Free Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner by Joshua Scribner

net six
figures in your first year, and that’s if you just do the SSI
assessments. There are not a lot of shrinks up that way, at least
not shrinks who can do the testing you can. You’ll get plenty of
other referrals.”
    Thinking he might have an
out, Jonah said, “But I’ve already committed with SSI. If I don’t
go, they’ll be pissed and not send the assessments my
way.”
    David shook his head. “I’ve
already talked to Don Cushing. He was thrilled with the idea. They
don’t have a lot of people doing assessments up north. And they
don’t have anyone as good as you anywhere. Working as a part of
SSI, or doing business with SSI, either way, it makes his life
easier. If anything, they may ask you to pick up another day. And
on top of that, because you’re fully licensed and proven in the
work, they’re going to give you $100 an hour instead of the usual
$90.”
    Jonah did the math. It
would be six figures, easy. It was a gold mine. He hated this.
There was no out that would be acceptable down the line. If he
didn’t take this, years from now, he would be kicking the hell out
of himself.
    “By SSI’s regulations, you
won’t be able to sign off on other peoples’ reports right away. But
after a couple of years, you’ll be able to bring in a few masters
level supervisees, maybe expand a little bit.”
    And then I’ll be just like
David.
    Jonah was silent for a
little while, then got up. “Excuse me,” he said, then went to the
restroom. There, he stood alone and stared into the mirror. Tate
was in his head. Tate wasn’t even there, and Tate was in his
head.
    “It’s just like Tate said
it would be,” Jonah said out loud. David would have his reasons,
Jonah was sure. David would be able to justify it to Jonah and in
his own mind. But, despite that, David had still given Jonah
something that wasn’t in David’s best interest to give, and Jonah
would be out of David’s life. Just like Tate had said it would be.
On another night, he and Tate had talked about therapy. Dance was
the metaphor Tate had used.
    “Are you dancing with me,
Tate?” Jonah asked out loud.
    #
    For Jonah, the relationship
with Tate was something best taken in doses. If the two of them had
dinner or went to see a movie together one night, Jonah generally
avoided Tate the next day or two. Then there was Saturday.
Saturday, the day after they got high, was completely off limits.
So, after coming home from lunch with David that Saturday
afternoon, Jonah had no intention of stopping off at Tate’s
apartment before going to his own. During the course of the drive
home, Jonah had told himself over and over again that he
wouldn’t.
    Jonah got out of his car
and walked to his apartment. He stopped outside the door. This
would have to go by Tate. Even if Jonah didn’t bring it up, Tate
would find it, and, in many ways, Tate was like a second
conscience.
    Yeah, Tate’s in your head.
He’s half of that voice that asks why the fuck you do the things
you do.
    It would have to go by
Tate, and if Jonah waited until next Friday, or even until
tomorrow, obsessing about it would freeze him up, making him
useless. It couldn’t wait. He went to Tate’s door and knocked. It
took about a minute for Tate to come to the door. He was wearing a
pair of pajama pants and a white undershirt. At first glance, Jonah
thought Tate might have been sleeping. But then, as he focused in
on Tate’s face, he realized that Tate wasn’t even tired. Tate was
just relaxed.
    “Come on in,” Tate said, as
if he had been expecting Jonah.
    Jonah moved to the couch,
then watched as Tate came over. Tate’s movements were slow but
fluid. The look on his face and his breath were as if he were
savoring something. Tate sat down.
    Before he had come inside,
in his mind, Jonah had heard Tate asking what Jonah was doing here
on a Saturday. Tate would have had to have noticed the
inconsistency, nothing getting past him. But Tate didn’t ask.
Instead, he said, “How’d