David jolted, his eyes shooting up and locking with Erika's own. He smiled at her, but she didn't buy it.

"Here's your beer."

"Thanks," he nodded, grabbing the beer, and returning with Erika to the booth.

As they approached, Erika saw Khalid waving a sign of the cross at Conrad. Conrad merely smiled, leaning back admiring his latest feat. A fork swayed on its tines against a toothpick impossibly balanced on the edge of a pint glass. Conrad was a master of sleight-of-hand.

"He's the devil, I tell you." Khalid waved at the inexplicable balancing act. "That shit right there, that's just not natural."

"You ain't seen nothin." Conrad pushed up against the table, and ever so carefully balanced his spoon between the handle of the fork and the tip of the toothpick. Everyone watched as he meticulously placed the utensil, then ever so gently withdrew his hand, subtly checking the balance with his fingers as he did.

"Fuck, dude. That shit's wrong." Khalid tapped Abby on her forehead, waking her from a doze against his shoulder. "Hey, do you see this shit?"

Abby swatted him away, as her head jerked to the side. The sudden movement threw her off balance and her hand came down hard, halting her fall.

The balancing act collapsed and clattered against the tabletop.

"Awww." Khalid looked disappointed to have the trick interrupted.

Frank, on the other hand, picked up the fallen fork and spoon, studying them as if a quick analysis would reveal the secret of the trick. "Okay, now, how'd you do it?"

"Yeah," Erika said, sitting and pulling David back into the booth. "We missed it. How about you give us another go."

Something flickered across David's gaze then as he sat down, something dark and angry. Something fierce.

Whether that anger had been directed at Conrad or herself, Erika did not know, but she did know one thing: for the first time she felt afraid of him. It was only the slightest tinge of fear, a momentary lapse that flickered then left, but it was fear nonetheless. She had glimpsed a darkness that she never thought existed.

That doesn't exist, she thought. Don't be absurd.

And she was being absurd, wasn't she? This was David. Short, scrawny David. The same David she'd met as he volunteered his time to help Abby with her headshots, refusing any pay. The same David that had drifted through life, an abused puppy, thankful for affection, loyal to a fault, and cowering at the slightest sound. Was it a bad thing when you compared your boyfriend to an abused puppy? Perhaps that was a knot to untangle on some other evening.

Erika returned her attention to David, but that flicker, whatever it had been was gone. Instead she found him now focused once more on his Moleskine, sketching away at the scene. Frank had taken shape, and the outline of Abby beside him leaning against the negative space that would eventually become Khalid. The lines came down dark and hard, a jagged bluntness to the strokes that was atypical of David's work. Much as that thought nagged at her, mingling with so many warnings from the evening, Erika still felt it best to leave David to his sketching. Perhaps whatever it was that was bothering him would work itself out on the page.

"Here. I'll do it again." Conrad said, snatching his utensils back from Frank. "Watch closely."

Erika shifted her focus to Conrad. She needed a break. David was a grown man, her boyfriend, not her child. She had no inclination to mother him any further.

Ever so carefully, Conrad began the balancing act with the fork. His eyes narrowed with his focus, his long fingers dexterously weaving the utensil tower against the glass.

Across from her Frank watched with inebriated interest, attempting to decipher the exact mechanism behind the trick. Even drunk her brother couldn't help but to pick everything apart.

Abby on the other hand had settled back against Khalid, a small line of drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. Erika would have to make sure both she and Frank had rides home. Of course, Khalid would likely take Abby, leaving Erika stuck with Frank. Maybe she could stick him in an Uber.

Suddenly, Khalid shifted his attention from the trick, zeroing in on David. Apparently someone else was going to poke that bear. At least it wouldn't be her this time.

"Hey, David, check this shit out." Khalid reached over to tap David on the shoulder. "Head up, buddy. Out of the book."

"Huh?" David stopped. His breath caught for a moment as if waking from a trance.

Erika shifted towards David, sliding way too easily back into nurse mode. As she reached over, intending to ask him one more time (one more time too many) if he was doing all right, his sketch, now much more complete, stole her attention away.

David's eyes locked with hers, then followed her gaze down to the pages of his Moleskine. Instantly, he pulled back, slamming the book shut as if its very presence had offended him. And why shouldn't it have? Erika had seen the open page and the doodle carved in deep graphite shadows across the paper. She'd seen it, and her fear had returned.

"What you got there?" Khalid asked, leaning over.

"Nothing." David stood, gathering up his Moleskine. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Hey," Khalid waved his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Seriously, it's not that," David said. But it was that, wasn't it? Erika knew it was. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but she couldn't find the words.

Conrad stopped, casting aside his parlor trick. "It was porn wasn't it? You were sketching porn."

"It wasn't porn." David let out an uneasy breath. "Look, it was an idle sketch, that's all." David stepped away from the table. "Sorry, I gotta go. I forgot... something. Another night, okay?"

David dropped a wad of cash on the table and rushed off, a chorus of farewells and goodbyes following in his wake. Erika, however, could not be assuaged quite so easily.

She stepped away, following after him, and caught up with him near the hostess station. "David, wait."

Did she want him to wait? She didn't know. Perhaps it would be best if he left, if he just kept walking. But he didn't. He stopped and began to turn and Erika feared what she might see as she met his eyes. Would that anger be waiting there again? That darkness? Or would it be the man she loved, a man that had seemed virtually absent all evening.

In the end it was neither.

A new look clouded David's eyes: fear - this time his own. She could see a hint of water welling in those eyes, eyes that had drawn wide. At his side, his fingers nervously played against the binding of his Moleskine to which he clung tightly.

"Really, it is nothing. I just have to go."

"If you say it's nothing one more time..." Erika let the thought trail off, mainly because even she didn't know how she intended to finish the thought. What would she do? Anything?

For that matter, what could she say? She knew they needed to address what she had seen in that book, but as she stood there in front of David, she found herself at a loss for words once more. She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. No. Worse. She wanted to forget it had happened at all. If she didn't bring it up, if she didn't mention it, then some small part of her could still cling to that hope, that desperate need to forget.

"I think I left my credit card at a bar down the road. That's all."

She needed to call his BS. It was such an obvious lie. Yet what was that phrase? If you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes the truth.

"Okay," she said. "Just call me when you find the card, or if you need a ride, or anything." She didn't even know what she was saying anymore. That sketchbook kept stealing over her thoughts, and suddenly she just wanted David to leave. She didn't even know why she had chased after him in the first place.

"Of course," he replied. "But I'll be fine. I'll see you, tonight." David leaned in and kissed her. The whole affair came across awkwardly perfunctory and they both knew it.

"Yeah. Tonight."

They stood in silence for a moment, until David shrugged an uncomfortable goodbye and rushed out the door. As he turned from Erika, her mind shifted back to the sketchbook. Had it ever left?

She couldn't shake that final image on the page. 

Graphite had filled almost every available space, and in a level of detail that David's sketches rarely attained. Despite the hard edges and violent strokes, the lines wove with a delicate intent, all drawing towards one thing, one person - Conrad. There all lines had converged into a thick, dark mass. Sketched in uncharacteristically jagged strokes, David had drawn Conrad in photo-realistic detail. Every nuance had been captured perfectly, all the way down to the glassy horror in his eyes and the blood gushing from his garroted neck, then pooling on the table.

The door slammed shut behind David, and Erika jumped, a surge of bile rising in her throat.