Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
So we had to somehow figure out how to make something even halfway edible out of those ingredients. We had lucked out with a kitchen manager who was open to suggestions, not stick to the 'toss everything in the pot and serve everyone a gruel-like substance' rule most prisons were known for.
Chili was a favorite - meat or veg and beans, depending on the day. Soups - vegetable, minestrone, potato. Black bean and lentil loaf.
I had always enjoyed cooking, but there in prison was when I had truly fallen in love with it, with its potential, with the fun that was trying to make bland foods tasty. I had entertained the idea for a while that when I got out, I might try to get into some sort of culinary school, find a cooking job somewhere.
But then as the years stretched on, as more time passed me by, things like plans and hopes and dreams slipped away.
Who would give me a loan for school?
And even if I had figured that out, who would want to hire me?
Tanner had fucked me.
Not just out of the ten years the law demanded of me.
But my life.
All of it.
Because I would have a record. I would be unemployable. I would be viewed as less than other people who wanted the same job. And if given the choice between two equally educated persons, one with a criminal record, and one without, well, who would you pick?
Exactly.
So there was no use trying to, as Thad had suggested, map out the rest of my life.
That was when the plan started to form.
That was when I decided I had to make Tanner pay for what he did to me.
And the determination I found in that decision was what had helped me get through the rest of my sentence.
"You know where he is now?" Virgin asked after the waiter had taken our plates, making me realize I had barely tasted what I had eaten. First, I had been too engrossed in Virgin's story, then too overcome with memories of my own to try to figure out what the cooks used in their sauce, if the ratio of garlic and parsley to butter in their garlic bread was perfect, or even think to try out Virgin's dish.
My first time at a fancy restaurant and I had zoned out while eating.
"Tanner? No," I admitted, reaching for my wine. Virgin had politely tasted his glass, but hadn't touched it since, apparently not a wine drinker.
If I were being honest, I hadn't even been looking very hard. The woman I had been behind bars would have chewed me out for wasting my time building bonds, getting my hair and nails done, screwing around with new dishes at home to maybe suggest to Abby someday. The woman who had been caged like an animal would have been pissed that I was even thinking of 'someday,' when all I should have been doing was searching for Tanner, making him pay.
It was interesting what a little space from that hellhole managed to do.
Restore things I had forgotten.
Love. Hope. Plans. Possibilities.
I wasn't sure there was enough of that old woman left in me to do anything even if I did happen across Tanner.
I didn't even know if I could find the strength to approach him, have my say, make it clear what he did to me since he clearly hadn't spared me a thought in all the time I took a fall for him.
Let alone do what the dark, ugly parts of me had dreamed of as I sat up in bed at night.
Thoughts that involved guns and bullets and shots fired and cuffs on my wrists and the rest of my life behind bars. This time for something I had actually done.
"You think he is still in town?" Virgin asked, tone almost a little cautious? But why would that be? Because he was worried I might find my lady-balls and do it after all?
"I haven't seen him here, but it is a big town. There are so many people. He could still be here. Or, for all I know, he is locked up."
Which was another thing I had never considered while I wasted all those years in hate and loathing.
What if his ways had already caught up with him? What if he was serving time for his crimes? Behind bars where I couldn't even get to him if I tried.
"What's he look like?" Virgin wanted to know, something that made my brows go down, wondering why he would want to know. To look out for him for me, maybe? Did I even want him to do that? Open up that possibility for me?
"Ah. This was a long time ago. He could look a lot different now. But he was tall, but not as tall as you. Maybe five-ten? On the thin side. He had this really badly done spiderweb tattoo on the left side of his neck. Brown eyes. Kinda on the small side. Dark hair."