White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 15

Eye Shade

"You tell me I am not allowed to talk to my friend?" Neal heard Ben say to his parole officer.

"Not when your friend has a record and shows up at your job."

"I wasn't doing anything wrong," Ben claimed.

"If you're gonna violate your terms, at least have the decency to do it in private."

"Whatever, man. We done here?"

"Think of this as a chance to enjoy my company twice a week instead of just once." Neal grinned at the parole officer's answer. Not that he had that much experience, but he knew it was not a great idea to be cocky in Ben's shoes.

"Two dates a week?" Ben sighed. "I'll have to take you ring shopping soon."

Ben rose from his chair, and Neal slipped inside the empty office next door, leaving the door ajar as was customary.

"No, I can't come back tomorrow," he barked. "How am I supposed to keep a job when you keep dragging my ass down here all the time?" Neal noted at the corner of his eye that Ben had stopped outside in the corridor. "Don't look at me like — You know what? Call my supervisor, okay? He's gonna fire me." As he had no one to talk to, he could not keep up with this for long. "W— you got nothing to say to that?" Ben moved on down the corridor. "All right, you know what? See you later." He left the room and joined Ben. He had dressed the same way, casual, cheep, like he had to use what he had no matter how worn and washed out. No matter how environmentally friendly that attitude was, he missed his suits.

"The screws on the outside are worse than the screws on the inside," he said to Ben with a sigh.

"Yeah. You got that right."

Neal glanced over his shoulder as to see if any of their parole officers were looking. They were not supposed to make friends with other criminals.

"Nick Halden," Neal introduced himself, not shaking hands to keep it off the record, so to speak.

"Ben Ryan," he answered in the same low-profile way. However, he kept his focus on his phone. Neal needed a little more than that.

"You know where to get a drink around here, Ben?"

"I was just headed over to my buddy's place. You want to take a walk?"

"I'm not supposed to be palling around with ex-cons."

"Yeah, me either. If I had a dime for everything I wasn't supposed to do..."

"I'd call it a steady gig," Neal grinned. Rule number one to spot you're being conned: if you feel overly comfortable with a person you never met before, there's probably a reason.

"You like strip joints?" Ben asked. Neal almost stopped in his tracks. But as when one doing the con, all he could do was playing along.

"Sure. I'm not dating at the moment."

"What's that got to do with it?" Ben smiled.

"Nothing. It's just looking, right?"

"Right."

They walked a few blocks, keeping the conversation neutral, but Neal gave slight hints of his experiences. Then Ben entered a place called Stardust, and Neal followed. He stared at the women dancing between the two rows of tables. And considering there were men in suits, the place was not cheap.

"Listen, I'm not real flush at the moment, so..."

"Hey, relax," Ben said. "I got you covered."

"Thanks."

"Hey, baby," Ben greeted one of the waitresses and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hey, honey."

"How long've you been out?" he asked as they walked to a table.