Chapter Text
“Best of luck in your future Ms. Bellini,” an older, grey-haired guard said smiling at Allison as she slid the plastic bag of all of Allison’s worldly possessions under a plexiglass barrier at the discharge desk.
Allison almost told her to “fuck off” but bit her tongue not wanting to screw up her release. Sneering, she replied a pointed “thanks” while grabbing the bag. She turned and followed the next guard down a short hallway to a small room, identical to the ones used for strip searches. Even though Allison was out of shackles, out of instinct she waited for the guard to go in first fully expecting to be strip searched one last time.
The guard gave a small smile while shaking her head, knowing exactly what Allison was thinking having seen thousands of other women with the same reaction. “Go ahead, no search today inmate”.
Allison let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in and happily closed and locked the door behind her. She dug into the large plastic bag and pulled out one of the two changes of clothes given to her from the prison, all thanks to a women’s charity. She changed into what she hoped were a clean pair of pink cotton panties and white cotton bras with a harsh underwire. After putting on the pair of blue skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt from the bag. She kicked off the plastic slides she was wearing and dug in the bag for shoes. Finding none she sighed, realizing she had to put up with the flimsy, bacteria ridden orange slides until she had enough money to buy real shoes.
When she was done, she opened the door and the guard waiting outside escorted her down a windowless long hallway. Once at a large steel door, the guard signalled with her hand at a security camera mounted into the ceiling to open the door.
“Just follow this path to end, and the guard will let you out. Congratulations, hope to not see you back here,” the guard said without much emotion, having said the same line twenty times that day already.
The California sunshine blinded Allison for a second. But once her vision calmed, she quickly walked outside and treaded down a narrow concrete path for a few feet before she passed through a final wire gate in the outermost wire fence. Once on the other side of the fence, Allison walked a few steps and turned around to get once last good look at the concrete shithole she thought she would grow old and die in. Since she entered Chowchilla State Penitentiary, she dreamed of this day but didn’t really think it would ever happen. God doesn’t seem to answer her prayers.
A couple loud honks from a car behind her, managed to startle Allison out of her trance. She quickly spun around, ready to lip off the moron in the newer black model Toyota Camry that scared her. When she realized who it was, she her heart rate lowered significantly.
“Sorry dear, didn’t mean to startle you”.
“Judy,” Allison smiled at the menopausal aged social worker.
Judy was 4’11” and as round around the belly as she was tall. Every time they met, Judy wore some type of silky animal print summer dress and her hair styled into a sleek bob. Orange-red lipstick and clumpy mascara also seemed to be a favourite.
“Thank you for giving me a ride to Charming and setting all this up for me.”
“All part of the job dear. It’s always a great day at work when I get to set up a somebody on the outside,” Judy replied warmly.
Allison felt at ease around Judy upon their first meeting two weeks ago the day her release date was set. Judy was a liaison social worker for a women’s charity that worked with inmates of the California Department of Corrections. The charity helped women find jobs on the outside, and provided them with lodging for a short-period.
Judy tilted her head slightly analyzing the deer in the headlights on Allison. It always hurt Judy’s heart a bit seeing how scared some women were once they were free. She gave Allison a few moments to let Allison process whatever thoughts she was having before asking “are you ready?”
“Yeah,” Allison said quietly as she climbed into the passenger seat. She buckled up and hugged her bag of possessions across her chest.
As they drove out into the access road leading to the highway, Allison looked out the window to her right and felt the disassociated fog lift from her brain when the prison was no longer in view after a few minutes of driving.
“So, it’s about two hours into Charming so feel free to sleep. Or just let me know if you want to listen to certain type of music. I know they wake you ladies up at the crack of dawn for no reason on release day,” Judy commented once she noticed Allison turning her head to at road.
“Where am I staying?” Allison asked.
“St. Rita’s Women’s Charity provides all former inmates with a motel room for seven days who are not on parole. It’s not a lot, but I got you into a motel called Willie’s Motel and Bar,” Judy replied. She continued “and we also have a weeks on living expenses in cash that I’ll give you once we get to the motel. It is not a lot but you won’t go hungry.”
“Alright – thanks.” After a pause, Allison asked “could we listen to a country station? Not much of sleeper, especially on the road”.
“Of course, dear.”
As luck had it, the country station was playing oldies as it was a Sunday afternoon. Being an Italian-American from Queens, retro country was a surprising choice to most people when they found out it was her favourite type of music. Ironically Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried” was playing, a song about a remorseful inmate. Most of the two hours were spent in silence between the two women. Allison had so many thoughts running through her mind that scared her.
When would her ex’s in-laws and their associates find out that she was out, and would they pay her a visit?
What hell was Allison going to do without a gun? She wasn’t on parole so she could get one, but if she had to use a firearm against some goons, she preferred that her gun didn’t have serial numbers.
How long will it take the members of SAMCRO to realize who she is?
Does she want to reconnect with Juice? He was still in Charming, at least he was when he last visited her over a year ago at Thanksgiving.
Will anybody SAMTAC still want to hurt her for being Paul Maganoli’s ex-old lady?
When the pair pulled into the gravel parking lot of her motel, it was evidently rundown from the exterior. If there are no bugs and clean sheets, it’ll be like staying at the Shangri-La compared to Chowchilla.
After they checked in, Judy walked with Allison to room 105 which faced the parking lot. After making sure the card worked and the room was clean, Judy sat down on one of the two queen beds in the room. She dug in her purse an pulled out a big white envelope.
“Okay hun, in here you have the cash I mentioned, and cell that paid had minutes on it for one month,” Judy continued “I put my in number in there already in case you need anything.”
“Thank you very much,” Allison murmured as she hesitantly accepted the envelope from Judy. Somehow having cash and phone finally made it real that she was in fact on the outside now.
“I’ll be here tomorrow to pick you up for our meeting at St. Thomas Hospital. But,” Judy paused as she looked down at Allison’s feet noticing for the first time she didn’t have proper shoes, “I’ll take you to get some proper shoes and lunch. My treat.”
Shocked by Judy’s offer, Allison stammered, “A-alright that’s kind.”
“Great,” Judy beamed as she stood up. Allison followed her to the door and the two exchanged a hug before she closed and dead-bolted the door.
“Fuck”, Allison thought. She was pissed at herself for feeling scared on what should be one of the best days of her life.
Allison stood taking in aesthetics of the room that were clearly out of the 1970s. Dark brown wood paneling covered all four walls. The curtains were a nasty shade of yellow from decades of cigarette smoke and the air conditioner sounded like a clunky diesel engine. The carpet was a thick brown shag rug, full of people’s foot sweat and God only knows else. She would be always keeping shoes on that’s for sure.
She went into the bathroom for the first time saw that the rub had a shower and was seventies avocado green. She tested the water of the shower and the matching green sink and toilet. Allison sighed when she caught herself in the cracked mirror over hanging over the sink. Her straight red hair sat just over her shoulders and had lost a lot of the volume it had in her youth from stress. Her pale white skin reflected the stress of her life, with small crowsfeet and frown lines visible. The bags under her blue-grey eyes could make people mistake her for Fester Addams from 1990’s Addams Family films.
A nearly penniless felon, living in a hooker motel is not where she ever thought she would be the highlight of her thirty-fourth year on earth.
Allison stood in front of the body length mirror, in the bathrooms by the main entrance of St. Thomas Hospital. She was beyond thankful that in the morning, Judy stopped at a drugstore and bought her some makeup before picking her up from the motel. The light powder foundation, concealer, pink lip gloss and mascara really did wonders. She wished she had a more formal attire than the jeans and t-shirt she wore yesterday but a pants suit was out of her price range. The shoes she picked out this morning were a sensible pair of black adidas sneakers. Comfortable and suitable for both working in a hospital and all the walking she would be doing around town, seeing as that she no longer had a driver’s license or a vehicle.
After about five minutes of following an endless queue of directional signs, Allison and Judy finally found the door that had, Margaret Murphy, Hospital Administer and General Supervisor, written in large black type.
A short red headed woman, in a grey pants suit was conversing with a man that appeared to be a doctor. When she saw Allison and Judy, she excused herself and walked up to the pair.
“You must be Allison,” the administrator addressed Allison as she held out her for a shake.
“That’s right,” Allison smiled and shook her hand.
“Margaret Murphy,” Margaret formally introduced herself to Allison before turning to Judy and saying, “Judy, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
“Likewise, Ms. Murphy”.
“Well, should we get started Ms. Bellini?” Margaret questioned in an analytical tone.
“Please, I’ve been looking forward to discussing this opportunity ever since Judy told me about it,” Allison said, shocking herself with how confident she sounded because, Allison was scared shitless by Margaret’s cool demeanour.
Margaret fished out her keys from her pants pocket and opened the door to her office. When Allison followed Margaret inside, she was very impressed by what she saw. In her experience, administrator's offices usually looked like a paper tornado had blown through. However, Margaret's office was the exact opposite. It seemed like every object and file folder had its own distinct spot. To top it all off, there was even a linen scented air freshener wafting through the room.
"Please have a seat," Margaret gestured with her hand to a chair on the opposite side of her desk.
Allison blushed realized how much of an idiot she must have seemed by standing in the doorway, looking like a deer in headlights. When she sat down, Margaret pulled a file out of her top desk drawer and opened it. She took a second to re-familiarize herself with the papers before speaking.
“I called Tacoma General Hospital and had them send over your file from your previous employment. Your old supervisor had nothing but praise when I inquired about you. The head nurse in paediatrics department said you were an exceptionally competent and dedicated RN. Now, you are more than qualified for the position Ms. Bellini, the only issue is -"
"My criminal record," Allison cut her off.
"Yes," Margaret sighed. She readjusted her glasses before she continued on, "When Judy contacted me about a possible work placement, and explained your situation combined with your experience in nursing, I had no hesitation bringing the proposal of employment to our board. The criminal record check that came back last week verifies that your only charge on record now is one count of imperfect self-defence. Normally, this would mean automatic rejection. However, your willingness to provide your incarceration records helped greatly as it showed myself and the board that you took advantage of every opportunity to better yourself and overcome your previous obstacles while inside.”
Allison was on the edge of her seat listening to Margaret talk, wishing she would just get to the point already. False hope was a hell of thing to put on an ex-con.
“Obviously your RN qualification have lapsed and with your record you cannot reapply for renewal. However, the board passed a motion to offer you a trial contract of six months to work as a unit clerk on our peds/neo-natal wing. There are some short courses the hospital provides to help you get up to date on procedure and such, but with your medical knowledge I think you would be a great fit for St. Thomas hospital. If you accept starting wage is $23 per hour, full time hours plus overtime pay. How does that sound to you?”
Allison's jaw scraped the floor in disbelief. When Judy told her that there was program at St. Thomas for felons, she assumed it was in laundry or scrubbing shitters. This job meant a decent wage and even health benefits.
"I uh," Allison stuttered. “when – I mean yes I am very interested in this role”.
Margaret's face broke out into a grin, “That's wonderful to hear. Now the hospital offers bi-monthly, CPR and first aid courses. The next set starts in two weeks. After you pass those and another week long course about how to use our unit management software we will schedule you.” Margaret slid a large brown envelope across her desk to Allison. “This is your contract, information about your upcoming courses, including the dates and times. Now, I’ll get you in contact with HR to start the process, what is a good number to reach you at?”
“Um, let me check,” Allison said and she opened her new cellphone and searched for it’s number in settings. “(209) 555-0112”.
“Wonderful, I’ll pass this along to Trisha in HR,” Margaret replied after jotting down the number on a yellow sticky note. She then stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk. Allison stood up from her own chair and shook Margaret’s outstretched hand.
“I cannot thank you enough for this chance Ma’am,” Allision smiled.
Had her luck turned around? Is that what life on the outside is going to be like?
Allison was lying down on her bed at Willie's Motel, trying to recuperate from her hectic day. It was 8:30pm and Judy had just said her goodbyes. Judy was adamant that Allison call if she needed anything, but Allison felt like she couldn’t accept any more charity.
After the interview, Judy took Allison to the DMV in Lodi where she got a new license, somehow without having to repeat a road test - it was some kind of loophole that Allison didn’t quite understand but she was not going to question it.
She had about $220 left to get her through four weeks until her first paycheque came in. She didn’t trust leaving that much cash around in such a shitty motel so tomorrow she planned to open a chequing account at the credit union in Charming.
Tomorrow Allison would stop at the boutique down the block, and pick herself up a few outfits, seeing as the only clothes she owned were the ones she was wearing and the spares that the prison gave her.
There was only one more thing she wanted to do before her whirlwind of a day ended. She sat up, put on her shoes, grabbed her room key and cell phone before leaving. She walked straight for three blocks, took a right, and found herself approaching the TM Automotive compound. She was relieved to see that it was still bustling with activity, so there was a good chance Juice was there.
When she walked into the compound she noticed that there was a herd of Dyna motorcycles lined up in a row between the SAMCRO clubhouse, and the TM automotive building. To not chance running into any of the members who might recognize her (even though she knew the chances were slim), she decided to see if anybody was in the garage office. When she walked up to the door, she was relieved to see that it was open and that there was a lady sitting at the desk inside.
"Hello," Allison called out as she knocked on the door.
The older looking woman looked up from her paperwork, clearly irritated by the disturbance, "You here to get your car fixed honey?"
"No," Allison replied curtly, unimpressed by the woman's tone, "I was just wondering if Juice Ortiz is around?"
The lady's lips parted slightly in shock, "Why?"
"Is he, or isn't he?" Allison spewed. She was tired, and the last thing she wanted to do was play a back and forth game of passive aggressive, bullshit.
"He's not," the woman stated as took off her reading glasses and threw them onto her desk. She stood and walked up to Allison so that they were face to face.
"What’s your name honey?"
"Who wants to know?" Allison retorted, unfazed by the lady's attempted intimidation.
"Gemma Teller-Morrow," she huffed.
"Allison Bellini," Allison replied. She got an internal thrill when she answered with her maiden name, and not he ex's surname.
"Well Allison," Gemma intentionally accentuated her name, "Juice isn't here. He's locked up in Stockton - gets out in five months."
"That explains a lot," Allison mumbled to herself. She wondered why she hadn't gotten a letter or call from Juice in a while. "Does he have visitation privileges?"
"Why does that concern you sweetie?" Gemma raised an inquisitive brow at her.
"If you don't tell me, I'll find somebody who will," Allison had about enough of this bitch's shit.
"Yeah, he does. Not sure about a conjugal though," Gemma felt pleased at being able get in a jab.
Who the hell did this chick think she was, just waltzing into TM and talking to Gemma like that?
"Thanks," Allison replied curtly as she turned around to leave the office.
What a surprise Juice will have when he sees Allison being the one with the "Visitor", sticker on her chest when she goes to see him in Stockton tomorrow.
Kozik, Chibs, and Filthy Phil, were all working in the garage when Allison and Gemma were talking. The door connecting the garage to the office was open, so the guys heard the entire conversation.
When they saw Allison walking away from the garage, Chibs put the wrench he was holding aside, and called out, "eh' Gemma, get out here."
Gemma walked out into the garage, "Yeah?" Her tone portrayed that she was still worked up by Allison's visit.
"What in tarnation was that all about?" Chibs asked, voicing all the men's thoughts.
"Some gash named Allison, looking for Juice. I don't remember Juice having a girl named Allison though," Gemma's mind was churning. Outsiders, especially rude bitches, were low on her list of people to trust and tolerate.
Chibs nodded understanding. He couldn't lie to himself that that "gash" sure had one hell of a nice body. It kind of felt like a stone dropped into his gut when Gemma said that Allison was looking for Juice.
Gemma and Chibs then went on to talk about some sort of foul up on a customer's car, and completely moved on from the topic of Allison.
Kozik however, remained as still as a statue and watched Allison disappear into the darkness when she rounded the corner, and left the TM compound.
"I'm going to punch out," Kozik mumbled to nobody in particular as he shed his grey work vest.
Kozik grabbed his kutte on the workbench, and jogged out to where his bike was parked. He quickly put on his helmet and ripped out of the compound.
He hoped that Allison wasn't too far away. He was relieved when he spotted Allison's figure walking down the sidewalk. He came up to a stop sign and stayed still for a good minute to put distance between him and Allison.
Kozik then followed her until she disappeared into a room at Willie's Motel. He parked by the curb in the parking lot and stared at Allison's shut door. After much internal deliberation, he decided that he wouldn't approach Allison tonight. Instead, he would stop at the liquor store on his way home and picked up a bottle of Jim Beam. He needed smooth whiskey to silence the screaming guilt that Allison's presence had brought forth, from the catacombs of his mind.