Reclaim: A Recovered Innocence Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

a word, goes around to the trunk, and opens it. I follow her, not knowing what else to do.
    “Empty your pockets and put everything inside,” she says as she powers off her phone. “We can’t take anything into the prison so we may as well leave everything here. Shut your phone off so it doesn’t ring and announce to would-be thieves that there’s something more than the spare in here.”
    I do as she says, digging everything out of my pockets. I’m in the process of turning my phone off when something moves out of the corner of my eye.
    “Plan on getting lucky some time today?” Lila twirls a condom between her fingers, flashing it back and forth.
    I drop my phone in the trunk and snatch the condom out of her hand. “A scout is always prepared.” I drop it back into the pile with the rest of my stuff and slam the trunk closed.
    “Why did you do that?”
    “Do what?”
    “The car key is in the trunk. How are we going to get out of here?”
    “Call Triple—shit! Our cellphones.”
    She drops her head back and stares up at the sky. “What did I do? What could I possibly have done to deserve this?”
    “It was an accident. And who leaves the keys to the car
in the
trunk
?”
    She glares at me. “The person with the keyless remote in her purse. That’s who.”
    “I’m sure there’s a phone we can use to call roadside assistance.”
    “That would be fine except they usually want the card number when you call. Mine’s in my purse in the trunk. Where’s yours?”
    I close my eyes and lower my head. “In my wallet. In the trunk.”
    “Yup.”
    I mentioned that I’m kind of a fuckup, didn’t I?

Chapter 4
Lila
    I felt really bad about the stupid fight I had with Nolan on the way out to the prison right up until he locked the keys in the trunk of the car. I’m kind of sensitive to covert racism. The overt stuff I can handle. It’s the double-meaning comments, the subtle injustice of being treated slightly differently that drives me nuts. It happens so down low that most people don’t even know it’s happening.
    Like the time when my grocery store had a vodka tasting. The sign clearly indicated that they would card everyone who tasted. I was standing close by trying to choose a wine for a dinner party. A blond woman came up for a taste. The woman giving out the samples was very chatty with her. Then a black woman who was clearly older than the blond approached the table. The sample lady carded the black woman. She never carded the white woman. See what I mean? Subtle. Subversive. But there all the same.
    That’s the kind of discrimination I can’t abide. It’s what keeps minorities like me—like Carla—on the other side of the line. Most people will probably think I’m being overly sensitive, looking for something that’s just not there. But it’s there. It’s
always
there.
    I know Nolan didn’t mean his comment the way I took it. He’s not a bad guy. A little goofy. Maybe a little absentminded. I can tell he wants to be helpful. He’s driven in a way he doesn’t have to be. After all, there’s no money in this case for him. He’s not getting paid a cent to be here with me today or for any of the work he’ll do. I need to remember that and stop being so hard on him. He doesn’t deserve it. It doesn’t hurt that he’s earnest and cute. Not really my type physically, but there’s something about him that seems to light a fire in me. Maybe that’s why I’ve been such a bitch to him. Distance. That’s what I’m trying to get here. Distance and perspective.
    I sigh inwardly and vow to not be so rigid and quick to draw the wrong conclusions with him. It’s not really his fault about the key in the trunk either. I embarrassed him. What was that thing he said about it? Oh, yeah.
    “You were a Boy Scout?” I ask, trying not to check out his ass as he bends over to see if there’s any way he can open the trunk.
    “Mmm. Eagle Scout.”
    “So you know how to do stuff like start a fire