Before We Fall

Chapter Five

Dominic

Well, this is new. I’ve never been in a courtroom before.

That’s not exactly true. I did sit in a seat like this when I was in the movie Annihilated. I played a sadistic serial killer/rapist, so I’ve seen the inside of a courtroom. Just never in real life. I’ve never sat and waited to be judged, waited for my fate to be decided by someone else.

Not for real.

It turns out, real life is fucking frustrating.

I sigh heavily and turn to the lawyer closest to me. Like the three sitting around him, he’s buttoned up in a white shirt and dark suit, wearing a shrewd, businesslike expression. My manager hired them, a whole team of legal sharks. If these guys can’t get me out of this, no one can.

“How long is this going to take?” I ask the head lawyer. Tom, I think his name is. He glances at me.

“However long the judge wants it to take,” he answers wryly. “Just sit back and relax. You’re going to be fine. You’re lucky that Mr. Evans is refusing to press charges against you, or you’d be here for assault as well as drug charges.”

I slump into my chair, impatient, and kill time by watching the blond chick standing in front of me. Jacey.

The girl who may or may not have gotten me arrested for drugs.

I watch her tear-streaked face and the way she so sincerely pleads her case with the judge. I almost think that the drugs really weren’t hers. But if they weren’t hers, I don’t know whose they were. They sure as fuck weren’t mine.

She turns away from me once again, and my eyes sweep over her from top to bottom.

She’s got a tight ass, I’ll give her that, barely concealed in a short skirt. My brother would say that she’s got an ass like an onion, hot enough to make him cry. As for me, I can just imagine burying my dick in it, pressing my face to her shoulder blades, reaching around her and…

I stop myself, shaking the random fantasy out of my head.

This isn’t the time or the place. I turn back to my lawyer. “Did you get those assault charges dropped for her?”

He stares at me. “Yeah. I pulled a couple of strings. She’s only being charged with possession of marijuana now, like you. I don’t know why you care though. It’s probably her pot to begin with.”

I don’t know why I care, either. Other than the fact that she didn’t even know me, but she jumped in the middle of a brawl and tried to stop it. And afterward, she had stood with her little body in front of mine, almost as if she was shielding me from Cris… even though I’d accidentally clocked her in the face.

Why had she done that?

I don’t fucking know. But I feel a little responsible that she was even there. Even if it was her pot, she wouldn’t have been there in the first place if it hadn’t been for me. And I can’t help but think back to the look on her face when I walked past her in her jail cell as she sat there covered in my blood.

She looked utterly vulnerable in a jail cell full of hookers. That’s when I called my attorney and had him get her assault charges dropped. If I hadn’t done that, she’d have been there all night.

Oblivious to my musings about her, she stands in front of the judge now, giving him a sob story about how she’s trying to pull her life together or some shit. But the judge doesn’t even blink, he just stares down at her sternly from his perch above.

“Young lady, you do need to grow up. And I know that some judges like to give pretty little things like you a break. But I’m not in the business of being an enabler. So, you should learn right here and now that this kind of thing isn’t a trivial matter.” The judge pauses to stare down at her sternly.

“I’m finding you guilty of possession of marijuana. I’m sentencing you to ninety days’ community service at a local youth center and six months of probation. Learn from this, young lady. I don’t want to see you here again. If you perform every bit of your community service as ordered, I will think about expunging this from your record. My bailiff will give you the details.”

Jacey turns around with tear-streaked cheeks, and I suck in a breath over her sentence. My lawyer shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. She must’ve rubbed him wrong. You’ll be fine. She’s got a second-rate attorney who can’t argue shit. You’ve got me.”

Unfortunately, as I stand in front of the judge a few minutes later, I can see that having four attorneys isn’t going to do me any good. In fact, it might just have the opposite effect. The judge’s eyes glitter as he stares at my legal team.

“So, son. You think you can come to Chicago and do illegal drugs, then just hire a team of lawyers to get away with it?”

“No, sir—” I start to argue, but he doesn’t give me the chance. He holds up his hand.

“Uh, uh. I don’t want to hear it. I find you guilty of marijuana possession and I sentence you to ninety days of community service and six months of probation. I realize that you live in California, but you will remain here in Chicago until your community service has been served.”

Before I can even say a word, my attorney sputters.

“Objection!” he protests. “My client has obligations in California. He has a new film hitting production next week. In order to work and support himself, he must return to California. Can’t he serve his community service there?”

The judge looks at us drolly. “Are you telling me that your client is on the verge of destitution if he can’t return to California? I find that hard to believe, and if that is the case, I of course would need to see some verification of that.”

My attorney backpedals. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that that this is his first offense and he deserves some leniency. If he’s not allowed to return home, it will drastically affect the production schedule of his next film, which will have negative ramifications for my client.”

The judge smiles now, a humorless grin. “That, counselor, is not my problem. It should serve to teach your client a lesson. The sentence stands. The crime was committed here, the sentence will be served here. If he serves it out in complete compliance, it will be expunged from his record. The bailiff will have the details.”

I’m stunned as I sit staring at my hands. Did that really just happen? I’m stuck in Chicago for three months? And I have a criminal record now? Holy shit. I glare at my high-priced lawyer.

“So, apparently, you’re a second-rate attorney who can’t argue shit, either.”

I ignore his protests and push away from the table, following the bailiff to learn the details of my sentence. Before the bailiff ducks into a room, he waves me toward Jacey, who is sitting on a bench in the hall. I join her, and together we sit and wait. She’s not crying anymore, but she seems just as distraught.

“Can you believe this?” she moans as she drops her head into her hands. “Oh my god. This is crazy. If you would just tell them the pot was yours, this would all go away. You’re the freaking movie star. I’m sure you’re quite accustomed to making things disappear.”

I stare at her mulishly. “Yeah, things like your assault charges?”

Bright red flashes across Jacey’s cheeks and she looks away.

“Thank you,” she finally answers reluctantly. “I don’t know why you did that, but thank you.”

As she speaks, something crosses her face and she turns to me sharply.

“Oh my god. You got those charges dropped because you felt bad about framing me for this, didn’t you? You can’t have this kind of publicity, so you made it look like the drugs were mine. But you’re not totally soulless, so you made my assault charges go away to make up for it. Oh. My. God.”

She stares at me with her ridiculous thoughts swimming in her eyes, and I shake my head in annoyance.

“Fuck that,” I snap. “The drugs weren’t mine. Period. I got your charges dropped because I felt like it.”

I look away from her pointedly, dismissing her. Instead, I concentrate on the bustling people in the hall, including a hulking blond guy hovering nearby. Jacey’s boyfriend, probably. He’s exactly the kind of guy I would picture her with: a meathead who mindlessly follows her around like a puppy. It makes total sense. She definitely seems like the kind of girl who wants someone who will just bow to her wishes. I sniff in disdain, then close my eyes.

I get two minutes of peace until my phone rings and my manager’s name pops up. I know he’s been anxiously waiting to hear what happened here, probably tapping his expensive Italian leather loafer against his marble office floor.

Yeah, he’s just that ostentatious. Ridiculously so. In addition, he drives a Ferrari, bright yellow for maximum impact. I always tell him his dick must be microscopic for him to need that much attention.

I answer the phone now with a sigh, not relishing this conversation. “Hey, Tally.”

“What’s the verdict?” Tally doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“I’m stuck in Chicago for three months,” I tell him. “Community service. Then six months probation. If I’m a good boy, my record will be wiped clean.”

Tally erupts into a string of swear words that would make any sailor or truck driver cringe. I hold the phone away from my ear until he’s finished.

Finally, he takes a deep breath, calming himself somewhat.

“Fuck. This is bullshit, Dominic. The studio is going to be furious. Not only is this going to fuck with the schedule, they hired you in part based on your reputation. You aren’t a troublemaker. You’re a mysterious, sexy star. You keep things private, which keeps people guessing about you. This… this fucks with that. Everyone is going to assume that you’re an addict now, and that’s not the image that we’re trying to convey. I’ve got your publicists already on it, trying to spin it for you. But be prepared. News of this has already hit the web.

“Also, you’ve got to see if you can at least come home on the weekends. Maybe they can work in some scenes then. Find out if that’s a possibility and then call me back. I’ll hold off calling the studio until I hear from you.”

I don’t bother pointing out that the studio won’t be happy about going over budget by working the crew on weekend hours. He knows that. He hangs up without another word, and I let my head fall against the wall behind me as I stare at the ceiling.

I can feel Jacey looking at me.

“Will you get fired?” she asks hesitantly. I sigh.

“Maybe you should’ve worried about that before you brought pot into my car.”

I stare at her, hard, and she doesn’t flinch.

“It wasn’t mine,” she answers coldly, then she turns her face away and doesn’t say another word. I almost believe her. To be fair, it’s hard to know who might’ve gotten into my car. With all of the people in and out of Sin’s house, it could’ve been anyone.

The bailiff emerges finally and approaches us with a handful of papers.

“You’ll both be serving your community service at Joe’s Gladiators, a youth center here in the city. Joe Hudson will be your supervisor. He’s the owner of the place. Every week, he has to sign one of these for you.”

The bailiff hands us each a bright yellow paper.

“It’s like a report card. Joe will fill it out and sign it. If you fail to appear for work, if you do a bad job, if you don’t do what is asked of you… in fact, if you sneeze wrong, Joe can refuse to sign it. It’s in your best interest to keep him happy. Judge Kumarowski doesn’t fool around, and if you have to reappear, he won’t be lenient. On the other hand, if you do exceptionally well, he’ll reward you for your good behavior by expunging this charge from your permanent record and removing your six months’ probation period.”

The bailiff stares at us both firmly. “Any questions?”

Jacey shakes her head, but I hold up a finger. “Will it be possible for me to go home on the weekends to work?”

The bailiff scribbles something on his paper. “I’ll check with the judge and get back to you. It’ll probably be fine. Anything else?”

Jacey and I shake our heads.

“Good. You’re free to go. You should both report to Joe’s by ten A.M. on Monday.”

I feel like I have an instant steel manacle snapped to my ankle. Someone to check in with, report to, and, most important, someone to keep me in Chicago.

Fuck.

The hulking blond guy descends upon Jacey, patting her shoulder, and I push away from the wall and head down the hall. I can feel Jacey’s stare beating into my shoulder blades, but I ignore it. She should be paying attention to her boyfriend, not me. But like every other woman out there, she’s attracted to me because of who I am.

God, I hate that shit. For a brief moment, I remember the way she’d looked at me from her jail cell… so soft and trusting and open. Like she was oblivious to my name and it was just her and me standing there.

But that was a lie. She knows full well who I am, and that’s what she’s attracted to. She’s no different from anyone else.

With a sigh I make my way down the dingy stairs, and as I glance outside I see the reporters waiting. I stand still for a second, dreading this, but there’s no way around it.

I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt and duck outside.

They descend like vultures, with their microphones shoved in my face, their flashbulbs popping, and their cameras rolling.

Is it true that you’ve got a drug problem, Dominic?

Are you going to rehab?

Who’s the blond girl, Dominic? Is she your girlfriend?

How will this affect your upcoming film?

I ignore them all, shoving through the crowd, and for a minute I regret not bringing security with me. What the hell was I thinking?

My security detail is back home in Hollywood, but Sin had offered me his… and I’d turned him down. I just wanted to get in and out of here today with as little fuss as possible. It’s why I told Sin and Duncan not to come. It’s bad enough if one of us goes somewhere. But if we go together, the circus around us is ridiculous.

I duck into the crowded sidewalk and lose myself in the people, jogging down the street until I can no longer hear the snaps of the cameras and the chattering reporters. It takes a while, but finally I find myself alone in the quiet solitude of a Chicago alleyway.

I slump against the grimy wall, staring around at the trash, the graffiti, the grayness of the city. Even in the midst of spring, downtown Chicago seems dismal and gray. It might be home, but quite honestly, I would rather be anywhere but here.

I take a deep breath of city smells and then release it.

I’m here now. I’ll be here for the next three months. I can’t control that so there’s only one thing to do.

Suck it up.

As I lay sprawled in a chair in Sin’s theater room, I make a gun out of my fingers and point it at my head as my mother lectures into my ear. It had taken exactly two hours for her to see the courthouse footage online. Why didn’t you wear a tie? Why must you wear those horrible hoodies?

From across the room, Sin laughs as he flips through channels on the behemoth TV hanging in front of us. He’s dressed only in a pair of tattered jeans that look like he slept in them. Once again, he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Dominic James Kinkaide.” My mother sighs into my ear. “I can’t believe you have a criminal record. I honestly can’t. Your father is going to be so upset.”

“Oh, Dad is going to be upset?” I ask, my lip twitching. “Not you at all, right? It’s all Dad?”

It’s a joke in our family. My mother always blames everything on my father. Things worry him sick, he loses sleep over us, etc. It’s all him, not her. It’s funny, because he’s the most laid-back person I know. Dad has been a producer in the music industry since before I was born. He’s got nerves of steel. To blame all the worry on him is asinine, but none of us kids ever call her on it.

Mom sighs. “What are you going to do? You can’t stay with Sin. The two of you will just get into even more trouble. You’d better come home. I’ll get your room ready for you here.”

I think of my childhood home, Castle Kinkaide, a large replica of a Scottish castle perched in the middle of ten acres right outside of Chicago. It’s quirky and original, just like my family. And while I love my childhood home and my family, having my mom in my business or listening to Fiona lecture me about Cris for the next ninety days isn’t gonna happen.

“Thanks for the offer, Mom. But I’m good here. I might even rent my own condo if Sin doesn’t start wearing clothes. We’ll see. But everything will be fine. Don’t worry. And tell Dad not to worry.”

Sin snorts. “Is Dad worried sick?” He cracks up and my mom sighs.

“Sinclair Alec Kinkaide,” she snaps, even though my brother can’t hear her. “That’s enough out of you.”

I waggle my eyebrows at Sin, before I return my attention to mom.

“I love you, Mom. I’ll come out and see you soon.”

I hang up and sink glumly into the leather cushions of the chair.

“Cheer up,” Sin chirps. “I’ll put one of your movies on to make you feel better.”

I roll my eyes because he knows I hate to watch my own movies. “You’re way too happy about my current set of circumstances.”

He grins. “I’m just happy to not be the only Kinkaide with a record. Thanks for that. Mom can split her lectures between the two of us now.”

“Glad to be of help,” I mutter. “And at least I kept my crime spree on US soil. I’m pretty sure you’re banned from the Netherlands.”

Sin rolls his eyes, but then his expression suddenly changes.

“Did you talk to Fiona?” he asks, somewhat hesitantly. “Or just Mom?”

I clench my jaw. “No, I didn’t fucking talk to Fiona. It’s bullshit that she’s dating Cris. And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it. You let me fucking find out on my own.”

Sin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dom. I didn’t realize that they were coming to the party or I would’ve told you. They didn’t know you were in town. But dude, Cris has changed. I don’t know what he did to piss you off so fucking much, but the guy’s changed a lot since you graduated high school. You should at least talk to him. Six years is a long time, bro. A lot can happen.”

“Yeah?” I arch an eyebrow. “People don’t change. Not really. They can pretend, they can move on, they can do lots of shit, but to actually reach down into their soul and change the person they are? That’s impossible. And Cris has a black fucking soul. Fiona shouldn’t be with him.”

I tap my phone against my leg in agitation, staring at Sin. He stares back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude. You can’t control her, she’s as stubborn as you are. But that trait comes in handy now that she’s working for the band. She’ll be the best manager we ever had.”

I scowl. “Which doesn’t do me one bit of good. Unless, as her boss, you can send her to LA or something while I’m here?”

Sin shakes his head with a grin. “Sorry, dude. I need her here. She’s working with Tally to put together our next tour. Besides, with her here and you here, maybe you can hash all of this out once and for all. Plus, as an added bonus, you’ll get to hear all of the details from Duncan’s love life. Trust me, it’s not boring.”

“Jesus.” I roll my eyes. “This is why I don’t come back all that often. It’s always like a fucking soap opera in this family.”

Sin shakes his head, turning his head back to the television.

“Welcome home, bro.”