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cold certainty. “I was supposed to follow in his footsteps. First Yale, then law school, then Granger and Haynes. But I won’t be a part of his system. I flew down to Haiti to help the Red Cross dig sanitation ditches for a while. Thought about staying there permanently until it dawned on me that the Third World is right here in New York City thanks to people like my father. The sad reality is that practically everyone has given up on these kids,” he said as he watched them frolic in his garden. “I haven’t. They’re good kids. And they’re full of hope—until we take it away from them.”
    â€œDid Boso come out here to volunteer? Is that how you met her?”
    His face tightened. “Not exactly. I don’t spend very much time in Manhattan anymore. My apartment’s in Bed-Stuy. But I went home to see my mother one day back in May when my father was away on a business trip. My mother’s okay. She doesn’t totally understand what I’m doing but she has my back. We had lunch together on the terrace. It was a nice, sunny spring day. I took a walk through Central Park afterward. I found Boso sitting on a bench by the Bandshell with her duffel bag, sobbing her head off. Cutest little thing I’d ever seen in my life. Eighteen years old. Slammin’ bod. She’s a fitness freak, you know. And a vegan. I asked her if there was anything I could do to help. We talked for a long, long time. She told me she was from Ruston, Louisiana. She calls it Looz iana when she loses her temper, which happens a lot. She was supposed to start her freshman year at LSU this fall but she skipped town before she graduated from Ruston High. She was a big time cheerleader there. Won all sorts of national competitions. She has major acrobatic skills. Came up here to try and make it as an actress. When I met her that day in the park she’d hit bottom. Run out of money. Run out of friends’ places where she could crash. She was homeless. I told her she could crash on my sofa for a few days if she’d put in some time working here. And so she did. And pretty soon she was sharing my bed with me,” he recalled wistfully. “We had a lot of fun together. And she was a huge help here. She knows a lot about gardening from her dad. They were real close. But he suffered from depression. When he found out her mom was involved with another guy he killed himself.”
    â€œWhen was this?”
    â€œAbout three years ago, I think. Her mom ended up marrying the guy. Boso never forgave her. She totally hates her mother. Won’t even let her know where she is.”
    â€œAnd what about her stepfather?”
    â€œShe doesn’t talk about him much, other than to say he’s an asshole. Boso’s someone who has strong feelings about people. She’s got a lot of fire in her. She’s smart, she’s intuitive…”
    â€œIs she a sound sleeper? Does she get nightmares?”
    He looked at me in surprise. “All of the time. How did you know that?”
    â€œPlease continue. You were saying she’s smart, she’s intuitive…”
    â€œAnd a hard worker,” he added, nodding. “She slung drinks for caterers, taught exercise classes, any kind of cash gig she could get. She took a lot of acting classes in the East Village. Went on all sorts of auditions. Boso’s super talented. She’ll make it. I really believe that. Because she’s genuine . Most girls I meet aren’t. They’re layer upon layer of artifice. Not Boso. Her heart is right there. She just reaches in and hands it to you.”
    â€œWhen was the last time you saw her?”
    â€œTwo months ago. She told me she’d seen an ad on Craigslist for some agency that was looking for models and actresses.”
    I felt my stomach muscles tighten. “And…?”
    â€œShe met with some guy in midtown who told her he could get her paying work right away