Page 27 of Things We Do in the Dark
“I don’t have to go to Vancouver, you know,” she said to him. “I can stay.”
“No, I want you to go.” Jimmy spoke decisively as he put the bag in the trunk. “I know you’ve been looking forward to getting out of here for a few days. Don’t worry, I got stuff to keep me busy. I got that charity thing on Saturday night, and I’m going to try out some of the new jokes.”
“Jimmy,” she said, “I don’t feel right leaving you alone.”
He lifted her chin and looked right into her eyes. “I’ll be here when you get back. I promise. I love you. Drive safe, okay?”
They looked at each other a while longer. Jimmy wasn’t handsome, not exactly. He looked his age, his face full of the lines and creases that told the stories of his life. But it never mattered. She was attracted to his kindness, and his acceptance. Unlike every other man Paris had known, Jimmy Peralta had never asked her for anything.
Except, of course, to sign that airtight, nonnegotiable prenup. Whatever the police are thinking she did, at least they can’t say she did it for the money.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dinner in the holding cell is a sandwich and an apple. The small Honeycrisp is fine. The sandwich is two slices of white Wonder Bread, a slice of ham, a Kraft single, and a swipe of mustard.
Paris examines it. No mold, no strange spots; it’s safe to eat. If she learned one thing growing up, it was to never, ever take food for granted. As a kid, a sandwich like this would have been a treat. She takes a bite. It tastes like her childhood.
Her new cellmates, however, are less than thrilled with their meal.
“What is this?” one of them says, poking through the brown paper bag. “I wouldn’t feed this shit to my dog.”
“Disgusting,” the other one agrees. “I can’t eat this.”
Oh, the privilege of being a picky eater. Jimmy liked aged tenderloin, hand-picked truffles, and sushi so fresh the hook was still in it. Paris, on the other hand, was considerably less discerning. Cheddar in the fridge too long? Scrape off the green bits. Bread’s gone stale? Toast it. If you were hungry as a child, you never really get over it. The idea of wasting food makes Paris feel physically ill.
There was a shift change before dinner, and the officer now in charge is an older man with heavy footsteps and a wheeze. The keys jangling on his belt serve as warning bells for his imminent appearance at the bars, and all three women look up when they hear him approaching.
“My lawyer here?” one of her cellmates calls out. “Because I need to get the fuck home. I got kids.”
“It’s her lawyer.” The officer points to Paris. “And you shoulda thought about your kids before you assaulted your neighbor.”
“Allegedly.”
“Peralta,” he says, “you getting up or what?”
Paris moves toward the bars as her cellmates talk in low voices about her. They were brought in separately for unrelated reasons, but the two women recognized each other right away. It turns out they move in similar social circles, and they both dated a guy named Dexter, who they agree is a loser. But now they’re tittering about Paris, and their continuous snark mixed with cackles of laughter makes her think of the two hecklers, Statler and Waldorf, fromThe Muppet Show.
“… killed her husband…”
“… gold-digging ho, but I respect that…”
“… I do like those slippers, though…”
“… Netflix show is funny as shit…”
“… not Netflix, it’s on Quan…”
Elsie finally appears, looking worn. The bright skirt and blouse have been replaced by leggings and a tunic top, and she looks like she’s had a longer day than Paris has. She passes a white paper bag through the bars.
“I brought you a late supper. I can’t stay long.”
“They fed us already.” Paris peers into the bag. Another sandwich, pulled pork on a freshly baked baguette from Fénix, the Cuban place in Elsie’s neighborhood. “But this is much better. Thank you.”
“That smells good,” one of the Muppets says loudly. “Where’s ours?”
Elsie glares at them with a look that could melt steel, then motions for Paris to come closer. She doesn’t begin speaking until their faces are inches apart through the bars.
“I just got a look at the toxicology report.” Elsie’s tone is a hair above a whisper. “They found cocaine and amphetamines in Jimmy’s system. Did you know he was using again?”
