Chapter Seven

Antoine

I nursed my second cup of coffee, the kitchen clock ticking away the minutes until seven and beyond. I had everything laid out to do the initial sketch in the living room where the light was similar to the dining room but there weren't paintings stacked everywhere. I didn't want my model or myself distracted by a mess.

The contractors drove down the driveway to the back, past the kitchen door, and I picked up the container of muffins and thermal carafe of coffee I had for them and went out back. I made them coffee every morning and had a cooler of water and iced teas for them as well. They were doing a great job and it also gave me an excuse to check up on them. A lot. And they put up with me. The night before, I had been restless and made muffins and cookies.

This morning, they were extra glad to see me when I gave them the coffee and treats. We still had quite a bit to go, but I could see that we were turning the corner. Adding a loft had been a big-time suck, but I could already see how glad I'd be to have it.

"The bathroom is almost done, Antoine," the contractor said. "I think you'll be pleased." He led me in and showed me all the progress, and I told him how great it looked. By the time I headed for the house, it was nearly seven thirty, and I was starting to wonder if the alpha model was going to come at all. Perhaps he had realized that my home studio, the messy imperfect place that it was, was not worthy of his efforts. That underwear campaign he'd been a part of had no doubt been shot at an impressive studio with all the lights and crew that implied.

He had explained he'd moved here and that it had been a while since he'd done any modeling. And he had never sat for a portrait like this before. If he'd changed his mind, I would not hold him to the contract. But I would like to be informed so I could decide what to do next.

But as I reached the kitchen door, West came around the side of the house from the driveway, looking like pound shit. I mean, it was difficult for anyone as attractive as him to look bad, but whatever he'd been up to the night before, it did not leave him either paint or camera ready.

"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.