The World According to Vince - A romantic comedy (Gym or Chocolate Book 2)

by Stuart Reardon

‘The Tombs’ was what New Yorkers named the towering, gray Manhattan Detention Complex, a building so depressing that it could have been designed during the Soviet era.

  Considering it was now nearly three in the morning, it was surprisingly busy. The entrance teemed with law officers in their navy-blue uniforms, all armed, all with the look on their faces that they’d seen it all, experienced every aspect of humanity and society’s failings. I wasn’t sure where Vince fit into that.

  I presented myself to the Desk Sergeant who was polite and efficient, and handed me Vince’s charge sheet which I read with disbelief as my eyes grew wider.

  I glanced up at the Desk Sergeant who was obviously holding onto a smile. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. My eyebrows had already scaled the heights and were approaching lift-off.

  I sat down heavily on one of the plastic visitor seats, sweating as I peeled off layers one at a time, until I was taken to meet my ‘client’ in an airless, windowless room, furnished with a table and two chairs bolted to the floor.

  Vince swaggered into the room escorted by a woman police officer whose happy demeanor and flirty smile seemed at odds with the whole, bizarre situation.

  The other surprising thing was that Vince wore a well-cut suit and crisp white shirt, both of which were now covered in dog hair and paw marks.

  “Gracie!” shouted Vince, crushing me in a huge bear-hug. “You came!”

  “Good luck with that one!” laughed the police officer, and she left the room, shaking her head.

  “Hmpfh!” I groaned in a muffled voice, trying to free myself from Vince’s iron grip. “Put me down! Now!”

  I’d learned that Vince responded best if you spoke to him like his dogs—with clear commands in short sentences.

  He beamed at me. “You look nice. Your cheeks are all pink—it suits you.”

  I ignored his comment, grit my teeth, then pulled out a notepad and pencil from my briefcase.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  Vince

  She’d come! Gracie had come! I couldn’t believe me fookin’ luck! I’d been certain she’d have phoned Rick and sent him instead. He was me best mate, but he weren’t no lawyer. And I’d got meself in a right pile of shite this time. Even with a couple of sexy birds arresting me, I hadn’t been able to talk my way out of this one.

  But there she sat, in the middle of the night, cool as a cucumber, her soft hazel eyes trying to look annoyed. But she wasn’t fooling me.

  Grace cared. I knew that she tried very hard to hide that fact at the firm of sharks where she worked, but she couldn’t hide it from her friends.

  I reached across the table and held her hand.

  “How are me dogs?”

  She gave a small, reluctant smile as she tugged her hand free.

  “Well, they’d all been very good—no accidents—but they were busting to go out. Tap came straight back in, but Zeus and Tyson had a good snuffle around outside. I, um, gave them a Milk-Bone each, I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t sure if they had allergies or anything. And I refilled the water bowl.”

  She looked so worried and anxious that I wanted to kiss a smile right back onto her pretty lips, but I knew that would just earn me a slap—which wouldn’t be the first time. No one kissed Gracie without her permission.

  “They’re good dogs,” I nodded. “How was Tap?”

  All three were rescue dogs and I loved them, but Tap was special. I’d found her wandering around a building site when I’d been on a photoshoot in Dubai. Her back left leg had a huge, manky cut and I could tell that she was in a lot of pain. So I’d tempted her out with a few veggie crisps and took her to a local vet. He couldn’t save the leg and it took me four months to sort the paperwork to bring her home. She got nervous if I left her alone too long, but had the sweetest temperament. She liked to tap me with her front paw when she wanted a cuddle, which is how she got her name from. She was my special girl.

  Gracie’s smile faded. “Tap was more anxious than the others. I felt really bad leaving her again. But I’ll drop in on my way to work in the morning and feed them—just tell me what they eat.”

  I gave her a puzzled look. “That’s alright, Gracie, I’ll do that meself.”

  She gave her trademark irritated stare.

  “Vincent,” she said slowly and clearly like I was five years old. “Vincent, you’ve been charged with two felonies—there’s a very real chance that the prosecutor will push for prison time. The only place you’ll be going right now is to your arraignment, and they might not even post bail because you’re a Brit and potentially a flight risk. At the very least, you’ll have to surrender your passport.”

  I leaned back in my chair, frowning. “So, the police are a bit upset with me?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Yes, Vincent. The police are upset with you. So is the director of the animal shelter.” She glared at me and tapped her pencil against her blank notepad. “Now then, just so tonight isn’t a complete waste of my time, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened when you left your apartment this evening? Don’t leave out anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her lips thinned in irritation. It was kind of weird how much she turned me on when she did that.

  “Right,” I said, adjusting my pants as my trouser-snake sat up and took notice of Grace’s sweet face and glorious little titties.

  “Stop staring at my chest!” she said crossly.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s force of habit.”

  She rubbed her forehead again. I hoped she didn’t have a headache.

  “What time did you leave your condo?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  She sighed and stared at the ceiling, before scratching a note on her legal pad. “And where did you go?”

  “I was meeting this woman off Tinder at her hotel about 8.30pm. So we chatted for a bit, had a few drinks, did the business—twice—I had a quick shower and left.”

  Grace stabbed at her notepad, leaving black squiggles all over it. Maybe lawyers were like doctors with their terrible handwriting.

  “What time did you leave the hotel?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You had sex twice and left the hotel half-an-hour after you arrived? Can anyone confirm that?”

  I grinned at her. “Roxy could confirm it—she was counting her orgasms. Had to use both hands. To count, I mean.”

  Grace tapped the pencil on the table in a fast, annoyed rhythm.

  “And I mean, can anyone other than Roxy confirm what time you left the hotel?”

  “Oh right, yeah. I asked the doorman about vegan restaurants in the area and he suggested a couple so I tipped him a twenty. He’ll remember me.”

  She made a note of that, too, then looked up.

  “And when you left the hotel, where did you go next?”

  “Well, I was starving so I was going to check out one of the places the bloke at the hotel suggested, but I never got there.”

  “Why was that?”

  The anger reared up inside me again as I remembered what happened next.

  “I was walking past this building and I could hear dogs barking, like really crying and upset. Turned out the place was an animal shelter but it’s not staffed at night. There was a notice on the door saying that they needed to re-home five of the dogs or they were going to be euthanized in 72 hours! That’s the fookin’ word they used, euthanized, like it wasn’t really murder. And all I could think was that those dogs needed to be saved! So I legged it over the wall, kicked open the door and started letting them out of their cages. That’s when the cops turned up.”

  Grace stared at me, then looked down at my charge sheet.

  “It says here that you’d gotten leashes on five of the dogs and had six puppies stuffed in the pockets of your jacket.”

  “They were cold,” I said, leaning forward. “They were only little bugs, too small to put on leads.”

  Grace’s lips moved like
she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Finally, she sighed.

  “Vincent, what were you going to do with eleven adult dogs and six puppies?”

  “Take them home with me,” I grinned at her.

  She blinked several times. “And then what?”

  “Ah, well, I hadn’t quite worked out that part, but I’m sure I could have re-homed them. Everyone loves dogs, right? Every family should have one—you can learn a lot from animals.”

  She shook her head but I didn’t think she was disagreeing with me.

  “Did you have any intention of selling them?”

  “Course not!” I said, somewhat insulted. “I just wanted them to have a proper home, not live their lives in cages. It’s not right—they haven’t done anything wrong.” I had to swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s not their fault they got born at the wrong time in the wrong place.”

  Grace’s eyes glistened.

  “So, shall I tell the Judge that and he’ll let me go?” I asked.

  Grace sighed again. “Oh, Vincent,” she said.

  “That’s me name, don’t wear it out!” I grinned.

  Grace didn’t smile. I wished she would—she had a smashing smile.

  “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be brought before a magistrate judge for an initial hearing. I’ll be there as your attorney, God help me. This is the arraignment and it’s when the judge decides if you’ll be held in prison or released on bail. You’ll also be asked to plead guilty or not guilty to the charges. I suggest, given the evidence, that you plead guilty to burglary and not guilty to larceny. The judge will post bail—we hope—and you walk out of there. The prosecutor won’t want his or her time tied up in court on this, so we’ll try to get it all down to plea bargaining. That means I try to persuade him or her of a lesser sentence, like a fine or court-ordered community service.”

  I frowned, trying to follow what she was telling me. “So, I can go home after I meet the judge tomorrow morning?”

  “Let’s hope so. Just stick to the facts … and Vincent, try to say as little as possible.”

  “Maybe the judge is a dog-lover?” I said hopefully. “He’ll be on my side!”

  “The judge is on the side of the law,” she said severely. “Now, let’s talk money. Bail could be between $5,000 and say $10,000, but maybe less if the judge is an animal-lover,” and she smirked at me when she said that. “And you should know that I bill at $750 an hour.”

  I grinned at her. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good for you! That’s fookin’ fab!”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Her eyebrows rocketed. “You expect me to do this pro bono?”

  “What’s the singer of U2 got to do with it?”

  “Pro bono, not Bono! It means ‘for free’.

  “Cheers! You’re a love.”

  “Wait! That was a question!” She stared at me. “Oh, never mind.”

  I winked.

  “And how are you going to post bail?” she asked faintly.

  “Could you phone Rick for me? He’ll see me right.”

  She nodded and scratched a note in her teeny tiny spidery writing.

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asked tiredly.

  “I didn’t have any supper,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint. “I’m so hungry, if I weren’t vegan, I’d probably chew off me own leg.”

  She gave a short, stiff nod. “I think the vending machine has chips and crackers; maybe some fruit.”

  “Cheers!” I grinned at her. “Lots, please! Don’t forget I’m a growing lad.”

  She stuffed her notebook back in her briefcase like she was trying to choke it.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “And behave!”

  I leaned back in the hard chair and winked at her, smiling as she huffed impatiently and told the copper outside that she was done.

  I was taken back to the grotty cell, but a few minutes later a carrier bag full of crisps, crackers, apples, oranges and a jar of peanut butter was delivered to me.

  I tucked in hungrily, scoffing it all down then wondering if I should have saved something for breakfast. The police in this place were pretty decent, although so far they hadn’t been able to find me anything vegan to eat. But my Gracie, she’d come through for me.

  I wished again that she was my Gracie, even though she was completely out of my league. Then a thought occurred to me: I was fairly confident that given enough time, she’d succumb to my lad-about-town charms. But in the nine months since I’d first met her, she’d avoided me as much as possible, which was strange. Birds usually flocked to the call of a mating Vince.

  Maybe all I needed to do was stuff up the court case enough so that she’d have to spend more time with me; but not stuff it up so much that I spent any more time in clink.

  Whatever Gracie thought of me right now, I knew that she’d never abandon a friend in need. And even though I was Rick’s friend rather than her friend or Cady’s friend, I still qualified for the title. Rick and me were best mates; Cady was cool; and Grace? Well, she was fook hot.

  Grace

  I lay on my bed with my eyes wide open. No matter how much I tried to force myself to sleep (which never works, as insomniacs all around the world know only too well), I couldn’t make my body relax or my brain stop whirring.

  My job with Kryll Group was 99% office lawyer: it was rare that cases went to court and when they did, I was never lead counsel. The partners took those cases and I definitely wasn’t considered to be a trial lawyer. I’d always wondered if they were right. But more importantly given the current context, I’d never defended a criminal case in my life and never expected to. I was fairly confident I knew enough to help the giant knob-head who’d gotten himself into this mess, but twinges of self-doubt had me shooting upright and making notes on the pad by my bedside table instead of sleeping.

  In the end, I gave up the fight and staggered out of bed. I prepared in my usual methodical way, checking and re-checking facts, statutes and precedents on one of the several legal databases that I had access to. It was unlikely that I’d need that level of detail at an arraignment but I couldn’t not prepare to the nth degree—that was the way I was wired.

  I sat at my small breakfast bar, staring out at the snow swirling against the grainy darkness of the night. It was too wet to settle, but it was going to be a cold and cheerless day. As I waited for the thin light of morning to filter through my tenth floor window, I’d already left a message with my personal assistant, Gary, to let him know that I was taking the morning off for personal time but to pick up my lunchtime deli sandwich as usual, please.

  The American Bar Association recommended that all lawyers offer 50 hours pro bono each year, and it had been made a requirement of any new lawyers who wanted to be admitted to the ABA. It looked like I’d be getting my hours in early this year.

  By 5.30am, I decided that Rick needed to share in my misery. Anyway, Cady would have left for work an hour ago and would be starting her breakfast show shortly. It was 50/50 whether Rick would have gone back to bed or gone to the gym.

  I called his cell phone and his grumpy voice was slightly breathless when he answered. I guessed he was on a treadmill, and shuddered at the thought. I took a hot yoga class once a week to de-stress, but treadmills, gyms and weights were anathema to me; and even though Rick had gifted me a lifetime membership to his gym, hot yoga had been the only class that could tempt me. This was New York in January, and when Rick had said the word ‘hot’, he’d said enough.

  “Grace, you alright, luv?”

  “Just peachy, Rick. It’s your knob-head friend who’s in trouble.”

  I heard Rick groan. “What’s the idiot done now?”

  “Only gotten himself arrested.”

  “What?!”

  “Two felonies and an arraignment in five hours. He broke into an animal shelte
r and tried to dognap all the inmates. He had six puppies stuffed in his jacket pockets when the police caught him. He says you’ll post bail.”

  For a moment there was silence and I checked that the call hadn’t dropped.

  “Rick? Hello?”

  “Sorry … I just … bloody hell! He did what?! I can’t believe he’d be so stup— actually, I can. That soppy bugger. Okay, what do you need me to do?”

  “The arraignment will be at the New York City Criminal Court on Center Street. Can you be there by ten? We might have to wait around until they call Vince’s case and I don’t know how long that will be. Bring your credit card.”

  “Crap! Yeah, okay. Um, how much do you think bail will be, Grace? I’m happy—sort of—to pay it, but what with the wedding and all, funds are a bit tight.”

  I held back a sigh. No one was getting out of this unscathed.

  “I honestly don’t know, Rick, but the figure I have in my head is $5,000. It could be less, it could be more. But just tell me this: he says he’s never been arrested for anything before—is he telling me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Because if I find out he’s been economical with the aforesaid truth…”

  “Nah, you’re alright there, Grace. He doesn’t even have a parking ticket. The tight bugger doesn’t own a car and walks everywhere.”

  “Good, that helps. The judge will be more lenient on a first offense.” I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Okay, I’ll see you at ten.”

  We said goodbye and I felt a small weight lift. Knowing that Rick would be there to support me in all his formidable sternness was a relief.

  Rick tended to overthink everything which made him the complete opposite of Vince, and of Cady, too, for that matter. If anything, Cady and Vince seemed like a better fit from an outsider’s point of view as both had a free-wheeling attitude to life. Rick and I were the thinkers and planners. But maybe opposites attract. Although not in my case. Not the knob-head.

  I dressed in my favorite charcoal gray pantsuit with cerise silk blouse. I always felt confident in that outfit: powerful and feminine. I dropped a pair of pumps into my briefcase and pulled on my comfortable Uggs, thick coat, scarf, gloves and woollen beanie.