“Oh, you don’t have to make it up to me, Mom. I’m totally fine. Brody took me in for Christmas break, and he’s been a huge support ever since.”
Then, my sweet girl shoots me a panicked look because we don’t want to reveal our relationship to Jeannie just yet. The woman just got out of prison, and deserves some time to acclimatize herself before we drop that bomb.
But Jeannie merely nods and smiles.
“Good, good. I’m glad you guys were there for each other because I’ve realized that friends can make a huge difference in life. I made some friends while I was on the inside as well,” she says in a meaningful tone. “You have to, to stay alive at a place like Lockwood.”
Oh shit, where are we going with this?
“You mean, gangs?” asks Cleo hesitantly. “Because it’s dangerous on the inside, right?”
Jeannie nods.
“Yeah, definitely. A women’s prison is no walk in the park, honey. You got to protect yourself, but I learned how. I made some friends, I worked out, I got a couple new tattoos, and I used my secret weapon.”
We both stare at her.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a careful tone. “Like being friendly with some of the guards? Trading credits for food?”
Jeannie lets out a bark of genuinely amused laughter.
“No, this,” she says, searching around in her pocket for something before pulling out a small vial of grayish liquid.
Cleo immediately pulls away, gasping.
“What is that?” she demands. “Heroin? Fentanyl? What?”
Jeannie rolls her eyes.
“No, nothing like that, but thereisa black-market trade in the women’s prison—”
“OMG, Mom,” Cleo gasps. “Please tell me that you’re not some kind of prison drug lord now—”
Jeannie waves her hand while chuckling.
“Oh, relax. Don’t go getting your panties in a twist!” she admonishes. “No, this isn’t like that. I mean, it’s a drug, but nothing crazy or anything.”
This time, I step in.
“Okay, so what is it? MDMA? Ecstasy? Adderall?”
Jeannie snorts.
“You two are so fucking suspicious, you know that? No, it’s just laxatives, you know the stuff that makes you take a shit. It’s great for spontaneous bowel movements.”
We stare at one another before looking back at the middle-aged woman.
“This was your secret weapon?” Cleo asks in a slow voice.
Jeannie nods happily, her ponytail bobbing.
“Hell yeah! It’s all homemade too, using just a bit of sweet potato skin, some fiber supplements, and my secret ingredient,” she winks. “I’d cook it up in my cell, and trust me, this stuff is the serious ju-ju.”
Cleo and I are still staring at the middle-aged woman.
“But how did you use it?”
Jeannie shrugs.