"Do you have anything that isn't... sad?"

Kylie was rummaging through Katherine's closet, tossing clothes onto the bed with disdain. "Zara, Zara, H&M... God, Kat, do you shop exclusively at the clearance rack?"

"It's called a budget, Kylie," Katherine said, leaning against the doorframe. She felt a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She hated dressing up. It felt like putting on a costume.

"Here." Kylie pulled out a simple black slip dress. It was old, from her life before, but the silk was real. "Wear this. And put on this lipstick. You look like a ghost."

She handed Katherine a tube of red lipstick. Katherine took it. The cool metal felt heavy in her hand.

"Hurry up," Trixie called from the living room. "The Uber is two minutes away."

They piled into the Uber XL. The air conditioning blasted, smelling of fake pine. Kylie sat in the middle, tapping furiously on her phone.

"Who helped you get the reservation?" Beth asked, leaning forward. "Catch is impossible on a Friday."

Kylie smirked, her eyes still glued to her screen. "A friend."

"What kind of friend?" Katherine asked. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter.

"A very influential friend," Kylie said vaguely. "You guys will see. He's meeting us there."

"He?" Beth raised an eyebrow. "Is this the mystery man you've been hinting at?"

Kylie giggled. "We're just... talking. But he's obsessed with me."

Katherine looked out the window. The palm trees of Santa Monica Boulevard blurred past. Los Angeles was a city of lies, and Kylie was fluent in the language.

They arrived at Catch LA. The entrance was a chaotic swarm of flashing lights. Paparazzi lined the velvet ropes, shouting names.

Kylie stepped out of the car and immediately struck a pose, hand on her hip, chin tilted. A few cameras flashed, but the photographers were looking past her, waiting for someone actually famous.

Kylie recovered quickly, tossing her hair. "Ugh, so intense tonight."

They were ushered past the bouncer and up the stairs. The restaurant was a lush, open-air garden, teeming with beautiful people. The noise was deafening-laughter, clinking glasses, the thrum of bass.

"Table for Barker," Kylie told the hostess.

They were led to a prime table near the edge of the terrace. Katherine sat down, trying to make herself small. She felt out of place in her old dress and bright lipstick.

"I'm ordering the seafood tower," Kylie announced, not looking at the menu. "And shots."

Katherine checked the prices. A cocktail cost as much as her phone bill. She ordered water.

"Oh my god," Kylie gasped. Her face lit up. She stood up, waving her hand frantically. "Over here!"

Katherine turned her head.

The air left her lungs.

Walking through the entrance, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water, was a man in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. He didn't look at the cameras. He didn't look at the hostess. He walked with an arrogant, lethal grace that Katherine would know anywhere.

It was Gus.

He was taller than she remembered. His shoulders were broader. His face had lost the last traces of boyishness, replaced by hard angles and a five o'clock shadow that made him look dangerous.

Katherine's hand flew to her mouth. She wanted to slide under the table. She wanted to run.

But it was too late.

Gus's eyes scanned the room. They swept over the crowd, bored and detached.

Then they landed on their table.

They landed on her.

For a tenth of a second, he stopped. His eyes widened imperceptibly. The boredom vanished, replaced by a flash of recognition so sharp it felt like a knife.

Then, just as quickly, the wall came down. His expression went blank. Cold.

Kylie practically threw herself at him as he approached. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Gus! You made it!"

Gus didn't hug her back. He stood there, stiff, his hands in his pockets. But he didn't push her away.

"Kylie," he said. His voice was deeper. Rougher. It sent a shiver down Katherine's spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"Girls, this is Gus," Kylie beamed, clinging to his arm like a trophy. "The friend I told you about."

Katherine couldn't breathe. The man who had destroyed her, the man she had spent four years hiding from, was standing right there. And he was Kylie's "friend."

"Sit, sit!" Kylie patted the empty chair next to her.

Gus sat. He moved with a lazy, predatory fluidity. He was sitting directly diagonally from Katherine. There was nowhere to look but at him.

"This is Beth, and Trixie," Kylie said, pointing around the table. "And that..." She pointed a manicured finger at Katherine. "That's Kat. She's our apartment hermit."

Katherine forced herself to look up. She forced a smile that felt like it was cracking her face. "Hi."

Gus looked at her. He didn't blink. He looked at her like he had never seen her before in his life.

"Hello," he said. The word was flat. Empty.

Katherine let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. He wasn't going to expose her. He was going to pretend they were strangers. It was a relief, but it also stung, a sharp, confusing pain in her chest.

A waiter appeared instantly. "Mr. Riddle. The usual?"

"Champagne," Gus said. "Krug."

Kylie squealed. "You spoil us, Gus." She leaned into him, her breast pressing against his arm.

Gus ignored her. He poured himself a glass of water and took a long drink, his eyes fixed on the tablecloth. He looked bored. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

The food arrived. The seafood tower was massive, obscene. Katherine picked at a shrimp, her stomach in knots.

"So, Gus," Kylie said, trying to draw his attention. "I heard rumors about the new film. A Thousand Fools? Everyone is talking about it."

"It's in development," Gus said shortly.

"Kat is an actress too," Kylie said, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, she's trying to be... again. She's been back at it for about a year since her... accident. But... you know."

Katherine froze. She gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white.

Gus looked up. He set his water glass down. He looked directly at Katherine.

"Is that so?" he asked. His voice was smooth, silky, and laced with poison. "Not talented enough?"

The table went quiet. Beth and Trixie exchanged awkward glances.

Katherine swallowed hard. "It's a tough industry. It takes time."

"Time," Gus repeated. He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Or maybe you just haven't found the right... connection yet. Is my brother not opening enough doors for you?"

The word hung in the air. Connection.

Katherine felt the blood rush to her face. She knew exactly what he meant. He was referencing that night. He was calling her a user, right here, in front of everyone.

"I don't need anyone to open doors for me," Katherine said, her voice shaking.

Gus smirked. It was a cruel, ugly thing. "Everyone has a price, Kat. Maybe the market just isn't buying what you're selling anymore."

Kylie laughed, oblivious to the subtext. "Oh my god, Gus, you're so savage. But it's true, Kat needs to step up her game."

Katherine felt tears pricking her eyes. She stared at her plate, willing herself not to cry.

Gus watched her. He saw the way her chin trembled. He saw the way she bit her lip.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out, bringing it to his lips. He reached for his lighter.

Then, he stopped.

His hand hovered over the lighter. His eyes flicked to Katherine.

She hated smoke. She was allergic. Even the smell of it made her cough until her throat was raw.

Gus stared at the unlit cigarette. A muscle in his jaw jumped. He looked angry. Not at her, but at the cigarette.

With a sudden, violent motion, he tossed the unlit cigarette onto the table.

"Changed my mind," he muttered. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, looking agitated.

Katherine looked at the white stick on the tablecloth. He remembered. After four years, after all the cruelty, he remembered she couldn't handle smoke.

Why?

The question swirled in her head, dizzying and confusing, clashing with the cruelty of his words.

The champagne bottle was empty. Kylie was flushed and loud.

"This place is dying down," Kylie announced, clapping her hands. "We should go to Nightingale Plaza. I know the promoter."

Gus leaned back, spinning his gold lighter on the table. "I'm tired."

"Oh, come on, Gus!" Kylie whined. She grabbed his arm. "Don't be a grandpa. Besides..." She turned her gaze to Katherine, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Kat can sing for us. Did you know she sings? She's terrible at acting, but she has a voice."

Katherine's head snapped up. "Kylie, no."

"Why not?" Kylie laughed. "Gus hasn't heard you. Maybe he can put you in his movie if you impress him. Sing something, Kat. Right now."

"We are in a restaurant," Katherine hissed. "I am not a circus animal."

"Oh, don't be such a prude," Kylie sneered. "Just a few bars. Sing that song you're always humming in the shower."

The table fell silent. People at nearby tables were looking. Katherine felt like she was shrinking, disappearing. She felt naked.

"Sing," Kylie commanded.

Katherine looked at Gus. She pleaded with her eyes. Help me.

Gus looked at her. He saw the panic. He saw the humiliation.

His hand slammed down on the lighter.

BANG.

The sound was startlingly loud. Kylie jumped.

"I have no interest," Gus said, his voice cold and hard as steel, "in listening to an amateur performance."

Kylie blinked. "I was just-"

"It's pathetic," Gus said. He didn't look at Kylie. He looked straight at Katherine. "Begging for attention in a restaurant. Have some self-respect."

The words were a slap in the face. He had stopped Kylie, yes. But he had done it by crushing Katherine.

A wave of nausea rolled over Katherine. It started in her stomach and rose to her throat-acidic and hot. It was the same sickness she had felt that morning in the Hamptons.

She stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor.

"Excuse me," she choked out. "Restroom."

She grabbed her purse and ran. She didn't look back.

If she had, she would have seen Gus watching her go. She would have seen his hand clenched into a fist on the table, the knuckles white.

"She's so dramatic," Kylie huffed, reaching for her glass. "She has zero thick skin."

Gus turned his head slowly to look at Kylie. His eyes were dark, terrifying voids.

"Check," he barked at a passing waiter.

He threw a black American Express card onto the tray. He didn't wait for the bill.

"We're leaving," Gus said.

"But Nightingale..." Kylie started.

"Now," Gus said. The tone of his voice brooked no argument. It was the voice of a man hanging onto his control by a thread.