybody!”
Aww, come on! I didn’t have the energy for a fight today!
“Who’d you have to blow to get out of solitary—”
Before she could finish her sentence, someone grabbed her wrist, and we both looked up at this…middle-aged woman with olive skin and wavy black hair.
“Who the fuck are—”
The woman squeezed tighter, and I glanced around for the guards, but they were looking away…
“Non ho male a nessuno dal 1984...ma posso,” she said to her, and I would have guessed it was Spanish but judging from the confused look on her face I would’ve been wrong.
“Translation.” Another woman stepped up behind her. “Sit down, shut up before you get hurt, dwarf.”
“It will take more than you two Italian hags to—” Dallas froze when she noticed that the two women who were her backup…didn’t back her up. Instead, they ate their food in the corner. “Hey.”
“Two? Count again,” the first woman said to her, the grip on her wrist unmoving.
I wasn’t sure when it happened or how it was happening, but the whole cafeteria was silent, which would be terrifying enough, if it weren’t for the scowls…the clear warning that came across at least a dozen of the women, from what I could count at least. The warning was a simple one: do you have a death wish?
Stunned, I looked at the only person reacting normally near me: Dallas, who looked ready to piss herself. Which must have been enough for the women because they let her arm go.
“Apologize,” the second woman said.
“Sorry,” Dallas said to me.
“And her milk?” the wavy-haired one demanded.
“Right,” Dallas muttered, putting the milk back on my tray. When they didn’t say anything more, she walked as fast as she could back to her table. She wasn’t the only one. The Italian women did the same without a word to me either.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t really know what to do.
And apparently, I didn’t have to do anything either. Because no one walked in front of me. Instead, some other people put their dessert on my tray, causing me to move again, but on autopilot, not even blinking when the woman behind the counter gave me much more food than she normally does. Lifting the tray, I turned around to look for somewhere to sit when this voice entered my mind…
You can sit anywhere, Ivy.
Testing my theory, I walked to the fullest table I could find and just stood there. Not even a second later, they got up, not one or two, but all of them…every last one of them got up.
Sitting down, I took the straw and stuck it into my milk before looking back up. Just like the guards, they stared and avoided my gaze.
And as I drank, watching them as they watched me, something clicked.
Ah…so this is power, I thought.
Power. Influence. People feared and respected stuff like that. I knew that…
I’d just…never experienced it…
No. That w
as a lie. I had experienced it every time they’d thrown me into that dark cell, every time they’d patted me down, or when I’d lost a fight, or when the judge had thrown me in here, or when the shitty lawyer they’d given me had thrown me to the wolves, and when my dad had lost his life.
I’d experienced power and influence.
I’d just never had any myself.
Now I did.
So I took comfort in their fear. Because it meant one thing…the Callahans really were as powerful as everyone used to say. I could keep my promise.
They’ll pay. I swear it, Daddy.
FIVE
“She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.”
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
IVY
“Ms. O’Davoren.”
“Ms. O’Davoren?”
“Ma’am?”
“Huh?” I lowered my gaze from the sky above me and focused on the lawyer, Avery Barrow he said his name was, standing in front of the black Mercedes in his suit.
“I understand. It’s just the sky…but after years of seeing it through windows or wires it doesn’t seem like just the sky anymore?”
I didn’t reply, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my old hoodie they’d returned to me. He took a step to the side for me, and the driver of the car opened the door for me to enter. Glancing back at the fences behind me once more before closing my eyes, I counted to five and opened them again…
This isn’t a dream.
“Whenever you’re ready—”
“I’m ready,” I said softly, sliding into the backseat of the car, expecting him to follow, but the door closed once I entered.
Instead, he walked around to the passenger seat while the blond-haired driver got behind the wheel.
“Is there anything you wish to listen to?” he asked, and I looked at the lawyer, who texted on his phone.
“He’s talking to you, Ms. O’Davoren.”
I glanced back at the driver, who met my glaze in the mirror briefly, waiting. Shaking my head no, I watched as the prison building shrank in the background…the fences stretched out. It wasn’t until we got to the four-way stop did it finally come to the end, and I felt really…
“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer spoke into the phone. “Thank y—”
He stopped abruptly, obviously hung up on, and scrolled through his phone again.
“Was it Mrs. Callahan?” I asked.
“No. Ms. Callahan,” he replied. “Mrs. Callahan won’t call until you’re ready.”
Frowning, I shifted. “Are you trying to be vague on purpose?”
“No. Is there something you’d like me to clarify, ma’am?”
“Seriously? You’ve got like thirty years on me. Just call me Ivy. Enough of this Ms. O’Davoren or ma’am—”
“You still haven’t gotten it,” he stated, never once looking up. “You are no longer just Ivy.”
“No, I get it, the Callahan family is rich and powerful and you don’t want to upset them. But I’m not—”
“Not wanting to upset them?” He finally put his phone down and looked back at me. He looked like he was thinking it over for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. Offending them is dangerous. However, that isn’t why either I or Thomas here address you as we do. It isn’t why you were suddenly protected in there…that wasn’t fear, it was respect.”
“Respect?” My lips turned up out of a mixture of amusement and shock.
He nodded seriously. “Seven years…that’s how long you’ve been in prison. Whatever the reason, being so young, that is a tragedy…I’m sure just one of many in your life. And while you may feel like you have the worst, you do not. There are many people just like you. People cheated, victimized, abused, forgotten, the list goes on. Why? Because the world isn’t black or white. Sometimes you need to do bad to do good and worse to do even better. The Callahans made themselves the worst. The money, the fame, the power, was built on blood and bones. Why? Because no one else could do it. And in doing so, a kid who grew up living in Chicago’s most ghetto neighborhood, with an abusive father and junkie for a mother, came out of prison, with a full ride to college, where he became a lawyer. In doing so, helped other kids, kids no one even looked twice at, get reduced sentences, off death row, a second chance at life. So when I say you are not just Ivy, I’m saying you are now part of a family, that yes, has hurt many people, most deserving, some debatable, and surely helping many more. Anything you’d like to add, Thomas?”
The driver just shrugged. “They ain’t sent me to any college or anything. And I’ve heard things…but…” He met my eyes in the rear-view mirror again. “After what they did for my kids, I’d die if they needed me to.”
“Sounds like a cult. They take care of you and your family so you’d give up your life,” I muttered to myself, feeling ganged up on. The Callahans…I’d heard things too.
“By that definition, any government aid in America is also a cult.”
I sulked at him. “You’re definitely a lawyer, all right.”
They both smiled at my obvious loss and said nothing more. I closed my eyes for what I thought was only a second. The car came to a stop, and Mr. Barrow was calling me again.
“Ms. O’Davoren.”
I scowled, opening one eye.
“We’re here.” He nodded to his left.
Looking out the window, I saw the glass doors of a very fancy looking hotel. Sitting up, he stepped out of the passenger side, Thomas already standing outside. He didn’t open the door until Mr. Barrow made it to my side. Stepping out, the first thing I felt was the harsh wind, like ice pricking through me. Wrapping my arms around myself, I just watched as the valet took the keys of the Bentley in front of us and parked it near three Lamborghinis.
“Follow me. Don’t make eye contact with anyone,” Mr. Barrow stated, walking up the red carpet, and I did as he directed, but once we stepped into the warmth of the cream and gold marble lobby with a massive chandelier hanging above us, I couldn’t help but whisper.
“What are we doing here?”
He didn’t answer…so much for answering my questions.
I felt like a rat that had entered a five-star kitchen. People, not just any people, people who wore diamonds the size of doorknobs around their figures, stared at me confused as we walked toward the elevators. Mr. Barrow said nothing. He didn’t even look fazed as we waited for the elevator.
“Good morning.” A bellboy dressed in black and gold scared the shit out of me when the doors opened.
“What floor?” he asked, looking at Mr. Barrow when we entered, pretending not to notice me.
“Penthouse,” he replied, handing him a black card, which the bellboy used to swipe the reader before pushing the button.
“Thank you, sir.” The bellboy handed the card to him.
Mr. Barrow didn’t reply.
The ride was silent and fast. We went from the lobby all the way to the top in less than a few seconds, and when the doors opened, we came face-to-face with two men dressed in black suits, standing in front of the suite.
Mr. Barrow stepped out first and then moved for me to get off.
“Uh…enjoy your stay. Thank you for choosing the Troposphere Hotel,” the bellboy stammered, confused, but closed the door behind me once I was out.
The guards, both of whom were Asian, nodded at me before opening the double doors of the suite.
“This all screams shady—holy shit.” I gasped at the room—no, palace—which had the most stunning view of the city. Everything was gold. The chairs, the desk, even the lamp stands.
“Holy shit.” I turned as an Asian woman in a fitted burgundy skirt, diamond studded belt, and blue print blouse stepped inside from the patio. Her black hair was pulled back into an updo. There was not one blemish on her skin, like she was photoshopped in real life.
“Not the worst reaction my hotel has ever gotten.”
“Your hotel?” I repeated.
“Thank you, Avery. I’ll take it f
rom here,” she said to him.
“No problem, Ms. Callahan.” He nodded at her and then at me. “Ms. O’Davoren, it was a pleasure.”
Just like that, before I could say anything, he walked out of the suite and I was trying to catch up. When I remembered what he’d said in the car.
“Ms. Callahan?” My head whipped back at her.
“Do I not look like a Callahan?” she asked, taking a seat in the throne-like chair, crossing her legs elegantly.
“No…I mean, not that...ugh. I’m sorry, do you mind letting me know what I’m doing here? I thought I was going to see Mrs. Callahan…well, the older Mrs. Callahan. Or…how many Ms. Or Mrs. Callahan’s are there?”
“We’ll get there. As for my grandmother.” She tilted her head to the side. “Do you really think you’re suited to meet her?”
The tone in her voice was sharp…and familiar.
Standing up straighter, I didn’t back down. “Yes. I’ve already met her—”
“Incorrect. Grandmother chose to see you because she is nice like that and overlooked your obvious flaws.”
Kind is hardly the word I’d use. “I’m sorry, what? Flaws? Just because I’m not all dolled up doesn’t mean—”
“Incorrect again,” she cut me off for the second time, glaring back. “How you present yourself now means everything…for you it is the only thing that matters. When my grandmother met you, you were no one. Now you are on your way to being someone. That means before she sees you again, you need to look the part and not like a starved teenager from 1985. Even I couldn’t bring myself to walk you here.”
“I’m sorry prison doesn’t come with a Bloomingdale’s card!”
“You’re forgiven, that’s why you were sent to me first.” She smiled even as I glared at her. “Now, would you sit so we can get started?”
“I’ll stand.”
“I wasn’t asking, Ivy.”
“Is everything all right, ma’am?” A maid, dressed in some of those ridiculous French outfits, came out of the bedroom.