Falling Awake

onto the road that would take them back to her place.
    “I was with Lawson full-time for over ten years but it was what you might call an accidental career. I still think of it as a sort of sideline. My real interest has always been in business and investing. My father founded a software company that was very successful. Guess it’s in my blood.”
    “What do you like about the business world?”
    He thought about it for a moment. It was a question he had never asked himself.
    “I get a rush out of playing for high stakes,” he said slowly. “I like to use my dreaming talent to spot patterns and trends in the economy. I like catching the wave before anyone else even knows it’s there.”
    “But you still work for Lawson.”
    “Like I said, it’s a sideline.”
    “Why do you do it?”
    “The money’s good,” he said carelessly.
    She watched him from the shadow. “You don’t do it for the money.”
    “No?”
    “I think you do it because hunting bad guys in your dreams is your way of doing the right thing. It’s your contribution to society. You help make the world a little safer.”

    Damn. She thought he was some sort of hero. He could feel himself turning a dull red. He was very grateful for the pool of darkness that filled the small space inside the Maserati.
    “Don’t get the wrong idea here,” he said. “I work for Lawson a few times a year because I owe the guy and because I can always use additional investment cash.”
    “Those are not the only reasons you do what you do,” she said quietly. “Don’t forget, I’ve read a lot of your dream reports.”
    Her absolute certainty shook him.
    “You’re the one who pointed out earlier this evening that people can tell you anything they want about their dreams and you have no way of proving that they’re lying,” he reminded her.
    She smiled a little. “If you had lied to me consistently in your dream narratives, I would have sensed it. Tell me, how did your family react when you took the job with Lawson?”
    “I lost my parents when I was twelve.” He kept his voice completely neutral, the way he always did when he talked about the past. “They were victims of some crazy who had a bad case of workplace rage. My folks were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
    “Ellis.” She turned abruptly in the seat to look at him. “What happened? Who raised you?”
    “The State of California.”
    “Foster homes?”
    “Yeah.”
    “My God. Talk about a nightmare.”
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw her start to reach out as though to touch him. Her pity was the very last thing he wanted.

    “They weren’t all bad,” he said, putting a lot of ice into the words because he wanted her to get the message. “Some were better than others. In any case, I was only in the system for three years. No worse than being sent away to boarding school.”
    “Oh, sure. Just like boarding school. Give me a break.” She paused. “How come you were only in the system for three years?”
    “I left the last home when I turned fifteen.”
    “You ran away? How did you survive on your own at that age?”
    The anxiety in her voice almost made him laugh. “How do you think I survived? I went into business for myself. I told you I’ve always had a knack for turning a profit.”
    She cleared her throat. “What kind of business could you get into at that age?” She paused. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”
    “Well, I gave considerable thought to entering the illegal substances market,” he said, keeping his tone mockingly serious. “But I guess I’ve always been a strategic thinker when it comes to business. I took a good, hard look at the profit-risk ratio and decided that the long-term prospects in that particular field were not very good.”
    “Come to think of it, you don’t see a lot of successful drug dealers over the age of thirty, do you?” she murmured. “They’re either dead or in jail. Then, too, I suppose the competition is rather fierce.”
    “The competition is only part of the problem. Maintaining a core market share is very difficult. Your best customers tend to die on you.”
    “Okay, so you were too smart to sell drugs on the street.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “How did you make a living?”

    “Online.”
    She sucked in her breath in startled surprise and then laughed. “Of course. Should have thought of that.”
    “I started out buying and selling for other people. Took a commission on each trade. Then I