“It’s important to forgive,” Scarlett said. “Are you always going to be like this? I like this new you. The old one was okay, but this one is better.”

“As long as I’m a fancy, rich television star.”

Spencer yanked the gate shut, and the inner doors squawked closed.

“You seem calmer today,” she observed.

He shrugged, dismissing the panic of the day before.

“You know,” he said, “the more I think about it, the more I’m glad I killed that guy. I’d do it again.”

Scarlett smacked him playfully. Rather than reply, he threw himself back against the sunburst and slid down to the elevator floor. The door opened at that moment and the German couple staying in the Sterling Suite looked at him in bafflement. His eyes were closed, so he didn’t immediately notice. Scarlett kicked his foot, and he looked up.

“Sorry,” he said, getting up and stumbling slightly as he exited the elevator. “I have this inner ear thing and I lose my balance…”

He swayed a bit as he held the gate for Scarlett to exit and the couple to enter. They looked concerned, and a little scared.

“It’ll pass,” he said as the elevator door slowly closed on them. “It always does. Have a good day!”

“They don’t speak English,” Lola said from behind the front desk. “Could you not freak them out by pretending to be dead in public spaces?”

“You can’t be mad at me today, Lo,” he said, leaning over the desk. “Your heart is filled with Spencerlove.”

“I’m not mad,” she said, smiling. “It’s just that I’d like to keep the last guests we have left. Also, you aren’t supposed to wear white after Labor Day.”

“I’m the bad guy. I break the rules.”

“Do you shoot more today?” Lola asked.

“No,” Spencer said, checking to make sure he’d put his wallet into his fancy white pants. “It’s just a read through. See you later.”

As he and Scarlett walked to Third Avenue, a few heads turned in their direction. Spencer glowed with contentment. By the time they reached the coffee and doughnut shop, he had actually started humming to himself, very lightly, under his breath. They took a spot in line behind an older man who was ordering a large box of cream and jam doughnuts and an iced coffee. As he waited for his food, he kept looking over his shoulder at Spencer, each look getting longer and longer until it was an outright and undeniable stare. Spencer wheeled around, turning his back to the man, and leaned down to Scarlett.

“That guy is looking at me,” he said in a low voice.

“You’re on TV now,” she whispered back. “And you just killed Sonny Lavinski. And you’re dressed like the ice-cream man.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect anyone to recognize me. Like, that much.”