He's passed out on the couch when Eris walks by in the morning. The bottle of gin is sideways on the coffee table, dripping out the last little bit onto her expensive wood. He has no blanket, no comfortable clothes. It's just him, strewn out.

Eris makes herself breakfast, cleans up her plates. Wipes the counter. Doesn't touch that bottle of gin. She goes downstairs, where the restaurant is setting up breakfast. Peter is lounging in the staff room, watching her as she organizes things for the day. She'll glance at him occasionally, tell him to do something. They're still Peter and Eris, but not quite the same anymore. The other employees move, bustle, don't notice anything different. At noon, when Adam rolls over on the couch to stop the sun from waking him up, Eris snaps at Peter. Tells him to get in the Maserati. He does.

They drive to the south end liquor store. Peter kicks at the door until it opens.

"Look at that," Leonardo says, lounging in a chair behind the till. "My favourite lawyer and her favourite fuckboy."

Eris steps past Peter, into the store. "Nikolas," she says.

"Dropped him back off at his apartment yesterday," Leo says. "I think he's got a concussion, but that's nothing compared to what he did to you."

Eris takes a step, over to the gin rack. She takes the most expensive one and puts it on the counter. She leans over it.

"Don't think I liked your little trick," she says.

Leonardo leans forward and scans the bottle. "I think I liked yours. Who knew how much dirt you had on that damn cop, for real. Laid him out to dry like a sheet."

Peter stands at the door, ready.

Eris watches Leo. She taps the counter. "We're done," she says. Without her as a dealer, Leonardo will have to massively cut down on his sales. Eris is the only bulk fentanyl dealer in the city, and that's where the money is. And because Eris took control of his buyers, he has no connections.

"Not quite," Leonardo says.

Peter takes a step forward.

Leonardo stands, facing Eris. "Cops are fining me the maximum for possession. Fifty thousand. You're going to pay it."

"Am I?" Eris asks, leaning closer.

"That's right. Fifty thousand." He nods to the bottle. "And sixty-two for the gin."

Eris takes the bottle off the counter. "Like hell," she says, and turns away. She walks out the door, and Peter closes it behind her.

Eris tosses the gin in the back and gets into the driver's seat. Peter closes his door.

"He'll go for Hughes," Peter says, putting on his seatbelt.

Eris puts the car in reverse. Gets on the freeway. She doesn't answer Peter, even as she pulls into Nikolas' apartment complex. She takes an envelope from the console and tells Peter to stay in the car.

"Boss," Peter warns, reaching for the handle. "You're not going in there alone."

"I said stay in the car."

"I'm not staying in the damn car. You want to end up in the hospital again?"

Eris shuts her door and leans through the window. "Stay in the car." She tosses him the keys and walks away.

"Bullshit," Peter says, but he stays.

Eris takes the steps up to his floor. She has the key to his apartment still. She pays for it, after all.

When she opens the door, the apartment is dark. All the blinds are drawn, all the lights are off. He's on the couch, just like Adam. The counter is full of empty packages, dusted with cocaine. There's liquor, too, but that doesn't do much for Nikolas anymore.

Eris shuts the door behind her. He has his hand over his eyes, chin to the ceiling. He rolls his head over when he hears the door, opens his eyes.

"Hey," he says.

Eris runs her finger over the counter. It comes away white. "What are you on?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I don't know anymore."

Eris rolls her shoulders. He hasn't completely cleaned the blood from the carpet.

"You quit your job," Eris says.

"You keeping tabs?"

"Of course I'm keeping tabs."

Nikolas reaches over to the package on the table. Drags it closer.

"Don't take in that in front of me."

"I'm taking it when you leave," he says. He watches the powder as it falls down the side of the plastic.

"You're ruining yourself," Eris says.

"Nothing left to ruin," he answers.

Eris takes a step closer to the couch. "I had to destroy a family to keep Leonardo away from you, Nikolas. You're sucking money and time from me. I'm not going to pay for you to sit in this apartment and kill yourself."

"Then don't," he replies. "Stop paying for my car. I don't drive it anyway. Stop paying for the apartment. I'll live on the street. Stop pretending like you give a shit. You broke up with me. You fired me. You don't give a shit. I just look a little too much like your brother for you to kick me to the curb."

Eris watches strands of his hair fall over his face. He does look like a lot like her brother.

"I broke up with you because you beat me," Eris says. She stands in the middle of the apartment, dust swirling around her.

"You broke up with me because you didn't love me anymore," Nikolas answers. "When you did, you dealt with the beatings."

Eris watches him breathe. His chest rises and falls, the curve of his lips parted slightly.

"You're twenty-four, Nikolas. You have an entire life to live, and you're wasting it. Even if you manage to dig yourself out of this hole in a few years, the drugs are going to kill you young. You want to die?"

"I think so," he says.

Eris looks around the room. She moves over and kneels in front of him, places her hand on his chest. She used to lay with him on a couch like this in the first apartment she had in America, back before she cared about the material of a couch or the clothes she was wearing. Back before he'd ever hit her.

"You don't want to die, Nikolas."

He shakes his head. He hasn't shaved in a few weeks, so there's stubble on his jaw and his neck. He never let it get that far.

"I don't want to live," he says.

"No? You don't want to roll the windows down and drive fast anymore? You don't want to eat Thai food anymore? Listen to music? Have sex? You don't want to do any of those things?"

"Sometimes," he says, eyes on the ceiling. "Sometimes I want to do those things when I wake up sober, but then I remember that I can't do anything of them with you."

"I'm not god, Nikolas. The world does not revolve around me."

"Feels like it does," he says.

Eris runs her hand over his shirt. She stands and turns. Collects the plastic from the counter and throws it in his trash. Wets a paper towel and cleans the cocaine off the surfaces.

"I called your parents," Eris says.

Nikolas reaches over and takes the bag of cocaine off the table. He sits up and pours out a little. Uses his dead credit card to push it into a line.

"I said don't take that in front of me."

"I said not to ever call my family again," he answers. He leans down, presses his finger to his face.

Eris kicks the side of the table. The cocaine spreads out, and Nikolas grabs the side of the wood.

"I'm putting you on a flight," Eris tells him. "You'll go to rehab in Greece."

Nikolas laughs, pushes the cocaine into a line again. "I'm not going to rehab. Or Greece."

"You love Greece, Nikolas," Eris insists. "You talk about it all the time. You love the weather and the history and the culture. You loved it there."

"I loved you. Not Greece."

Eris lets out a long breath. "Go home, Niky. Go to rehab for a few weeks. Go have dinner at the restaurant that you never stopped talking about. Go travel, Nikolas. It hurts to watch this."

Nikolas rests his forearms on his knees. Glances over at her. "You want me to leave America because I'm annoying you."

"I want you to leave America because Leonardo is going to keep bashing your head in to get me to do what he wants. I want you to leave because it's the only way you get out of this rut."

Nikolas looks down at the cocaine on the table.

Eris walks over to his room. Takes his suitcase out from under his bed. He can hear her putting the clothes in, hear her taking his charging cables and his razor and his toothbrush. He stares at the cocaine.

"How's your cop?" he calls to her.

Eris rolls the suitcase to the living room. She picks up his phone from the coffee table. "You have to shower before you get on the plane. You'll light up like a Christmas tree if you don't."

"How's Adam?" Nikolas asks.

"Get in the shower, Nikolas. Get up."

Nikolas looks at her for a long time, then he stands. Leaves the line on the table. He opens the door to his bathroom. Turns on the water.

Eris picks out fresh clothes for him. Holds them in a bundle and waits. When the water turns off, she hands them to him.

She steps into the bathroom when he only has the shirt left. She leans against the wall, hands it to him.

His hands are shaking as he tries to unfold it and put it the right way. His muscle mass is destroyed, his nerves are jumpy.

Eris looks at the apple tattoo. It's just one of many. He can't find the armholes of the shirt.

She steps forward. Takes the shirt from him.

"I can do it," he insists.

"I know. Lift up your arms."

He does. As she pulls it down, her fingers brush the tattoo.

He reaches out, curls his fingers around her hand. Brings it to his lips.

"What's the name of the restaurant?" she asks. "The one with the actual Greek food. You said you'd take me there."

Nikolas mumbles against her hand, "Lithios."

"Look me in the eye, Niky. Tell me that you're going to sit down at Lithios when you're sober."

He lifts his eyes. Keeps her hand pressed to his lips.

"Promise me," she says.

"Okay," he says.

Eris lifts her hand to his face. Holds it for a moment. Then she turns around, takes the suitcase, and rolls it out the door. She waits for him.

He walks slowly, sickly. He puts his hand on the railing as he gets down the stairs. When they get to the main floor, Eris opens the building doors for him. There's a cab waiting outside, and Eris helps him into the back. Tells the driver he's going to the airport.

Eris hands him the envelope. "Your ticket, Niky. Terminal one, gate four. Nonstop flight. It's paid. Your parents are going to meet you there. Get on that plane, Nikolas." She takes his face in her hands. "Tell me you will get on that plane."

"I will," he says.

Eris takes her hands away and shuts the car door. Stands on the curb as he drives away.

When he's gone, she walks back to the Maserati. Peter sits still in the passenger seat. She gets in, holds the wheel. Takes a deep breath.

"Don't know why you help him," Peter says. "Don't get it."

"That's the mystery of me," Eris says, and puts the car into first.

Adam realizes Eris is vegan around four in the afternoon, when he starts to get hungry. He searches through her food, her fridge, her pantry. It's all fruit, bread, soy milk and beans. She doesn't have anything with any actual food value. He finds a package of crackers. She doesn't own any cheese.

She opens the door as Adam closes the fridge. He turns around.

"You have no normal food," he says.

She tosses her keys into the bowl by the door. "Nikolas kept a stash in the minifridge by your foot."

Adam looks down. He opens the cupboard, opens the fridge. Beef jerky, a container of yogurt. Good Nikolas.

"How did I not know you were vegan?" Adam mumbles as he tears open the jerky.

Eris places the bottle of gin on the counter, and Adam glances at it. She walks down the hallway, plugs in her phone. The doorbell to the penthouse rings.

Adam looks up from the yogurt. It rings again.

Eris comes back from her room, opens the door. It's Sarah, holding a box. She looks like she's struggling to keep it up.

Eris takes a step forward and closes the door behind her.

"I brought some of his clothes," Sarah says. She looks a lot better than she did last night. "I wasn't sure if he was staying here—"

"He is."

Sarah looks at the door behind Eris. "Okay, well, I brought this for him. I just figured maybe it's better if he doesn't come back to the house just yet."

Eris takes the box from her. It isn't very heavy.

"Thank you," Sarah says. "For coming."

Eris watches her. Doesn't say anything. Sarah starts to get uncomfortable.

"Are you...well, what are you going to do?" she asks.

"Let him drink," Eris says.

Sarah blinks. "But—I mean, his job—you're just going to let him drink?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he'll like you, then?" Sarah blurts. "You're just going to enable him to get him to stay with you?"

"Sure," Eris says.

Sarah shakes her head. "He won't see Daphne until he's sober."

"Noted."

Sarah takes a deep breath and turns away. Peter's waiting down the hallway, where he let her in with his card.

Eris brings the box back into the penthouse. She puts it on the counter.

"Who was that?" Adam asks.

"Sarah."

Adam glances at the box. "Those are mine?"

Eris leans against the counter. "Yes."

"So I'm allowed to stay here?"

"Yes."

Adam watches her hair fall over her shoulder. "For how long?"

"As long as you want."

"And there are no...conditions?"

"No conditions."

"I can drink."

"You can drink."

"I don't have money left," Adam says. "To drink."

"I'll pay for it."

Adam pauses. "Why?"

Eris shrugs. Leaves the box on the table. She walks up the stairs and goes to her office.

Adam watches her leave. Odd, very odd. He glances at the gin. But good for him.