“I started it when I got back from Afghanistan. A buddy of mine was medically discharged at the same time as me and he had a hard time finding a job and taking care of his wife and new baby. I forced him to take money from me to help him out, but I thought there should be something to help veterans start over that didn’t have a ton of red tape and oversight. So I have this nonprofit, and it provides career training and scholarships and has an emergency component for veterans and their families who need money and food to tide them over temporarily.”

My mouth dropped. How did I not know any of this? “And somebody would have given you money for that and all you had to do was take a picture?” Was I missing something?

Now he was using a spatula to transfer the rice to some paper towels. “That’s not the point. I want people to donate because they want to help veterans. Not because of Duel of the Fae. It makes me uncomfortable, and it feels like they’re missing the entire point.”

“No offense, but that’s kind of stupid. There are so many great charities out there and good causes to support. Probably nine times out of ten if someone supports yours, it will be because you’re the head of it. I can’t really see where that’s a bad thing. And if you’re uncomfortable, well, maybe find a way to get comfortable with it. Are you in a position to be turning money away because it’s not coming in the way you want it to?”

He seemed to consider this. “I guess not. Maybe you’re right.”

“I typically am.”

“You’re going to ruin your appetite,” he said, watching me eat more cereal.

“Not likely,” I responded. “By the way, Karen from Regional Advantage Bank says hi.”

He was pouring the cooked rice into an expensive-looking blender. “Who?”

“She works in customer service. I talked to her today because I lost my debit card at the after-party and I told her I was there with you, which she totally did not believe. And as a parting shot she said to tell you hi. Like I’d made up the whole thing.”

“Wait.” He stopped what he was doing. “You lost your debit card?”

“And somebody used it and cleaned out my checking account.”

“Everything?”

I formed my fingers into a circle. “Zero balance. And don’t go for your wallet again.”

“But you have money in your savings account, right?”

“No, Mr. Movie Star. I don’t have investment or retirement accounts, either. It’s all gone.”

A look of guilt crossed his features, as if that was exactly what he’d been thinking. “I’m sorry. I feel responsible.”

“You’re not responsible for the actions of a criminal.”