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In the free world, this would likely be akin to a fabulous rags-to-riches story. But this wasn't the free world - it was fucking prison, Nicky pondered as she put on the pure-white jacket. And so, it was simply the story of a woman who, within mere months, had risen from barely able to cut an onion without cutting fingers to ruling an entire kitchen.
It had been an eventful couple of days, to say the least. With Gloria's date nearing, the Head Chef position had needed to be newly assigned. It had come down to either her or Flaca as the last two remaining original members of their ever-shrinking crew, and Nicky had jumped at the opportunity. Not because she considered herself a great cook - hell, no, she was still barely able to cut an onion - but because this was a chance for her to keep Red's legacy alive. Or some melodramatic shit. Anyway, she was determined to make her mother proud, and keeping the kitchen in the family and running it just the way she would have was the best way of honoring her.
Every once in a while, she saw Red in the rec room or during yard time. But in the limited time they were able to share, Nicky couldn't really tell if her transfer to Florida was helping her mother the way she wished. Sometimes, Lorna was there, too. These days, the brunette was a lot calmer and Nicky wondered if it was because she was medicated into numbness or drawn even further into her delusional headspace. But she didn't dare to bring up Sterling's death again, for fear of triggering another episode. This version of Lorna was a far cry from the bright and lively girl that Nicky had grown to love, but at least she was a lot less likely to get herself into trouble.
But she swore to herself that she'd speak up for them the moment she noticed that they were regressing. Apart from that, however, she wouldn't interfere. Trying not to get near the wall and all that.
She put on her lipstick.
Maybe it was silly, but having this with her, this thing that Red and Lorna used to have in common, gave her comfort and the strength to keep going. Since it was contraband, she couldn't wear it in Max, but Bell and McNeill were lenient enough. She wondered if it was because the two COs still felt some respect for the Russian from the olden days. Or fear. Probably fear.
She proceeded to walk up and down the isles and give orders to her new random assortment of knuckleheads chopping away on the workstations that had once been occupied by the likes of Red, Lorna and Shani. Thinking about it never ceased to hurt, but it also blew her mind that her dear new bozos were actually looking up to her and following her commands. Good thing that she was such a good, morally upright person. This certainly explained the occasional power trip of Red's.
She scratched her eye, careful not to make a mess of the mascara she'd put there.
The unappetizing sounds of retching and sploshing pulled Nicky back to the here and now. It came from a girl named Tali who was currently hunched over one of the sinks, sweating and shuddering after another round of barfing. Nicky hoped that the sight of the girl, who was suffering from withdrawal from a colorful rainbow of drugs, was deterring enough for the other crew members to not even think about ever getting near that shit.
(Deep down, she knew that it really wasn't. If you were determined to do drugs, you'd take them no matter what. But any impression, no matter how small, could help making a difference.)
The girl was an unlikely addition to the team. Nicky remembered that, when she was new to prison, she'd been desperate for drugs to the point of randomly begging other inmates without any sense of discretion, and ended up becoming part of Daya Diaz' little gang. So, when Nicky had started to recruit direly needed new members for the kitchen crew, she'd been surprised that Tali had not only asked her if she could join, but also if she, Nicky, could help her kick her drug habit. Nicky hadn't asked any questions, but even to her, who could see bullshit coming a mile away, it had appeared genuine, and if she could do her part to help a girl stay away from gangs and drugs, she was all for it.
But right now, Tali wasn't of much use. She clearly was in no condition to go back to work.
"Ay, Flaca," Nicky called her second-in-command who was busy prepping trays. "Take over for a mo, alright?"
The blonde walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet, then held a towel into the stream of water that flowed down to clear away the sick.
"C'mon, kiddo," she said, wrapping an arm around the girl who was still standing there. "Let's take a break, shall we?"
Tali allowed her to drag her behind the shelf and to lower her to the floor where she leant against the wall, hanging her head. Kneeling down in front of her, Nicky brought a hand under the girl's chin to lift her head and started to dab her face with the wet cloth. Tali shuddered and it racked her whole body.
"I know, this sucks, right? But you're doing great. You've got this."
Tali made a funny gesture that was half a nod, half a shake of the head.
"I don't," she whined, panting. "I was wrong. I can't do this. I need drugs. Please gimme drugs."
"Yeah, no. You've already gotten so far, if you're taking shit now, you're gonna fucking regret it."
When Tali still looked unconvinced, Nicky set aside the towel and grabbed the girl's face in her hands, forcing her to look her in the eye.
"Or I will make you regret it," she snarled. "What you're going through now will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you if I see you using again. And, trust me, girl, I've seen enough people tripping to know what a junkie on a high looks like. Understand?"
"Two strikes, that's what she gets."
Well, maybe that might be a little extreme. But she couldn't allow herself to get attached. Not to this girl, nor to anyone. Human connections simply don't last, especially not in a place like prison, but as a matter of principle, family always came first, even if it meant cutting loose a member if she was putting them in danger. And while she still refused to believe that people were lost causes by design, these days, she knew better than to give in to her savior complex.
"There's strength in admitting what you can't do."
Tali scowled defiantly. "Why do you even care?" she replied through gritted teeth and labored breaths. It would've been a reasonably intimidating sight if her face hadn't been running with tears and snot. "I'm just a fuck-up. Never been anything else, and now I've also fucking let a girl die. How's that? Still giving a shit?"
Nicky's stomach clenched, but she'd lie if she said she couldn't relate. The image of bloodied walls and a magazine flashed through her mind, and the thought of what, maybe, could have been, had she not been closing her eyes to Red's symptoms for so long, or decided to distance herself from Lorna on account of being petty and lovesick.
"Well, I'm not giving up on you, kiddo. And that's not just because I've spent a good amount of time in the same neck of woods. But that's a story for later. See, a wiser woman once told me that you've gotta hit rock bottom before you know which direction to go in. And, no offense, but since that's basically where you are right now, it can only get better. And we - all of us in here - we're gonna help making it better, alright? You're not alone. We've got your back. If you let us."
Suddenly, there was a shriek and the thumping of a boxful of vegetables falling to the floor.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Nicky exclaimed, reflexively jumping to her feet. But then she felt a tug at her wrist.
"Please don't go."
"Just five more minutes."
The memory of a deserted pharmacy, a little space shielded from the frantic masses running up and down the hallway, created a lump in her throat.
When she looked down at Tali, she saw that something in her expression had shifted and she could clearly see the fear now. Fuck, was that what she'd looked like to Red all those years ago?
She sat back down and, to her surprise, Tali grabbed onto the fabric of her jacket. Nicky wrapped her arms around the trembling body of the girl who heavily leant into her.
"It's okay," the blonde said, rubbing her sweaty back. "I'm here. I've got you."
They sat like that until Nicky felt Tali's shivers subside and considered it safe enough to let her back to work.
"Look, you can trust me, alright?" she told her, looking her in the eye again. "But I need to be able to trust you, too. That means no more drugs. And if you feel the itch, or if you get into any sort of trouble, you come to me. Got it?"
"Yeah."
"Promise me that."
Nicky offered her her hand. After a moment's consideration, Tali reluctantly lifted her own hand and shook it.
"Promise."
Nicky smiled. She stood up and helped Tali to her feet.
"Alright. Now off you go. We still have a fuckload of work before us."
Tali gave a nod, and as she watched her return to her workstation, Nicky knew that they were going to be okay.