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?