Rose lay on her bed mindlessly staring at the ceiling; one hand rest beneath her head, the other with fingers dancing across her stomach. She had only been locked up once before and managed to talk her way out of it. At the time, Rose was still an innocent teen, fresh out of high school; club ink had yet to make an appearance. Turns out sweet old Unser's memory was not as keen as it once was and had "misidentified" the accused and "uncovered" evidence of a reliable alibi.
On the other side of the tiny cage, one of Rose's cellmates began her daily meditation. The soft humming had made its way to Rose's ear causing her eyelids to begin to droop. Her fingers stopped moving across her stomach and just lay flat.
"Rose… Rose wake up."
She squeezed her eyes shut hoping whoever woke up her would just disappear if she did not respond.
"Rose, I know you're awake now. Rose, its almost time for lunch."
The sound of her name coming from a stranger's mouth made her skin crawl. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, Rose's stomach emitted a guttural sound. As much as she wanted to sleep, the brunette opened her eyes and jumped down from her bunk. As she stepped into her shoes, an office came by and opened the cell. One by one, the narrow hallway began to fill up. Everyone had quickly fallen into place, eagerly waiting to fill their empty bellies with whatever disgusting food was being served that day. The smell of grease and ketchup filled her nostrils as Rose held back the urge to gag.
"Klein, Larson, Levin, and… Lowman. Phone calls today, you've got 5 minutes."
Rose felt a rough hand guide her toward a row of payphones. As she began dialing, Rose silently prayed for someone to answer. An officer leaned against the opposite wall, staring at her watch. The phone rang for a few moments before a voice came through.
"Teller Morrow, what can I do for ya?" He was out of breath like he just ran a marathon to get to the phone.
Rose smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, "Chucky, how's it going? It's Rose."
"Rose!? Oh my goodness, I heard what happened. How are you doing? Do you need me to send you anything? Have you spoken to the lawyers yet? If it means anything, I think you're innocent." Chucky spoke a mile a minute, flustered and caught off guard.
"I'll write you, Chucky, I don't have much time on the phone. Can you get Hap for me, quickly?" As much as Rose loved talking to Chucky it wasn't the time. The officer had just signaled that one minute had already passed.
Chucky nodded to himself, "I'm on it!" He dropped the receiver on the metal desktop and took off sprinting through the lot to the clubhouse. There were a few croweaters behind the bar and one passed out on the couch, her head resting in the lap of an intoxicated Tig. "Happy? Hap, are you in here?"
Tig rubbed is eyes before giving the croweater in his lap a soft tap on the cheek. She left out a soft yawn before lazily unzipping Tig's jeans. "He's in his room." Tig muttered hoping to shut Chucky up.
Rose drummed her fingers against her stomach impatiently, only three minutes left and she still had yet to speak to her husband. She was just about to give up and just call Gemma for a quick chat when a husky voice on the other end sent chills down her spine.
"Rosie," It was good to hear him say her name, "I'm sorry."
Rose shook her head, "No time for apologies, you can write me a letter about how sorry you are. Right now, I just want to hear your voice."
Happy sighed, "We're going to get you out of there. I promise."
The brunette smiled to herself, "I believe you."