Conviction (A Stand-alone Novel): A Bad Boy Romance (6 page)

Now I knew why some of the inmates longed for the oblivion of alcohol and why others were thankful they had time to dry out. The pounding continued, and I knew why many vows were made the night after drinking. I shook off the urge to declare 'never again' because I had to be honest even with myself. Instead of making an unrealistic promise, I decided to answer the pounding knock on the door.

"Man, I've been out here forever. I thought I was going to have to break the door down." Jace pushed open the door and forced his way inside. "Don't worry, I come bearing coffee and many years of hangover experience."

"How do you know I'm hung over?" I asked.

He chuckled then swept a thick arm across the top of the buried desk. Papers, party supplies, and interior design catalogs crashed to the ground. Jace set down the silver tray and poured a fresh cup of coffee from a funny shaped pot.

"I know, it’s weird. I always thought coffee only came from those little coffee makers with the dripping and the hissing. This is a French press. It takes some getting used to, but the good news is it brews a really strong cup of coffee." Jace handed me a cup.

We leaned on opposite sides of the now-clear desk. I sipped the coffee and did not even care that I almost scalded my tongue. Just the thought of caffeine eased my aching head.

"You get sick?" Jace peered into my face.

I shook my head and prayed it didn't happen right then and there.

"I'm impressed. Usually a night like you had can only end one of two ways: a fight or getting sick," Jace sighed.

"Oh, god. I tried to fight Alan, didn't I?" I asked.

"Hell, people were ready to pay to see that action. I might set it up myself. Alan's a freight train, but you were something else entirely," Jace said. "No one wanted to mess with you."

"An ass. I was an ass, wasn't I?" I drank more of the coffee and felt vaguely human again.

"An expected side effect of alcohol. By the way, you only had three drinks," Jace reminded me.

His statement sunk in, and I slumped lower on my side of the desk. "So that's what I get for three drinks? A few minutes of invincibility then the urge to fight bouncers and bodyguards, followed by a hangover?"

"Don't forget the part where Autumn had to break up the fight and lead you out of the club like a scolded child," Jace said.

I wanted to die. Maybe if I collapsed under the storage boxes no one would know I was there until it was too late. "I don't remember Autumn breaking up the fight."

"Yeah, you were pretty blurry-eyed by then," Jace said. "Cheer up, bud, you're in good company."

I eyed my friend. "You're a lightweight drinker too?" I wondered.

"No way, but I cannot do hangovers anymore. Praying to the porcelain god then fearing any light brighter than a nightlight. That's just not something I can do again. Oh man, and my body used to ache from the top of my head to the tips of my toes," Jace said.

I tamped down the throb of recognition that went through my sore body at his mention of aches. "Pain I can handle. What time is it? I gotta get going."

"Where are you off too? You can't tell me you aren't longing for aspirin and that king-sized bed. Wait, did you even sleep in the bed last night?" Jace peered around me at the neatly made bed.

"Recliner," I said. I put down the coffee and pushed the pain out of my mind. I had had beatings and bruises that hurt worse. Remembering those shut the door on the hang over, and I slipped into my clean suit coat.

"Where are you going?" Jace asked. He blocked my way through the messy office.

"I have to meet my parole officer. I gotta call a cab and--"

Jace held up one beefy hand and pulled out his phone with the other. "Good morning. Yeah. Front door, please. There. I just told the driver to pick us up. You need to visit your parole officer and I'm coming with."

"Come on, Jace. That's not a good idea," I said.

Nothing dissuaded him. At least it was the custom SUV and not a limousine. Still, I tried to jump out at a stoplight when we were blocks away from the address I was given. Alan was too fast and locked the doors before I could break free.

Every ex-convict and staff member saw me get out of that monstrosity of a car. They clocked my moves as I signed in and took a seat in the waiting room. I felt the steel seep up my spine as my old prison defenses slipped back into place. I made slow and steady eye contact with everyone in the room and made note of the ones that did not look away.

"Ayden King?" a young woman inquired.

I stood up and followed her down the narrow hall to her equally narrow office. "Hi, I'm Simone."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Nelson," I smiled, reading the name plaque on her desk.

"Please, call me Simone," she smiled back. "There's no need to be so formal."

My parole officer was in her late thirties with short curly brown hair. A dusting of freckles across her round cheeks made it easy to forget she held my future in her hands. I wished I had worn a tie.

"So staying out late last night getting drunk and then arriving in some blinged out SUV with a driver and a celebrity is not really recommended," Simone said. "You're going to want to concentrate on a simple life. Job, place to live, groceries, bank account, start paying your bills. Those are all things that are going to help make you a functional part of society again. Nightclubs and alcohol make things complicated. Stick with simple."

I nodded and smiled. I took my plastic cup to the narrow hall bathroom and peed in it. I filled out all the forms and answered all her questions.

"I get not wanting to stay in Texas," Simone said, "but Las Vegas is a very hard place to lead a simple life."

"You seem to be doing fine," I pointed out.

Simone's smile was harder to catch than hummingbird wings. "Born and raised and right on track, so not much of this applies to me. You, on the other hand, should become familiar with all the rules. For instance, you are free to leave the state as long as you notify me first."

"I'll do that."

"What I'm saying is that were you to choose to live elsewhere, somewhere other than Las Vegas, then I could help you find a parole officer there," Simone said.

"Good to know but no thanks," I shook my head.

Simone's frown was just as quick as her smile. "What I'm saying, Mr. King, is that Las Vegas is a very hard place for people who are trying to get back on track."

I leaned back in my chair and stretched my legs out as far as the narrow office would allow. "I was never off track to begin with or didn't you read my file?"

"Regardless of your charges and sentencing fifteen years ago, you are now under my parole, and I am giving you the best advice I can," Simone said.

"I found a job," I snapped. Defiance was pushing me hard. "I have a college business degree and my friend has hired me. I'll be working in business development for Knight Holdings."

Simone typed on her laptop and frowned again. "Jace Knight. That would explain the fancy SUV outside. You did hear what I said about trying to keep life simple, right?"

"Job was priority one, and I got it. Place to live is taken care of too. I'll check off every thing on your list." I stood up and took a step towards the door. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Nelson. It was nice to meet you."

"Just remember to check in, Mr. King. Good luck," she called.

I left her office door open and walked out through the waiting room without looking at anyone. Jace and Alan were leaning against the SUV and chatting when I pushed through the office doors and joined them.

"All's well?" Jace asked.

"Except for the part where she saw a celebrity dip-shit drop me off and noticed that I was hung over," I sighed.

Jace chuckled. "What's she expect after fifteen years? She read your file, right?"

I had to laugh. "That's what I said. I told her I got a job and a place to stay. Next on the list are groceries. I gotta stock that little kitchenette."

"You can play homemaker later on," Jace said. "All this talk of food has made me hungry. Get in. We're having a real lunch."

Alan pushed off the car and towered towards me. I held up both hands. "Listen, Alan, I have to apologize. Turns out never really touching a drink then doing fifteen years time has hurt my alcohol tolerance a bit. I didn't mean to get in your face."

"Hair of the dog," Alan explained. He opened the door and pointed to a tall glass of orange juice. "That, lightweight, is a screwdriver. Vodka and orange juice."

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face and climbed into the SUV. Jace smiled and handed me the drink. "Alan mixed it himself. I think he likes you."

I sipped the drink and had to admit it tasted great. By the time the SUV pulled to the curb and Alan opened the door, I was feeling better.

"Good advice. Who knew you had it in you?" I got out of the car and punched Alan on the shoulder.

He bit his cheek and curled one meat hook into a massive fist.

"Meet us at the buffet," Jace directed. He pulled me past the dancing fountains before Alan could say anything. "This, my friend, is the Bellagio."

He strode past the crowd gathered to watch the syncopated water jets. Classical music filled the large courtyard as the impressive fountains spouted and fell in rhythm. I tried not to gawk, but it was beautiful, especially considering the only fountain I had seen for over a decade had been a leaky faucet.

The white casino hotel towered above us with two curved wings stretching from a center turret. Jace knew right where he was going and I was glad because when we stepped inside, the enormity of the place swallowed me. Besides the flashing and jingling games, there were tourists everywhere. We skirted around them and skipped the line at the buffet.

"Mr. Knight, so good to see you," the manager said.

Jace thanked him and took a plate right away. I followed suit and my eyes bulged at the long overabundance that was the buffet. There was every food imaginable and between Jace and I, we got four trays with a plate of everything.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," Jace chortled. He sat down in a large booth and tucked a napkin in his collar.

"This counts as groceries, right?" I asked. "I'm on track."

* * * * *

Autumn arrived at our table sometime after the third trip through the buffet. "You two are causing a scene, you know that, right?”

Jace carefully tore open a wet wipe and polished the barbecue off his fingers. "There is nothing wrong with two grown men enjoying a bountiful lunch."

"My parole officer would approve. You should too," I said.

"Stuffing your face is part of your parole?" Autumn inquired.

Jace chuckled and patted the booth seat next to him. "You sure you don't want to grab a plate?"

"And put it where?" The buffet staff had tried to keep up, but there was a mountain of dirty dishes in the middle of the table. She refused to sit down.

"Fine, alright. Down to business," Jace said. "You are to take Ayden shopping for clothes, buy something for yourself, and then spend some time in the poolside cabana I rented here."

"Really? That's my 'work' for the day?" Autumn asked. She perched a fist on her hip. "No offense, but there are hundreds of things I need to get done."

"And you need to let me set your priorities," Jace said. "I would think getting his pale ass a tan would be high priority. His parole officer said he had to assimilate, and no one can do that in Vegas without a tan."

I pulled myself out of the booth. "I'm with Autumn. I don't think trying on clothes is the best idea right now. Besides, I haven't earned a paycheck yet."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I'll keep the receipts and garnish your wages. It’s your money."

Jace clapped me on the shoulder. "Let's set a business meeting for later this afternoon. I'll have my assistant contact you."

"Very funny," Autumn said, but she did smile as Jace kissed the top of her head. "Alright, I know a good men's store here."

"In the Bellagio? It’s my money, remember?"

"And on behalf of Knight Holdings, I am going to make sure your wardrobe fits the company dress policy."

I followed her towards the shops in the Bellagio. "There's a dress policy? Is that why you're so buttoned up all the time?"

"Buttoned up?" Autumn repeated. She looked down at her fitted coral dress and buff heels.

"You know, conservative. Is that how I'm going to come out?" I shied away from the entrance to the store.

She grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. Inside the doorway, we bumped into a thin man in a tan suit. He had tight curly hair and round wire-rim glasses that he pushed up when he caught sight of Autumn.

"Robbie?" she gaped. "Nice to see you."

"Autumn, you're back from your trip. I thought you might call," Robbie said.

"Sorry, it’s work. You know how it is," Autumn said. She pulled out her phone and made a show of answering a non-existent text from Jace. "Nice running into you."

I followed her to the back of the store. "Please tell me you did not date him."

"Only a few dates, a lunch and then drinks," she said.

"So, that's your type?"

Autumn scowled. "What's wrong with that? I like a man who is put together, has a career, is working towards a goal, financially solvent, owns a house. None of these are crazy things to want in a man."

"Buttoned up. That's all I'm saying," I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I don't have time for loose or liberal or the opposite of him. I barely have time to go home to my own apartment much less let some casual fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants guy take me out on a spontaneous date," she frowned.

"But if you did have the time," I said.

"I don't. Just like we don't have time for this conversation. You need to gather up all your, ah, essentials. I'll pick out a few possible suits," Autumn turned on her heel.

"And please, god, no orange," I said.

She laughed and brought back an impressive selection as well as two store employees. Between the three of them, I was able to choose a basic wardrobe. As hard as Autumn tried to distract me, I chose one multi-functional suit, three shirts, three ties, and a pair of black dress shoes.