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“I’m so sorry to be late.” He met me at the kitchen door. “I knocked, but nobody answered.”
“I was out back.” I opened the door and waved him inside. “Are you all right?”
“What?” He entered and stopped just inside. “Oh yeah. I apologize again for being late.”
“Have you had anything to eat?” His cheeks were pale and his eyes, so vibrantly green yesterday, were dull and shadowed.
“No.” He shook his head. “But that’s okay. I never eat breakfast.”
“Sit down at the table.” I was not pleased that he had been tardy and even less so that it looked like the reason was staying up late and overindulging in alcohol or something—didn’t models have a reputation for partying? But I thought someone with his background would know better than to do it with work in the morning. “I’m going to make you something.” I filled a mug with coffee and pushed the cream and sugar toward him. “Help yourself to a muffin while I scramble some eggs.”
“No, really I’m fine. You don’t have to go to any…is that cinnamon streusel?”
“Yes. I made them last night. Now, eat.”
While I whipped eggs with cream and set a pat of butter to sizzling in a skillet, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was obviously trying not to reveal how hungry he was, but he was halfway through his second muffin by the time I set the plate of eggs in front of him. “Want toast?”
“I don’t eat carbs much.”
“That’s a shame. I eat them way too much.”
He split open and buttered a third muffin and forked eggs into his mouth, apparently not recognizing the carb load of three gigantic muffins. Or maybe he was as out of it as he looked. “They aren’t good for the waistline.”
“Mm-hmm.” I poured a cup of coffee and sat down to fix it.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I had something earlier.” I hadn’t, but the eggs I’d planned for myself would probably be welcomed by him. How long had he been hungry? Years, likely. “You go on. More eggs?”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
I got up and served him the last of the eggs. When he was done, I refilled his mug and mine and sat down again. “Better?”
“I am, thank you so much. I really don’t eat in the mornings. Not sure what was wrong with me today.”
“Maybe you just like muffins.”
He looked at the plate as if he’d never seen it before. “I ate three?”
“I think so. I’m glad you liked them. But we need to talk.”
His pale cheeks flushed. “Oh right. I wondered if you would mind paying up front? I know the contract said after but…”
I had no idea why he needed it and hoped it wasn’t for anything bad. “Zelle okay?”
“That would be wonderful.”
He looked so relieved I was even more worried than before. I completed the transaction on my phone and then set it down and went to get a paper bag that I filled with cookies. Returning to the table, I set the bag between us. “Okay. So take these and go home, get some rest and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I…didn’t you want to work today?”
“I did, but you are not at your best. Tomorrow will be fine.”
West left, and I followed him home at a distance, wanting to make sure he made it safely, but when I got there, I didn’t leave right away. I waited to see…well, I didn’t know what. But he had needed that money for something, and if a drug dealer showed up, I was going to… Again, I didn’t know what, but I’d do something.
Chapter Eight
West
