Page 34 of Even in the Dark

“Okay, then. How much?”

He rakes his un-bandaged hand through his messy hair. “Huh?”

“How much did you get paid? For the modeling gig? The billboards and the tv ads and magazine spreads and stuff. How much did they pay you—ballpark?”

He stares me down for a good few seconds.

I arch an expectant eyebrow, focus concentrated on the road, but he still doesn’t bite. I nudge him again. “Are we talking five figures? Six?”

Another lengthy silence.

“Come on… Just a rough number.”

“Not sure,” he finally says, practically through clenched teeth.

“What?” My jaw drops and the car jerks again briefly as I gawk at him. “You’re not sure how much you got paid?” I face forward again, and Dylan lets his head fall back and turns to look out the window. I push on, undeterred. “How can you not know how much you got paid?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Clearly you didn’t inherit Phil’s keen sense of business, huh?”

“Clearly,” he deadpans.

“Okay… So, if you don’t know how much you got paid, that means you lied earlier. About doing it for the money.”

Again, he doesn’t respond.

“So? What’s the deal? You obviously had a reason for doing them, and if it wasn’t for the money, then why?”

He keeps staring out the window. His eyes have that far off look he gets sometimes, and I suddenly feel bad for pushing. It’s clearly a topic that makes him uncomfortable. I throw another glance in his direction, obviously for longer than I intended, because the car swerves again. Dylan swings his head my way, his green eyes wide as he curses under his breath then tells me, "you're a shit driver."

I regain control of the car. "You're a shit conversationalist."

He proves my point by lolling his head back against the headrest and resuming his landscape-watching. We drive in silence.

“I wasn’t looking at your crotch earlier,” I say after a while. “I was looking at your pocket. You’re going to lose that lucky six your sister gave you if you leave it loose in there.” It’s my version of an apology. Not for the pocket staring, but for the insistent questioning about the ads.

He tilts his head just barely in my direction, enough for his eyes to flicker briefly across my face, like he’s trying to read me. Then he goes back to staring out the window.

We’re both quiet for the rest of the drive.

Chapter Fourteen

SESSION TRANSCRIPT #5 – Dylan Braun

Treating therapist: Dr. Stuart Morley

Dr. Morley:You sure you don’t want a drink? Water or juice or something?

Dylan:I’m sure.

Dr. Morley:So, the first couple times I saw you, you’d just moved back. How have the last few days been?

Dylan:Fine.

Dr. Morley:First impressions of Sandy Haven? Thumbs up or thumbs down?

Dylan:It’s fine.

---