I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Going Legit
Will was spending time with his daughter.
His daughter who was recovering from a double lung transplant.
And Dylan Massett was sitting in the vast cafeteria of the All-Saints Hospital in Portland, Oregon.
Alone.
Cup of coffee cooling in front of him.
Quiet and still.
Grinning.
Seattle.
He was going to Seattle with Emma and her dad.
He wasn't going to be a pot growing, reject bastard incest son in White Pine Bay anymore.
He was leaving. He was going to Seattle.
He was going to be with Emma.
He was going to be a different person.
He was going to be . . .
Oh crap.
I gotta find a job.
Hello, Google search.
Seattle, Washington jobs.
Healthcare Services Coordinator.
No.
MCAT Prep Instructor.
I don't know what that is.
Laboratory Assistant.
I'm afraid of that job.
He almost clicked on Laborers for Concrete Construction . . .
I know I can do that. I've done it before.
. . . but decided to come back to it.
Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.
Carpet Cleaning Techician.
Er, um-
And then he saw it.
Hops Distribution Assistant Manager.
Oh. That sounds like selling weed.
But legit.
That's it.
I can do that.
I can do that well.
Then he realized . . .
Oh crap, I need a tie.
So he called . . .
"Hello, I'd like to apply to for a job. My name is Dylan Massett . . ."
. . . got the interview . . .
"Okay. Thanks."
. . . did some research . . .
Hey, that looks like our sales model. Do you also reserve special pits for people you have to bury under the radar?
. . . and went out looking for . . .
Hello, I'd like to buy this neck strangler, please.
. . . a tie.
The drive was long and boring.
But Dylan grinned most of way.
Emma had reemerged from her room . . .
"Are you that desperate to see me naked?"
"Maybe."
. . . redressed and all Dylan wanted was to curl up with her.
But she looked worn.
Dark circles were hedging under eyes and her smile was faded and wan.
"I guess I will take a nap. I'm a little tired from the drive."
Dylan nodded amicably and Emma shrugged, somewhat self conscious.
"Great girlfriend, huh, always sleeping."
Her tone was light but Dylan took it deadly serious.
"Emma, come on. You just had surgery."
She nodded, eyes cutting away from him.
"I know."
Dylan tilted his head at her, squinting. Deciding it was time for a taste of her own medicine.
"Hey. You're supposed to be doing what you need to get well. And I'm here to support you. Don't worry about it, okay?"
She smiled for real then and he ducked in for a quick kiss.
"I gotta go anyway."
Her expression pouted for a fraction of a second.
"The farm?"
He cleared his throat.
"Uh, no. Actually, I'm driving to Seattle tonight. I have a job interview in the morning."
Emma's eyebrows raised.
"Really? Wow, that was fast!"
He smiled.
"I'll be back tomorrow."
She nodded and kissed him.
"Good luck."
He grinned.
"Thanks."
The dread was forming in the pit of his stomach as he sat there at the table. Watching the interviewer size him up.
He was screwed.
This was the perfect job for him.
He already knew how to do it, he was a shoe-in as far as experience.
Except he couldn't prove it.
Because "weed hustler" wasn't something you could put on a resume.
The guy . . .
"Vic Chaney."
"Dylan Massett."
. . . Vic had a good handshake and a polite smile.
But Artful Artifacts was crap on this job.
And Dylan Massett was wasting his time even mentioning it.
And he wanted this job. He needed this job.
For himself.
For Emma.
For a new beginning.
And he was not going to get it.
Not with Artful Artifacts.
He appreciated Will.
The man had tried.
But there was only one thing that gave him a chance in hell of getting this job.
Tell the truth.
"Marijuana Distribution Manager."
Well, telling the best part of the truth.
"Three month probationary period . . ."
Yep.
"Online and on site training . . ."
Okay.
"Supervisor check-ins . . ."
No problem.
"Okay, Dylan. That's about it."
Dylan allowed himself a small smile as he shook Vic's hand with a gratitude and hopefulness he was coming to associate with the new life that he had been reaching out for ever since Emma had become his beacon in the darkness.
"Thank you so much, Vic. I won't let you down. You have my word."
Vic smiled and nodded and Dylan knew the man still wasn't a hundred percent convinced that he had made the right decision.
But that was okay.
He would prove it.
He would excel at this job, make the guy realise he had made the right decision.
He would do it.
Not for the guy.
But for her.
Himself.
And this new life they were all getting.
"Do you get benefits?"
"Yeah."
"That's so sexy."
Mmm, I'll say it slow. 401k. Retirement plan. Health insurance premiums.
An extremely bouyant Dylan Massett lay on his back on the bed of his beautiful, amazing, supportive and . . .
"I can't believe you told him you were a drug dealer."
. . . slightly teasing girlfriend, Emma Decody.
Now, come on, Em. What do you take me for?
"Marijuana Distribution Manager."
Her relaxed smile and amused chuckle warmed him up almost as much as her gentle caressing of his hand.
The light weight of her head on his knee.
And the warm, casual encouragement she always seem ready to raise him up with.
"Well, I'm glad you told him the truth. And that it went well."
Yeah, me too. First try too.
"I'm proud of you."
Aww, thanks, Mom. I mean, Emma.
And then he forgot all about the thing he didn't know was his Freudian slip.
Because his girlfriend sat up.
"What's up?"
And started talking about something else entirely.
I was proud of Dylan too. And frankly, a little surprised he got the job. But really happy too.
'Cause this is a guy that's absolutely gonna take this fresh chance and run with it, right?
Well, anyway, thanks for reading!