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It was Saturday morning, seven days before Ernestine's release. Sue Ellen Brannigan had taken Amy into New Orleans for the weekend, and Tracy was at work in the prison kitchen.
"What I was sayin' was if me and Al can do anythin' for you--- you know--- send you things or---"
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"She's okay." Her tone was indifferent.
"All right."
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But Tracy knew there would be no cool time. Not with Big Bertha after her. The thought of what the giant bull-dyke had in mind for her made her physically ill.
"I seen that little girl. She seems real sweet."
"How's the nursemaid job goin'?" Ernestine asked.