Julie was about 95.4 percent certain that Hilary had lost her marbles. Besides not wanting to leave the joint, she had just been released from a cell, where she had no business being in the first place. Turns out she had wrecked the place with a vicious cat-inspired temper tantrum, a couple of cuss words to put varnish on a seamen’s ship, and a spitball in the Sergeant’s eye. They obviously didn’t take that kind of thing lying down in these parts. City folk.
They’d slapped a pair of cuffs on her and tossed her in a cell so fast, Hilary couldn’t even get out two words before the jail doors clanged shut. As the guards had beheld her with threatening looks, Hilary burst out laughing like the Joker, the sound of which echoed off every cell in the block.
Then after she had pouted and calmed down, sitting on the hard cot and leaning her face in her hands, she had apparently made a friend.
“Iggy had the cell next to mine,” chuckled Hilary as she explained to her father whom she wanted to help bail out of jail. “He’s a gem. A real darling. And, Daddy dear, does he need reforming… mmm…”
Julie was of the mind that Hilary was nothing less than dangerous. Horny and dangerous.
“Only this time daughter takes over,” she declared. “It’s time I made my way in the world, just like my Daddy. Where’s Iggy?” she asked the guards like they were subject to her every whim.
Officer Jackson brought out Iggy by the elbow and unnecessarily roughed him through the door. Iggy was as complaisant as Hilary. Maybe even more. What actually went on in that jail? Julie wondered.
“Welcome to the world of free men, Iggy,” Hilary exclaimed. “My doting father is paying your tab. Aren’t you, Stacy?”
Beneath the blase exterior, Iggy was all primed for basically nothing. He asked the obvious. “Why?”