Chapter 41
CJ
The prison guard left her in a tile room, with tile walls and tile floors. When he closed the door, CJ almost gagged at the stench. Stale sweat and fresh body odor. Then the crackle of a microphone dragged her attention to a woman sitting behind a rectangular window in the wall.
The woman looked fifteen years younger than CJ, with heavy lipstick and thick eyebrows. Through the window, she handed her scrubs that said PROPERTY OF SANTA BARBARA COUNTY JAIL, along with a bin with her linens and a printed guide of jail rules.
Nothing happened for an hour after she had changed.
She sat against the wall, then realized the squiggles on the tile floor weren’t designs, they were curls of hair.
She stood and read the guide until a guard came and took her along a corridor to what he called a “tank,” which was a room with eight double-bunks.
A few of the women inside the tank studied her.
Some of them talked to her. One kept hitting herself in the head with the heel of her hand.
CJ couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t bear it. She needed help, but when the intake officer had asked for her next of kin, the only person she could think of was Frank.