Pretty Dangerous (3 page)

“I’ll just bet he did, the slimy weasel,”
MiMi hissed.

“We’re not sure yet what his lawyer will
say,” the interpreter continued. She paused as MiMi’s attorney
broke in with a few more sentences. “Mr. Columba says it may not be
a bad sign. Hold your patience.”

“You’re definitely channeling Willa,” MiMi
murmured.

“Qué?” The interpreter blinked at her in
puzzlement.

“Never mind.” MiMi decided not to look at
Roderick again. Her “patience” would be tested enough being in the
same space with him.

For the next forty minutes, a lot of legal
housekeeping went on interminably. The lawyers and others
apparently found it all quite routine. The judge even left a few
times. Papers got shuffled as the court reporter and others went
through whatever procedures they needed to complete. MiMi scowled
when Roderick’s attorney got to go first. She listened as the
interpreter recounted his version of the events, which included
MiMi wanting to party as much as he did. In this case implying she
wanted to buy weed, too. She twisted her hands together tightly,
wishing Roderick’s lying neck was between them. Finally the
interpreter stopped. MiMi’s hearted pounded.

“What’s happening? Is he blaming me?” she
whispered.

The woman shushed her, and when the judge
paused, she and the lawyer nodded to one another before she spoke.
“Mr. Jefferson had less than two ounces, so he will pay a fine and
must leave the country. He admitted that you didn’t go with him to
buy the weed, and the police can’t find the dealer.”

“Hallelujah,” MiMi burst out.

The judge squinted at her as his words came
out in rapid fire, all in Spanish of course. He banged his gavel to
punctuate his displeasure.

“Lo siento mucho, tu honor,” MiMi said
promptly. She’d practiced that phrase with coaching from Luz for
two weeks at least.

The judge’s frown eased. Her show of respect
seemed to have helped. “No más de de que usted, señorita.”

“Sí.” MiMi looked down at the table.

“Very good, Miss Landry,” Mr. Columba
whispered.

Then he stood and began to speak to the judge
in Spanish. For another twenty minutes, MiMi followed the exchange
between the lawyers. She sat rigid while Roderick spoke with the
aid of his own interpreter. MiMi’s lips curled. Obviously scared
spitless, Roderick went overboard groveling before the court. The
judge’s dark eyes sparkled as he exhaled heavily a few times as
Roderick rambled on begging for mercy. He talked about his parents
depending on him to run the family business his grandfathers had
founded, and mentioning his maternal grandmother’s poor health.

“He’s got to be kidding,” MiMi mumbled and
got a gentle poke from the interpreter.

She pressed her lips together. She wanted to
tell the court that Roderick rarely visited the grumpy widow. The
old lady had threatened to disinherit him more than a few times.
His father regularly called him worse than useless. Roderick made
it sound like he was a valued son whose absence threatened the
family business. In fact, his younger brother spent twice the time
managing their commercial properties and construction projects than
he did.

The judge finally cut him off. “Sí, sí, Mr.
Jefferson. Your points are made.”

Roderick stammered to a halt as his lawyer
patted his shoulder. The man practically pushed Roderick down to
his chair again. MiMi chuckled softly. When she looked back, Jazz
grinned and rolled her eyes. Willa merely shook her head slowly.
The judge gave a long speech during which the interpreter
maintained a respectful silence. MiMi tried not to shake the woman
to make her talk.

Mr. Columba thanked the judge. MiMi
understood that part of what he said. The tension in her shoulders,
neck and back eased at the smile her lawyer exchanged with the
judge. When the prison guard came toward her, MiMi blinked as tears
formed in her eyes.

“No, no. Is alright. You come with us, okay?”
Mr. Columba gave her elbow a quick reassuring squeeze before he
gathered up his files.

“This way, please,” the interpreter said.

“Okay.” MiMi sniffed a couple of times.

Willa, ever the maternal type, handed her a
small package of tissues. “Can we come, too?”

The interpreter smiled at her. “Sí.”

Another case was being called as they left.
MiMi glanced around at the orderly chaos around them. She had to
admit that this was not the rush-to-judgment-third-world nightmare
she’d dreaded. The courthouse was modern and clean. Lovely murals
depicting Dominican Republic history covered the walls. Leading the
way, Mr. Columba took them to a small conference room down the hall
from the courtroom.

“The hearing went quite well. Mr. Jefferson
admitted you didn’t go with him to buy the drugs. I also got his
lawyer to admit that the drug dealer had no contact with you.” The
lawyer beamed at MiMi and everyone else. His smile seemed to say he
was more impressed with his own skills than happy for his
client.

“Trust me, the judge caught on that Roderick
was trying to blame you without making it look too obvious.” Jazz
smiled when the interpreter blinked at her in surprise. “Yeah, I
speak Spanish pretty good.”

“As I was saying,” Mr. Columba broke in
before anymore talk strayed from his shining moment. “The judge
takes into account you have no criminal record in America. You
didn’t have the marijuana on your person. So you pay fine and free
to go.”

“Yes!” MiMi stretched her arms over her head.
“Praise Jesus! Okay, y’all, let’s get the blip out of here. I hope
you have my plane ticket. They can keep those few knick-knacks I
had at the prison.”

“Yeah, we got your suitcase from the resort
hotel,” Jazz said. Still,

she wore a slight frown.

“Then I’m ready. We can go straight to the
airport right now.” MiMi faced the prison guard. “Thanks and tell
the girls bye for me.”

“Wait up a minute,” Willa said, a palm up
like the school principal announcing the bell hadn’t rung just yet.
She turned to Mr. Columba. “You mentioned the fine?”

“Yes, you can pay right here. You have five
thousand American dollars, yes?” He looked at Willa and then at
Jazz. “Plus about five hundred dollars in court costs.”

“Sure we do,” Jazz retorted.

“Then there is the matter of my fee. The
balance is two thousand US dollars.” Mr. Columba raised a dark
eyebrow when neither Willa nor Jazz spoke.

“I thought Mr. Landry paid you in full,”
Willa said as she waved at MiMi to be quiet.

“No, only the retainer.” Mr. Columba spoke to
the interpreter in Spanish.

“The lady cannot be released until the fine
and legal fees are paid,” the interpreter translated.

“Okay, okay. We’ve got to work on it,” Willa
replied. She rubbed her forehead and paced in a circle.

Officer Alvarez wore a smirk as she turned to
MiMi. “So you come back with me after all, eh? You can tell
everyone goodbye for yourself.”

MiMi backed away from the woman. “Willa, get
daddy on the phone and have him wire the money. Can’t I wait here
until then?”

“Um, I have to track him down at his office.
It might take more than an hour or so, MiMi.” Willa glanced at
Jazz.

“We talking big money, closing in on ten
thousand. We don’t know how your daddy is gonna take the news,”
Jazz said bluntly.

Mr. Columba spoke again in Spanish to the
interpreter. MiMi flinched as he talked and the guard’s smile grew
wider. When the interpreter took a deep breath and exhaled before
speaking, MiMi knew the news was bad.

“If the fine is not paid the sentence could
be up to eight months at least. Seven since you’ve almost been here
a month. So that’s something,” the interpreter said. She tried a
weak smile, but it faded as she gazed at the expression on MiMi’s
face.

“I can’t stay in this place for seven months.
I’ll miss my baby’s birthday and...” MiMi covered her face and
cried.

“Don’t freak out. Your father will need time
to make the arrangements, that’s all Jazz meant.” Willa eased her
into a chair and placed an arm around MiMi’s shoulders.

“Uh, right, right. I’m just sayin’ he’ll need
a minute to get over the shock. That’s a lot of cash,” Jazz
said.

“He’s going to say no,” MiMi blurted out.

“Your mother will speak up if he acts crazy
I’m sure,” Willa said. She handed MiMi a hand full of tissues.

MiMi wiped her eyes and sniffed a few times.
Despite the despair settling over her, MiMi sat straight in an
effort to be brave. “You obviously don’t know my parents. Guess
I’ll have to get used to prison life.”

Jazz studied MiMi for a few moments longer.
“Girl, you gotta tell us the story about the Landry family.”

“I’ll call your father the minute we leave
here.” Willa patted MiMi on the back as she spoke.

“Yeah, if we have to send somebody to help
convince him, that’s what we’ll do,” Jazz added.

“Qué?” Mr. Columba let loose with a string of
Spanish.

“We don’t want trouble or to be party to any
kind of threats. We’re a country of laws,” the interpreter’s eyes
went wide as she tried to keep up with him.

“No, no, we only meant that my parents would
go over to appeal to him on MiMi’s behalf,” Willa said just as
rapidly. She glared at Jazz. “You stay with MiMi and keep your
mouth shut.”

Jazz smacked her lips. “Fine.”

Willa motioned to the lawyer and interpreter
to speak with her privately. The prison guard chuckled, amused at
the scene unfolding. MiMi tried to resign herself to the
inevitable. She could almost see the image of her mother’s cold
expression of distaste.

Jazz looked at the guard. “Hey, can give us a
few more feet of privacy.”

“Take all the time you need. Your friend has
plenty looks like.” The guard went over to stand by the one window.
She smiled at them as she leaned against the wall.

“What’s up with your mama and daddy?” Jazz
whispered close to MiMi’s ear.

“We’re not exactly a happy family. That’s the
short version.” MiMi gave a bitter laugh at the understatement.

“Yeah, but they’ve got the money and their
kid is in a third world prison. They gotta know this is some
serious shit.” Jazz poked MiMi’s arm to get more information.

MiMi sighed. She hadn’t talked to Willa or
Jazz much about her family. They’d grown up in a very different
world of poverty, foster homes, and abusive adults. MiMi by
contrast had attended excellent private schools, had the best
clothes, and went through all the Black upper-class rituals. Yes,
they had money, status and respectability. And they were as
dysfunctional as hell.

“We have our own unique issues,” MiMi
replied. “They care more about appearances for one thing.”

“More than their kid? That’s some dark shit.
No wonder you don’t talk about ‘em much,” Jazz murmured.

“I don’t think about it that much,” MiMi
replied and sat straight. “I have an idea. Mention the longer this
drags on, the more chances it will make the news.”

“Damn, and I thought our parents were messed
up.” Jazz shook her head.

They sat in companionable silence for a few
minutes, mulling over their mother issues. Willa strode back in
with a determined smile. The lawyer and interpreter followed behind
her.

“Mr. Columba and the judge have been most
helpful. I also talked to Mr. Landry.” Willa’s smile stretched
tighter when she referred to MiMi’s father. “He understands our
situation.”

“Our situation? I’m sitting in prison,” MiMi
clipped. She was about to go on but stopped when Willa shot a
sideways glance in the lawyer’s direction. Something in Willa’s
expression implied subtext that begged for explanation. Yet MiMi
could tell Willa didn’t want to talk in front of the others. MiMi
sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Willa walked up to MiMi and took bother her
hands. “I’m working on getting you out in the morning.”

“Okay.”

After saying their goodbyes, during which
MiMi managed not to cry, she was taken back to the prison. She fell
into the cell block routine with frightening ease. Three weeks
locked up and she seemed to become an inmate in spirit as well as
physically. The guards went through the procedure of searching her.
Then she changed back into prison clothes, was searched again and
taken to a mandatory class. Reforms at Najayo Prison included
regular activities. Not only did prison officials want the women to
learn skills, they knew inmates sitting around all day everyday
only led to trouble.

The instructor let out a sharp sigh of relief
when she saw MiMi. “Oh good, you’re still here. I’ve told the
assistant warden thirty students is too big a class. I have them in
groups. You take those two.”

“Yeah, Senorita Suarez. Thank heavens she’s
still locked up for you, huh?” Rosaria, a short inmate always
poking fun, let out a gruff laugh. She grinned when others giggled
at her joke.

Mrs. Suarez turned pink. “Of course I didn’t
mean... I’m sorry you weren’t released, MiMi. Of course I am.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get started,”
MiMi said to cut off more stammering and apologizing.

They were reading a sweeping romance novel
with plenty of family conflict. MiMi had suggested using commercial
fiction as a way to get the women more engaged in discussions. They
talked about family conflict, making the right life choices, and of
course, men. As the class went on, MiMi worked to pay attention,
but had trouble concentrating. Fortunately, the current chapter had
so much drama, a lively discussion went on without prompting. Mrs.
Suarez must have noticed MiMi’s distracted mood. She didn’t scold
her. Instead, the older woman took control of most of the hour long
class. When the bell signaled lunch time, Mrs. Suarez asked MiMi to
stay behind. She nodded to the guard.

Luz separated from the other women jostling
to leave. “I’ll put up the books and stuff for you, Mrs. S.”