Under Illusion: Day 11

Word Count: 66,026

Summary of Events:

Arriving in Dallas, Dallis and Trace went for supper before checking into another motel, where Trace was called by his supervisor, who was irate to have ostensibly been told by one of the company staff following Trace that he had a passenger with him, which was expressly forbidden by the company. Angry at his supervisor, and also angry at having been forced to lie by Dallis, Trace ranted at Dallis after the call before sitting down and finding a baseball game to watch on TV, which Dallis joined him in watching, struggling with guilt at having betrayed and upset him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“You never answered my question before,” Trace said.

“What was it?” Dallis asked.

“What would you have done if you would’ve been faced with a guy twice my size?” Trace asked. “Whether brawny or fatty.”

Dallis didn’t really know what she would’ve done, but she knew what she would’ve felt.

“I certainly would’ve found any other type of man to be vastly less attractive,” Dallis replied. “If not outright appalling and disgusting.”

Trace’s eyebrows lifted subtly. “Are you aware of what you’re implying about me?”

“I’m aware of my implication, and if you’re not aware of it then you’ve got to be loaded on some powerful stuff,” Dallis replied.

“It would ruin my appeal to be vain about it,” Trace said. “But I’m aware of the kind of effect I have on women. I rarely am left yearning for female company when I want it, but I told you yesterday that I am not letting you seduce me, considering how grossly you’ve betrayed me, and how guilelessly you’ve lied to me.”

He turned his gaze back to the TV, the commercial break was over. Dallis looked at the TV for a moment herself, but she wasn’t inclined to give up.

“What would it take for you to reconsider?” Dallis asked.

“Nothing,” Trace replied succinctly.

“Not even if I said I was sorry for lying to you?” Dallis asked. “Or that I regretted it, and that I didn’t want you to be mad at me?”

Trace’s eyebrows rose subtly again and he looked toward her with scepticism. “Do you really feel that way?”

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“Why?” Trace asked, even though he didn’t look like he believed her.

“I don’t know,” Dallis replied. “I just do.”

Trace said nothing, prompting Dallis to look toward the TV to see what was holding his interest about the baseball game, as she didn’t suspect that he was a fan of either the Athletics or the Diamondbacks — the two teams participating in the game.

“It seems to me that you’re not really the gangster you’re trying to lead me to believe you are,” Trace said. “Real gangsters don’t have consciences, or any sense of guilt.”

“That’s only true in Hollywood,” Dallis snapped.

“Did you miss the part where I told you I spent my teenage years on the fringes of Spokane’s toughest neighbourhood?” Trace asked. “I had friends — including my best friend — who lived in that neighbourhood, and whom I spent time with in that neighbourhood. As a result, I met some former, current, and even future criminals and even gangsters, some of whom were even relatives of my friends, and in my observations, all of them had some measure of remorselessness, a lack of sympathy, and even a predisposition to brutality, which you seem to suggest that you’re lacking.”

“I’m not a gangster,” Dallis replied shortly.

“Then what are you?” Trace asked.

“Somewhat of a mercenary,” Dallis replied. “Like my father was.”

“But no longer is?” Trace asked.

“I didn’t lie to you when I told you about my parents,” Dallis replied. “My father really was murdered.”