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it had never occurred to her that people really did live on the streets. One of the older men in the film had reminded her of her father. He sang for money, out of tune and awful, but he made people laugh, saw the humor in life despite having nothing more than a backpack and a dirty coat to his name. Had she seen these people she’d have walked by hoping she didn’t contract anything nasty just from breathing the same air, but hearing their stories, she’d approached her financial advisor about making an anonymous donation to the charity. Something about the characters in the documentary had struck a chord. It wasn’t the fact they didn’t have wealth, it was that most of them didn’t have family or emotional support—they were just like her. When she’d tried to tell Juan, he had nodded, patted her hand, and changed the channel to watch Cribs on MTV.
    “Juan listens when you talk, huh?”
    “Yes, always. That’s what people do when they have manners.”
    Why was she lying?
    “Manners, too,” Nathan said, ripping open the packet and putting a whole biscuit into his mouth at once.
    “Yes, he’s nothing like you!”
    “You’re not wrong there.”
    “He won’t stand for this. If this threat is real, he’ll protect me. He’ll get the best people, and he’ll put me up somewhere better than this. Somewhere five-star. Somewhere that has a mini-bar at the very least.”
    Juan would make the calls, she would probably pay for it.
    “Somewhere like the Marisson?” Nathan suggested.
    “What?”
    “The Marisson, you know, the Marisson . Overpriced place on Lincoln Avenue. Where Juan takes Janey every Thursday when you’re either at the studio or having reflexology to manage your disorders.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Autumn folded her arms across her chest.
    “Listen, he may have custom-made clothes, but in my book, sleeping with your girlfriend’s personal assistant isn’t such great fucking manners,” Nathan stated.
    Autumn stared at him, trying to detect something, anything in his expression that would explain what he’d just said to her. Was this some sort of mind game to assess how she dealt with bad news? What was he going to say next to test her? What else could he say? Nothing else would have any effect. Her father was dead, her mother was a bitch, and she had no siblings. No, this was the worst thing he could have said, and it had to be a test or a bad joke.
    “If you’re expecting me to rise to that ridiculous statement then you’re going to be disappointed.” Autumn tried her best to sound confident.
    “I couldn’t care less what you think about it. Just putting it out there. Your boyfriend’s a cheating shit, and your personal assistant lies to you on a daily basis to cheat with him. Neither of them can be trusted, and you won’t be seeing them again until I need you to see them,” Nathan told her.
    Autumn sank down onto the bed, pulled her purse into her, and cuddled it like a comfort blanket. There were diamond shapes on the wallpaper o f the room. One…two…three…four… five.
    “I’m starving. I hope you eat more than just fancy shit because we’re having pizza,” Nathan said as he swung his jacket over his shoulders.

 
    Chapter Five
     
    Watching her eat was painful. She’d insisted on having a knife and fork to eat the pizza, then she’d cut each slice into miniscule mouthfuls a mouse could have swallowed whole. Then there was the counting. Every piece was counted. Every slice of pepper, each and every olive, odd pieces were separated, everything had to be ordered and arranged just so. What he wanted to do was grab the plate and shove everything into her mouth at once. There was practically no flesh on her. He was starting to wonder whether she actually ate anything at all. She was thin, pale, and anxious, nothing like the assured, confident performer he’d watched over and over on YouTube.
     
     
    Watching him eat was horrendous. He picked