Redemption

By Livia Lang

Ace Bennet has managed to f@*k everything up. Again. A night of partying causes him to be arrested. Again. But this time it's different: he's ordered to join a work program, and if he fails he'll be sent straight to jail.

The problem?

His new temporary boss is none other than Martina Fierro.

The nerdy girl he made fun of all through high school.

The girl he wants more than anything.

The one person who might be able to save him.

And she hates his guts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Livia Lang
• Release date: Nov 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393872757

Book preview

Chapter 1

Flashing lights lit up Ace's rearview window and he slapped the steering wheel while letting out a curse. Fucking fuck!

The streets of Normanville, his hometown of ten thousand measly people, were completely deserted and he had no trouble finding a place to pull over. It was well past midnight, after all, and most of the town closed up by eight. Anyone out late at night was considered immediately suspicious and, in Ace's case, for good reason.

He pulled into the Dairy Queen parking lot, his clunker of a car groaning noisily as it came to a halt under the single working light. He turned off his music clumsily, and sat back into his seat, awaiting the inevitable.

Tap tap.

He looked over to the window, just in time for a blinding light to flash directly into his eyes.

Damn it, turn that off, he grumbled, fumbling with the window and rolling it down slowly.

The light swept over the rest of the car, taking in the pile of candy wrappers in the passenger seat, and his smelly gym clothes in the back seat. Ace could only hope that the bottle of vodka he had been drinking with his friend earlier that evening had rolled under a seat and was tucked well out of view.

Late night, Ace. The cop next to his window cut off the flashlight and leaned his weight against the side of the car. What have you been up to?

Just visiting friends. Is that against the rules, Clete?

"That is Officer Bennett to you. Don't you be getting familiar with me, boy." The cop slapped the top of the car angrily.

Ace sighed and looked up at Officer Bennett. He was a middle-aged man who still kept himself in impeccable shape, his figure no doubt as trim as it was when he graduated the academy years before. He was clean shaven, with a light sprinkling of grey visible in his closely cut brown hair. He also had a deep look of sadness etched across his face.

"I'm sorry, Officer Bennett, Ace ground out. Now, can I please go home?"

After I see your license and registration.

Oh come on! You know who I am! This is ridiculous Clet- he cut himself off when he received a stern look and quickly corrected his mistake. Officer Bennett, I mean.

I'm not here to hand out special favors. Now, I need your license and registration. You were speeding back there on the corner of Elm.

Ace was going to point out that the corner of Elm held an abandoned strip mall and didn't have any traffic even in daylight, let alone at the current hour. However, he was getting a headache and just wanted to go crash in bed sooner rather than later. And the only way to get Officer Bennett off your back was to give him what he wanted.

Fine, let me get it.

Ace pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slipped out his driver's license. Then he leaned over to the glove box. The door of it tended to stick, much like all the other doors on the car, and he had to wrench it with all his strength. When it did pop open, it caught him by surprise, sending trash and debris flying everywhere.

What's that? came the stern voice from the widow, and Ace froze.

A Ziploc baggie had sprung forward and landed in the middle of the passenger seat. Even in the dark, the bright colors of the pills were clearly visible. There were red square pills, several large white pills, and even some pink ones shaped like hearts.

I'm going to need you to step out of the car. The voice had changed from stern to icy.

Listen, I can explain. Ace moved to pick up the baggie and throw it back into the glove box.

Don't you dare touch that bag. I want you out of the car this instant, Ace. Do not push me.

Ace’s stomach sank to his knees. This wasn't how his night was supposed to go! All he wanted to do was spend some time with his friends, get a little high, and unwind after another shitty week working on the construction site. Then he was going to go home and get the first good night of sleep in days. But instead, he was stuck out here with Officer Goody Two-Shoes.

Ace unbuckled his seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle. Officer Bennett moved back and stood with arms crossed angrily over his chest, daggers coming out of his eyes. Ace looked down, avoiding the piercing gaze, and got out of the car.

As soon as he stepped out, he stumbled a bit, and had to grab the hood. While Ace had been able to keep it together while sitting down, the vodka in his system was starting to rear its ugly head.

And you've been hitting the bottle again. I can't believe this. Officer Bennett's voice was still hard, but a hint of despair flitted into view for a second, before disappearing again. Turn around and face the car. Put your hands on the roof and spread your legs. Don't say a word.

Ace did as he was told, clamping his mouth shut to try and keep the rage from coming out. Why did this always happen to him? He worked his ass off at his job, and just wanted some peace to be himself. Being high was the only thing to make him happy, so society could fuck right off, as far as he was concerned.

Officer Bennett was efficient and by the book. He searched the car, bagged the evidence, called in the arrest, and had Ace handcuffed in record time. The older man barely talked, only asking terse questions when needed. Ace merely shrugged for most of his responses, not trusting himself to speak.

Finally, the cop was ready to take Ace to the station. He put a hand on Ace's elbow and began to guide him to the cop car. He swung open the door without ceremony and pointed to the back seat.

Get in, Ace.

Ace looked into the car, and the reality of the situation hit him in the stomach. He had ridden close to the line plenty of times, and was well known around town for his recklessness. However, this was the first time he'd ever had to ride in the back of a patrol car while handcuffed. Even if the streets were deserted, he didn't like the idea of being seen like this — like a shamed loser.

I was just trying to have some fun, he mumbled, standing in front of the open door with shoulders hunched.

Fun? Driving around intoxicated? That's not fun — that's attempted murder. I can't believe you would do such a stupid thing. You've messed up before, but it's obvious now that you don't care about either your life or anyone else's. I don’t know what to do to help you. Maybe the judge can get your head on straight.

Officer Bennett grabbed his shoulder tightly and pushed down, forcing Ace to clamber into the backseat. Then the cop shut the door hard and got into the front seat.

Ace looked through the grate separating them. The weight of his current mistake was beginning to weigh on him, and he felt afraid. Dad?

Officer Bennett gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands and stared straight ahead. Don't.

But—

Don't! There is nothing more to say tonight, Ace. His father shot a quick look in the rearview mirror, his eyes mournful.

Ace hadn't seen his father look that sad since Ace’s mother had died six years before. As far as he knew, his father had only ever cried once: the day they had lowered Alice Bennett into the cold ground one winter’s morning. Ace suddenly had the feeling that his father was very close to losing a few more tears that night, and guilt stabbed him in the stomach.

Just another way I've fucked up, he said, so quietly that he barely heard it himself.

The car started and he leaned his head back on the seat to watch the small town move past the windows as they made their way to the police station. The small houses that lined Normanville's streets, relics of its mining past at the turn of the century, flitted by quickly. He knew almost every family in the town, and they knew him. Knew him as the continual disappointment of his good citizen father and his dearly departed, saintly mother.

Ace The Fuck Up. That was him, alright, and he didn't see how anything could save him from his fate.

Chapter 2

Martina woke up early in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise. It was a deeply ingrained habit at this point, and she was sometimes up even before daylight. She had a million tasks to do and only one lifetime, so as far as she was concerned every waking minute was worth utilizing.

She got dressed in the dim light, slipping a loose pair of jeans over her lean hips and a flannel shirt across her small chest, and then grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen. She didn’t normally bother with a full breakfast — there were way too many things on her to-do list to waste time eating cereal and watching cartoons in the morning.

Got a packed day today! she chirped happily to her fish, who swam around lazily looking at her from his bowl in the kitchen.

Martina was halfway down the front steps of her small three-room cottage when she remembered she hadn't brushed his hair that morning. Quickly running her fingers through the curly mop, she tried in vain to make herself at least halfway presentable. She was supposed to get a new assistant that morning, and really didn't want to run him off by looking like a swamp creature. Not when she so desperately needed help.