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  “No, thanks. My ride is here.” Monette pointed to an approaching bus two blocks away. It belched black smoke as it rolled along.

  Jayson glanced into his rearview mirror, then nodded with a smile. “Okay. See you later.”

  “Yeah, right,” Monette muttered as she gave him a chilly smile and waved goodbye.

  Monette was not interested in Mr. Nice Guy, superfine or not. Candi was right about one thing—he wasn’t her type. Jayson probably wanted a taste of bad girl on the sly. But maybe she was being too cynical. She thought of that cute lopsided smile and those dark, captivating eyes.

  The spring breeze seemed to blow the scent of his cologne back to her. Before she could drift into a romantic fantasy, the smell of exhaust fumes from the lumbering bus brought Monette back to reality.

  Chapter 3

  Two days later Monette sat in the backyard of the halfway house. The women had a more relaxed schedule on Saturdays. Half of them were gone on family visits. A few would be entertaining company later in the afternoon. Monette tried not to think about her lack of visitors or phone calls from family. She had the local community college catalog open on the round patio table. A huge umbrella with green and white stripes shaded her from the bright, late-spring sunshine. Still, Monette wore her sunglasses. Tyeisha and Candi perched on a square picnic table with their legs hanging down like two little girls, except for the cigarettes they puffed on. Monette had made them sit downwind from her. Tyeisha ground out her cigarette after a few minutes and joined Monette.

  “Whatcha gonna study?” Tyeisha squinted at the pages.

  “Not sure. Since I have to write another book, maybe some English classes.” Monette turned the pages.

  “You gotta write another book? Man, I don’t know how you came up with all them words for the first one. But two? I couldn’t do it” Tyeisha shook her head. “School ain’t never been my thing anyway.”

  Monette looked up from the catalog. “You like to write. School is nothing but reading and writing with a few numbers thrown in. You could do it”

  “Nah, I don’t like some teacher standing over me. Never did. Besides, I don’t write anything longer than a poem, a short essay or maybe a short story. A book is way too long.” Tyeisha frowned at the thought of such effort.

  “You take it one page at a time. Write down what you know and what you feel. As for school, college is different. You choose the subjects and set your own schedule.” Monette could have preached the value of an education, but she was sure Tyeisha had heard it before. She went back to looking over the course offerings for the short summer session. “But it’s up to you.”

  “Won’t cost me nothin’ to look at what they offer, huh?” Tyeisha’s eyes blinked in concentration as though even that step was a weighty decision.

  Monette suppressed a smile at the thought that Tyeisha was now considering more education. Tyeisha reminded Monette of herself and many of the women she’d met in prison. Their self-esteem was so fragile.

  “You can see this when I’m through,” Monette said in a casual tone.

  “Yeah, sure.” Tyeisha craned her neck and read across Monette’s shoulder.

  The screen door slammed and Monette looked up. Yarva and Lenore came down the back steps. Yarva wore sunglasses, and a cigarette hung from her mouth. She exuded a lot of street attitude as she approached.

  “So she’s a college girl, too. My, my.” Yarva strolled by Monette. She sat with Tyeisha and Candi at the picnic table.

  “Monette got too much brains to do what everybody else does,” Candi replied.

  Yarva sat on the end of the table. “Guess we can’t all have it so sweet.”

  Monette exhaled. She might as well deal with Yarva again. She turned in her chair and looked at her. “You could go to school, too.”

  “Yeah, right. Spend time around a lot of uppity folks lookin’ down their noses at me. I’m keepin’ it real.” Yarva looked at Tyeisha as though her words were meant for her alone.

  ‘They might not even let me in that school. Don’t they ask you about having been in prison on those college applications?” Tyeisha bit her bottom lip like a kid worried about the principal.

  “Yes, but schools want to help people make a new start in life.” Monette gave Tyeisha a crooked smile of encouragement. “If they let me take courses, they’ll let anybody in.”

  “Hell, since you put it like that, I might even crack a book. Got to get my high school certificate first, though.” Candi let out a gruff laugh as she climbed down off the table. She walked over to stand behind Monette and look over her shoulder.

  Lenore had been watering a small plot of flowers along the wooden fence. She put down the garden hose and crossed the grass. “Maybe I could take some business classes. You know, for when I start my own beauty shop.”

  “Good idea. Most small-business people need to learn bookkeeping and stuff like that. Baton Rouge Community College has a little something for everybody.” Monette pushed the catalog away from her so they all could see it better.

  Yarva puffed in silence for a long while as the other women gathered at the patio table, chattering away. She finally crushed the smoldering butt in the large metal ashtray on the picnic table. “Y’all just lettin’ her put a lot of crap in your heads.”

  “Don’t hate, appreciate,” Candi retorted without looking at her.

  “Okay. Let me ask a few questions. How you gonna pay for school? They ain’t lettin’ you in free I don’t care how tenderhearted they are.” Yarva wore a look of satisfaction when the women stopped talking.

  “There are grants and student loans,” Monette replied. She recognized the bitter expression Yarva wore. She’d met a lot of people like her over the years. More than a few had succeeded in convincing Monette her dreams were silly. Her mother and older sisters had been the first.

  “They’re gonna give that money to sweet little innocent kids outta high school who don’t have arrest records. Dope-usin’ ex-cons are at the bottom of the list, ladies.” Yarva’s husky laugh dripped scorn.

  “Yeah, they ask about convictions on those applications, too.” Tyeisha slumped back in her chair.

  “That’s what I’m sayin’ Yarva pressed on now that she had their attention. “ ’Scuse me, Monette. You got money comin’ in from a big-time book deal. People beatin’ on the door to pay you speaking fees. Not us.”

  Lenore pushed a thick section of her black hair behind one ear. “I probably won’t get the money to start a business anyway.”

  “Banks don’t just beg people to come in so they can give out loans either,” Yarva said.

  ‘There are plenty of options. There are even foundations that encourage women who have had troubles like us to apply,” Monette said with fervor. Yarva’s bad vibe had killed the air of optimism that had barely taken root “At least I’m making some money at the discount store,” Tyeisha said. She jammed her hands in the pockets of the denim coveralls she wore and headed for the house. Lenore followed her without looking back.

  Candi watched them leave before she turned to Yarva. “You had to do that, huh?”

  “What?” Yarva went back to the picnic table and sat down again. She lit up her third cigarette.

  “You know what? Damn. I thought you had more goin’ on with you.” Candi waved a hand at her.

  Yarva scowled at her. “All I did was tell the truth. No use lettin’ ’em make plans based on stuff they can’t do. You said the same thing a while back when all this came up in one of our group sessions. Sherrial was talkin’ the same pie-in-the-sky nonsense.”

  “Maybe I did. Sometimes group counseling turns into a pity party. Sherrial is just trying to help.” Candi looked at Yarva. “You might consider saying something positive once in a while.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Yarva tilted her head back and exhaled a stream of blue cigarette smoke.

  One of the other residents came to the back door. “Hey, Monette. Telephone.”

  Monette gathered up her catalog,
notebook and planner. “Okay, Denise.”

  “She’s carryin’ around more stuff than Donald Trump,” Yarva said, then let out a snort of derision.

  “I have a few things going on. Anything else you want to say?” Monette faced her with a hand on one hip.

  “Sorry, Ms. Victor. I didn’t mean to mess with the star of the women’s prison system,” Yarva said.

  Denise twisted her mouth and frowned with impatience. She opened the door wider. “Look, I’m missing my favorite soap. You want me to tell ’em you gonna call ’em back?”

  “I’m coming.” Monette glanced at Yarva one last time before she turned away. She heard Candi’s angry voice as she climbed the stairs.

  “Get off her case, Yarva. She’s been through just as much as anybody.”

  The angry slap of the screen door as Denise let it go drowned out Yarva’s response. Monette did not bother to look back. Denise ran back toward the living room. When Monette passed on her way to the hall phone, Denise was sitting down. Moments later, she heard Denise curse in frustration because a commercial was on.

  “I don’t need to know about car insurance. I ain’t even got a car,” Denise yelled. The pretty blonde on the television screen kept right on smiling, which made Denise call her a dirty name.

  Trudy came out of her office. She smiled at Monette and was about to speak when Denise cursed again. She went into the living room. “Clean up your language, Denise. And shouldn’t you be helping in the kitchen?”

  “Nope. Ain’t my turn. I wasn’t cussin’. You know I turned over my life to the Lord,” Denise replied.

  “Well, give him your mouth next Sunday when you go to church. I know your voice when I hear it,” Trudy replied. She walked out into the hallway again and winked at Monette. The twinkle in her blues eyes contradicted the stern tone.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Monette laughed as she picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Nette. How you doin’?”

  The female voice startled Monette. Some time must have passed, because the voice asked if anyone was there. “Uh, yeah. Mama?”

  “Girl, you sayin’ I sound sixty-three years old? I’m your baby sister by ten years, remember. You done forgot your own people.” Rita gave a rough laugh that sounded like she could spit out gravel.

  “Oh. Hey, Rita.” Monette didn’t know if she felt disappointed or relieved that once more her mother hadn’t reached out. “You need to quit puffing up two packs of Marlboros a day, ’cause you sound seventy.”

  “I’m glad to hear from you, too.” Rita laughed again. “Same smart-mouth, I see. Guess they didn’t rehabilitate that out of you.”

  “So how you been?” Monette sat down, since Rita seemed in the mood to talk on her own dime.

  “Fair. Hey, somebody told me you was on TV the other day.” Rita coughed, cleared her throat, and then continued. “That’s real good for you.”

  “Thanks.” Monette knew Rita and her other three sisters did not get up early in the morning. They preferred late hours and sleeping in, a lifestyle Monette had once shared. “How are your kids?”

  “Dayna is pregnant again. Can’t tell her nothin’, ya know? The others okay. My baby, Keon, is a high school football star. He’s probably gonna graduate and even get a scholarship to college. He better. That’s the only way he’s gone pay for it. You know none of us got any money.” Rita paused.

  “That’s great. Looks like it was just yesterday he was crawling around on the floor in a dirty diaper.” Monette hoped he would break the family cycle and make it out of the ’hood for a reason other than going to jail.

  “Tall like his daddy, who ain’t paid child support in years.” Rita went back to the theme of money.

  Monette suppressed a sigh. The conversation was taking a familiar turn. “I left a message for Mama. I hope she’s not sick or anything.”

  “Nah, she’s okay. I mean for her. I keep trying to get her to slow down on those beers. Hump. You know how she is.”

  Monette could have added that it might help if Rita gave up drinking, too. Instead she opted to steer in a safe, neutral direction. “She has her own mind. How is Aunt Lorraine and the rest of ’em?”

  “She’s living with KayKay now. Got too sick to live on her own.”

  Rita went back to dropping hints about too little money and too much trouble for the Victor family. Still, Monette was glad to hear that her mother wasn’t ill and the rest of the family was okay. Despite Rita’s litany of woe, Monette knew that nothing had changed. She waited for Rita to wind down to the real point of the phone call.

  “And rent is so high. My landlord oughta be shamed to charge us for living in this shack. He should pay me.” Rita smacked her lips to make her point.

  ‘Try living rent free where I just came from,” Monette deadpanned.

  “Girl, you still crazy.” Rita let out another gruff laugh full of artificial mirth.

  Monette glanced up to find Trudy gazing at her. The director went back to her office. “Listen, I have to go. We can’t stay on this phone too long. I appreciate you calling to check on me. I’m doing fine. Tell everybody I said hello.”

  “Yeah. I will. Look here, Mama got these expensive pills she got to take and my rent is behind. Dayna ain’t half taking care of the two kids she got so I’m takin’ up the slack. If you let me hold fifty dollars until the first of the month it would help.” Rita spoke in a rush to get her plea out quickly.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Monette drew a circle in the dust on the shelf before her.

  “Send it by next Tuesday. If you mail it today I should get it by then.”

  “I can’t make a promise. Like I said. I’ll try.” Monette ground her back teeth until her jaw hurt. She would send the fifty dollars. They both knew it.

  “Right, right. So, you doing okay.” Rita made it a statement because she really had no question about Monette’s welfare.

  Monette wanted to reveal her well-hidden anxiety about being in the spotlight. She wanted to tell someone of her hope to use those fifteen minutes of fame to help others. But she knew Rita would only listen to calculate how much money to ask for next time.

  “I’m fine. Maybe you can get Mama to call me next time.”

  “Sure, Nette. I’ll go over there later today. She’ll be happy to hear you’re doing so good.” Rita sputtered at her own humor.

  “Bye, Rita. Thanks again for calling me.” Monette hung up fast before Rita gave her any more reasons to feel depressed. The phone rang back immediately. With a groan she picked up the receiver.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nette? It’s me again. You hung up so fast. What? You got a plane to catch or something?” Rita chuckled deep in her throat

  “What is it?” Monette did not get the joke one damn bit.

  “I’m just kidding around with ya, girl. Look, I just wanted to say we’re glad you got out of that place. Me especially. For real.”

  The rough edges of Rita’s voice softened. She sounded more like the baby sister Monette remembered. The little girl Monette would surprise with a treat of peppermint candy to take her mind off their mother’s drinking and sleazy boyfriends. Monette’s throat tightened, and a tear slipped by before she could catch it. When Trudy’s sensible loafers announced she was coming Monette wiped her cheek until it was dry. Trudy glanced at her and pointed to the wall clock to remind Monette of the time limit on phone calls. Then the director kept walking to police another resident, no doubt ‘Talk to you later,” Monette said, meaning it this time. Candi came down the hall. She gazed at Monette for a few seconds. “You all right?”

  “Sure. That was my little sister, Rita. She says Mama is doing okay. The rest of the family is about the same. Doing what they usually do.” Monette sniffed, cleared her throat and stood.

  “So you don’t need to worry about ’em,” Candi said firmly.

  “Probably not,” Monette said. She shoved both hands in the pockets of her blue jeans.

  Can
di looped an arm through hers. “C’mon, girl. Let’s take a walk. The sunshine will make us both feel better.”

  Monette allowed Candi to pull her along. Candi kept up a stream of chatter, a mixture of house gossip and funny stories. As Candi talked, it was clear she didn’t expect Monette to contribute. Monette nodded and walked; her mind still on the phone call. Even after so many years, Monette still missed having the kind of family she’d always wanted. With Candi working so hard to cheer her up, Monette put forth her best effort to cooperate.

  ***

  Monday morning Monette sat in the radio station booth, trying to relax. She tried not to feel self-conscious. Her producer, Irvin, gave Monette a thumbs-up signal through the glass window that separated them. He got a string of commercial announcements going with the ease of a pro. Monette groaned at how inept she must look and sound on her first day. Irvin had helped her out a couple of times by cutting off callers who’d gone on too long. Watching Irvin made her think of her oldest child. Karl was only a year older than Irvin. Monette had been thirteen when she’d gotten pregnant the first time. She’d been fourteen when she’d given birth. For the first few years she’d tried to be a good mother, not that she’d had any role models. Then the teen years had taken hold and she’d gone crazy. Watching Irvin, young and successful, Monette wondered how far Karl might have gone if she’d done better as a parent. When Irvin grinned at her, Monette smiled back and pushed away the guilt. Karl had forgiven her, and she had to forgive herself as well.

  Jim leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. “This isn’t as bad as I thought. At least you’re here to help me out.”

  Irvin came through the door that separated them. “You did fine. Better than most hosts on their first day. Good show.”

  “Thanks.” Monette didn’t believe either of them.

  In her mind Monette had stumbled through the first few minutes of her debut. Not a good sign for how her radio career might go. Still, Jim seemed relaxed, and she had Irvin on hand for support Nikki waved through the window set in the door leading to the hallway. She opened the door and only stuck her head in.