The Tell-Tale Con by Aimee Gilchrist Page A

out in the woods for eight days with a couple of cameras and almost no information, gradually taking away their food and torturing them at night so they got less and less sleep.  Dad thought that was amazingly innovative.”
    â€œWow.”  I had no idea what to say about someone who thought that was a good idea. 
    â€œYeah, and he makes everyone do the same scene fifty or sixty times until he thinks it’s perfect.  There’s a reason people in the business call him Take-it-again-Van and Prozac Poe.  When I was a kid one of his actresses couldn’t finish the movie because she had to spend six months in a mental institution.  That’s how he rolls.”
    â€œWell, that sounds…fun.”  Parents everywhere were screwed up. 
    â€œYeah.” 
    Despite the street noise, the silence hung heavy between us.  I retreated back to politeness.  “Well, anyway, have you taken any of the Percocet the doctor gave you?”
    There was another long pause, a hitch of breath, the slight turning of his head away from me.  He was thinking of lying.  But, for whatever reason, he didn’t.  “No.”
    â€œWhy not?  Seriously.  Go take it and go to bed.” 
    â€œI…lost it.”
    â€œYou lost it?  It was, like, three hours ago.  How could you lose it?”
    His jaw clamped down, his mouth pulling so tight he looked like Mr. Wong, about to go on a tirade.  “I just lost it.”
    â€œI bet you could call the doctor, and they’d be able to give you some more.”
    â€œNo!” 
    Okay .  Maybe he’d “lost” the prescription pain meds the same way a girl with an abusive husband “accidentally” runs into a door.  Harrison didn’t want anymore so that the person abusing them wouldn’t have access to them anymore.  I was putting my money on Van Poe, but who knew, really.  People from all walks of life ended up addicted to pain killers. 
    Sometimes I had to think that my life wasn’t so bad after all.  “You should at least take some ibuprofen.” 
    â€œI already did.”
    His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.  He was in pain.  It was none of my business, and even if I was inclined to give sympathy, which I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it.  Not sincerely anyway.  I knew how to fake any emotion, but Harrison was hurting.  He didn’t need my fake sympathy. 
    â€œI hope you feel better soon,” I whispered.  I hiked up my bags and headed across the street before either of us could say anything else that would only make it worse.

CHAPTER NINE
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    Rules of the scam #41
    Give people what they want.  Unless you have to pay for it…
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    At seven in the morning, I trudged across the street to The Library to drive Harrison to school.  I had already decided that I wasn’t going to mention our conversation from the night before.  Even if I wanted to, I had no clue what to say.  Sorry your dad is an addict and he stole your pills?  Yeah, probably not. 
    Harrison was a lump huddled in the passenger seat of his car, back to wearing his familiar glasses and ugly T-shirts, the sharp looking guy of yesterday gone.  I rapped hard on the driver’s side window before sliding in.  He glanced up at me and nodded once.  After I was securely fastened behind the wheel, I started the car and pulled in a deep breath. 
    â€œYou should know I’m not a good driver.”
    Harrison looked at me oddly for a second and then laughed.  “I guess I should have asked that before requesting you drive me.”
    â€œI could have mentioned it before.  I’ve never had a car.  I ride the bus.”
    â€œThat’s very environmentally conscious.”
    â€œSure.”  It was also very pocketbook conscious, but I was certain Harrison