CHAPTER TWELVE
Joy was in the dayroom at the pretrial detention center with a large group of other female arrestees.
Most of them were prostitutes or other petty criminals, but some were very violent criminals too.
She and the group she hung with, mainly the prostitutes, kept away from the violent bunch as they all waited together for their day in court.
Although many of her “friends” insisted they were all like family now, Joy would never go that far. She wanted nothing to do with that life. She had no business being there. She didn’t want to be there. And she wasn’t about to normalize something so wrong.
But she was their ringleader whether she wanted to be or not. They all clung to her. They all wanted to be around her. Her happiness became contagious and they loved her energy. Some even fell in love with her!
“You don’t belong here,” many of them kept saying to her. And their faith in her, despite the fact that the justice system didn’t believe a word she said, kept her going.
Although it was a shock to Joy, it was no surprise to any of her cellmates, when her name was called long before her trial date.
“Joynetta Johnson?”
When she heard her name, she quickly stood up. “Sir?”
“Let’s go,” the jailer said.
Joy wanted to ask go where, but she learned long ago to never question the authorities.
“What about me?” the other inmates were jokingly asking. “I wanna go too!” And they all laughed. But Joy couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
The jailer didn’t tell her anything as she escorted her down a series of halls.
And even after stopping at the window to sign for her purse and phone and clothes, and they told her to change into her own clothes, she refused to get excited.
Maybe her court date had changed? That was her main thought.
But once she was dressed back into that same baby-blue skirt suit and scarf she had worn the day she arrived in Chicago with her hopes and dreams, the jailer walked her down another long hall, pressed a button, the door was opened, and she was out of what she referred to as the cage. She was out.
But she still didn’t believe she was free to go. And she was afraid to ask. What if they made a mistake? What if they were releasing the wrong inmate?
Even if it was true, she was taking it.
But when she walked down another hall and was buzzed out of another door that led to a waiting room filled with regular Americans, not inmates, that was when she realized she was actually free.
The man she knew as William was standing against the wall looking down at his phone, as if he was writing a text message, when she walked out.
He didn’t seem to realize she had come into the room.
And she didn’t hurry over to him either.
He ignored her when she was calling his name.
Why should she rush to him now? And the way he looked so distinguished and rich in that suit, and what they said his full name was, unsettled her.
How could a man who owned that whole Skeffington building be bothered with somebody like her? It didn’t make sense!
She even began looking around, to make sure nobody else was there to pick her up because she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t understand why some uptown white dude like him would be going all out of his way to help her now when he wouldn’t even turn around when she needed his help the most.
William had been waiting for nearly an hour for the DA to personally order her immediate release, with all charges dropped, and she was expected to be released to him any moment now.
He was reading a text from Bobby, who had to get to the office to deal with a major client who had shown up uninvited insisting somebody see her.
Now she was insisting, Bobby text, that she see William himself.
Tell her to go fuck herself, William text back.
He was still filled with rage about what happened to Joynetta and the fact that she’d been incarcerated the entire time he was in Europe. And over ridiculous charges anybody could have seen were bullshit. He even dressed down that DA he was so angry.
When Max dropped William off at the jail, he drove to Skeffington where William’s regular driver, Ed Rivers, got behind the wheel and drove back to the jail.
Max and Bobby stayed at the office. Bobby to handle the irate client, and Max to handle any guards involved with Miss Johnson’s arrest. Max ordered a senior bodyguard to go with Ed to pick up the boss, which the guard quickly did.
Sloane also went with them to retrieve the boss although everybody knew her presence wasn’t necessary. But Sloane was too curious that he would do all of this for that girl she saw that day in the lobby. That made no sense to Sloane.
But William still couldn’t get over such an injustice.
He could still see that big, burly guard slamming Joynetta’s small body so violently to the floor as if he was in a wrestling match with his equal, and the fear on her sweet face haunted him still.
And on that video he watched of the incident, she was dressed so professionally that day in her blue skirt suit and heels, with her thick hair still looking wonderfully done despite the way she was being treated.
He invited her to come see him, to essentially come and get her dream job, and that was the treatment she received? He could hardly contain his rage.
But when he finally looked up and saw her standing over by the doorway, he stopped all movement. She looked so lost, and so sad. Nothing like the bubbly Joy he remembered at that restaurant. But he knew it was her. He hurried to her.
Joy was confused when she saw him hurrying her way.
After five weeks of detention with no hope in sight, she couldn’t understand why he would be hurrying to see her.
She even looked back, to make sure it wasn’t somebody behind her that he was rushing to see.
That would be a huge coincidence and she knew it, but her sense of reason flew out the window when they arrested her, and kept her in jail all this time, just for calling his name.
When William made it to her side, he placed his hands on both of her small arms. His face, Joy noticed, was super-serious. “Are you okay, Joynetta? Are you okay?”
She was nodding, although she looked extremely confused. “Yes sir,” she said. “Yes sir.”
She said she was okay, but he could see that she wasn’t. She was badly traumatized. He could see it in what used to be such sweet, happy eyes.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he said as he placed his arm around her waist and escorted her out of that police station.