Page 32 of Dean's Delinquent

Dumbstruck, I pull the curtain even further so light can come in to show me what I’m looking at. If it’s for an animal of some sort, it would be a very spoiled pet indeed. Piles of pillows rest at one end while blankets lie neatly folded in the other.

In the space between, there’s a tablet of some sort, some cups, and what looks like a bell. What in the actual hell? Could he be keeping someone in here? As Alice said while traipsing around Wonderland, ‘curiouser and curiouser.’

“I see you like to touch things that aren’t yours,” a deep, even-keel voice murmurs from somewhere behind me.

A gasp lodges in my throat as I whirl around and drop the thick curtain. “I’m sorry. I-”

“And I see you have trouble prioritizing things and getting tasks accomplished.”

He ignores me while picking up my clipboard. The one I didn’t touch. The one I was supposed to fill out while waiting for him. Fuck.

“Look. I know I was supposed to-”

“Sit.”

There’s something in his tone, some unnamable, ice-cold threat that slithers out as he says that one word. For a moment, every inch of my skin crawls as I rush over to the comfortable loveseat and sit down.

“What?” I tease in a pathetic attempt to dispel the gathering tension. “No chaise for me to lie down on?”

“Would you rather be lying down than sitting up while we talk?”

“Well no, but I-”

“Then why bring it up?”

“It was funny?” Helpless, I lift my shoulders as my hands flop to the side.

“I see.”

Turning, he rummages around his desk for a moment and pulls out a small notebook. Without even paying a bit of attention to me, he flips past several pages, all of which seem filled with notes.

Once he gets to a blank page, he scribbles something down before looking back up at me. “You were saying?”

“I- I’m sorry. But did you just write something down about me?”

“How else do you suggest I keep a record of things I find worth noting? I’m a man of many talents, but an eidetic memory is not one of them. One of only a few failings.”

“So modest. Is lack of humility one of your other weaknesses?”

He crosses his leg over his knee and leans forward as his gaze tries to bare my soul. “Interesting. You find humility a strength? Most seem to find it a liability. Where do you lie on the humility spectrum?”

“I… Well. I don’t know. I’ve never really given it much thought.”

“Ahh. Then I misunderstood. You spoke with such authority, I assumed you to be an expert in this field.”

For a moment, I merely stare at him, doing my best to figure out what game he’s playing. This has to be a joke. Surely Loftry wouldn’t employ someone so brash to be the in-house therapist.

“You’re really not a nice man, are you?”

“I am a man, yes. Nice depends on who I’m with. Right now, I am your therapist and not your friend. If you would like a friend, I’m sure you can find some obliging bum on the street. With enough money, I’m sure he’ll listen to whatever you say, hang on your every word, and give you the answer you long to hear instead of the one you need.”

My mouth drops open as his words ring through my ears. “You can’t be serious.”

“Does the truth offend you?”

“Well, yes,” I sputter. “Your version of the truth would offend everyone.”

“I see. And why is that? What have I said that’s so incredibly wrong or inaccurate? Would someone in desperate need of money not do whatever it is you wanted, within reason, to get it?”

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