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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."
Tracy turned. A laundryman was pushing a huge cart piled to the top with soiled uniforms and linens. Tracy watched, puzzled, as he headed for the exit.
"She's okay." Her tone was indifferent.
"How's the nursemaid job goin'?" Ernestine asked.
"Coming through," a male voice called out.
"All right."
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Tracy was no longer listening. She knew how she was going to escape.
"What I was sayin' was if me and Al can do anythin' for you--- you know--- send you things or---"
"I'll sure be glad to get outta here. I'll tell you one thing, I ain't never comin' back to this joint. If there's anythin' Al or me kin do for you on the outside---"
It was Saturday morning,cheap newports, 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.
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