Chapter 7: On DisplayMr. Night spends the rest of the afternoon in his office.
“I just need to get a few hours of work in,” he says when we arrive back at the house. “Don’t think I’m ignoring you. I get laser-focused on my work.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say.
I entertain myself by watching TV on the flat screen in the living room, occasionally walking quietly past Mr. Night’s office to hear him having intense business phone calls. As I lie on the couch watching a rerun of The Simpsons, my phone buzzes with a text from Tish.
Tish: Are you coming by for your suitcase?
Dylan: Not today, sorry. Maybe tomorrow.
There’s no response. She must think I’m deep into some drug-fueled orgy with Mr. Night. There’s no way to explain to her what he and I have. Hell, I don’t completely understand it mys
