There’s a photo in a frame on the bookcase. Adam and a group of guys, and they look young, like college young. They’re holding beers and smiling, leaning against each other. Adam looks happy, but not as much as the other guys, and it makes me like him more. I wonder if it was taken before or after he was homeless. I wonder if there’s an after for me. If I have a chance to have my own place with high ceilings and shelves full of music someday.

I don’t have to poke in the linen closet, because Adam left a towel and washcloth for me on the sink. I am alone, alone, alone and the water is hot. His soap smells like peppermint and makes my skin tingle and when I’m done, I feel like a dirty window that’s been washed until it squeaks. He left the bandages out for me too. I can’t find a hair dryer, so I get dressed and eat my sandwich in the living room with one of the director’s chairs pulled up to the wall so I can hang my hair over the radiator. I want to listen to more of Blood on the Tracks, but I worry I might fall apart. So I play Red House Painters and I like it. The lead singer’s voice sounds echoey and slow and it matches the sadness that runs under Adam’s smile in that picture.

When I’m done eating, I have to run the whole way back to Decadence to make it in time, but I am warm and clean and fed and happy.

— Chapter 16 —

Adam comes into Decadence at a quarter to six. I’m standing on a chair, trying to unscrew the side panel of the espresso machine, because Bodie somehow dropped a penny in the seam and then conveniently disappeared into the kitchen. Kelsye, the girl whose shift is after mine, is in early, so she takes Adam’s order. I give him a quick wave, but I’m so scared of losing the screws or dropping the panel that I can’t manage a good look to see if he’s happy to see me. By the time I get the penny and put everything together again, Adam is sitting at his usual table by the window, but his back is to me.

I go into the kitchen to sign out. Bodie is hunched over the stove, spooning something into a bowl. “Here,” I say, throwing the penny at him when he turns. He catches it. Slips it in his pocket like this whole thing was about him getting his money back.

“Here,” he says, and hands me a soup bowl full of mac and cheese, toasted bread crumbs sprinkled across the top. “Something I’m trying out.”

“Smells good,” I say, and he beams.

“The secret is mustard.”

I wince.

He says, “Trust me.”

“Okay,” I say.