Jeanette had—an oldie, but not a goodie. It showed a kitten hanging from a tree branch. Hang in there, baby, indeed. Most of the kitties in this place had already fallen off their branches. Some were out of their trees.

The TV news was now showing the mug shot of an escaped convict. “Oh man,” Angel said. “He put the lie to black is beautiful, don’t he?”

Jeanette did not comment. The fact was, she still liked guys with mean eyes. She was working on it with Dr. Norcross, but for the time being she was stuck with this attraction to fellows who looked like they might at any moment decide to take a wire whisk to your bare back while you were in the shower.

“McDavid’s in one of Norcross’s babysitting cells in A Wing,” Angel said.

“Where did you hear that?” Kitty McDavid was one of Jeanette’s favorite people—smart and feisty. Rumor was that Kitty had rolled with a heavy crowd on the outside, but there was no real meanness in her, except for the kind that was self-directed. She had been a deeply dedicated cutter at some point in the past; the scars were on her breasts, sides, upper thighs. And she was prone to periods of depression, although whatever meds Norcross had her on seemed to have been helping with that.

“You want all the news, you got to get in here early. I heard it from her.” Angel pointed at Maura Dunbarton, an elderly trustee who was in for life. Maura was now placing magazines from her wheelie cart on the tables, doing it with infinite care and precision. Her white hair stood out around her head in a filmy corona. Her legs were clad in heavy support hose the color of cotton candy.

“Maura!” Jeanette called—but low. Shouting in the common room was strictly verboten, except by kids on visiting days and inmates on the monthly Party Nites. “Walk this way, girlfriend!”

Maura rolled her cart slowly toward them. “Got a Seventeen,” she said. “Either of you interested?”

“I wasn’t interested when I was seventeen,” Jeanette said. “What’s up with Kitty?”

“Screaming half the night,” Maura said. “Surprised you didn’t hear her. They pulled her out of her cell, gave her a needle, and put her in A. Sleeping now.”

“Screaming what?” Angel asked. “Or just screaming?”

“Screaming that the Black Queen is coming,” Maura said. “Says she’ll be here today.”

“Aretha coming to put on a show?” Angel asked. “She’s the only black queen I know.”

Maura paid no attention. She was gazing at the blue-eyed blonde on the cover of the magazine. “Sure neither of you wants this Seventeen? There’s some nice party dresses.”

Angel said, “I don’t wear no dress like that unless I have my tiara,” and laughed.

“Has Dr. Norcross seen Kitty?” Jeanette asked.

“Not in yet,” Maura said. “I had a party dress once. Real pretty blue, poofy. My husband burned a hole in it with the iron. It was an accident. He was trying to help. No one ever taught him how to iron, though. Most men never learn. And he won’t now, that’s for sure.”