Page 23 of Gambler's Conceit

“And that doesn’t bother you?” I ask him.

“It’s… Hmm.” Caleb’s hand on my head stills. “I enjoyed seeing you with him, more than I thought I would. But I’ve never been the jealous type, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.” He tugs lightly on my hair. “I would only be upset if you attempted to run again.”

I start to reply, but Vortex comes back. He’s in disarray, his hair tousled and his face glistening with water, but he’s holding himself together well enough—all things considered. “Sorry, boss. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

Caleb nods. “No problem at all. Now, it’s late and at least two of us have work in the morning. Which bed would you like to sleep in, Seven?”

I almost make a snarky remark about them sleeping together instead, but I don’t want to piss Caleb off so soon after I gotback into his favor. “I’ll stay in here,” I say. “As long as Vortex promises to cuddle with Nacho.”

Vortex scowls at me, but he says, “Fine. I’ll cuddle with the damn cat.”

“Wonderful.” Caleb looks past Vortex at the open doorway. Miss K is sitting there, staring at us. “I think she’s wondering why we aren’t in bed yet, too.”

I nod, realizing I’m exhausted. It’s been a long, long day, and I think I could collapse without much effort at all.

I get up on the bed, curling onto my side near the edge, and yawn widely while Caleb and Vortex confer.

Before Caleb can even get into the bed with me, I’m fast asleep.

SIX

HAVOC

I scowl at my phone,where my stepfather has sent yet another text asking if I’ve got a job so I can move out already.

Sure, I’ll get a job, as soon as one of these jobs doesn’t do a background check on me and decide they can’t risk employing me.

“I paid your fucking rent,"I text back, although I know the only way he’ll be satisfied is if I’m no longer living under his roof.

It would be nice if my mother ever fucking stood up to him, but she hasn’t in the past fifteen years, so I don’t expect her to start now.

I wish I could move out. I don’t want to be the loser still living in his parents’ basement, but housing doesn’t come cheap in Calamity City and no landlord will accept “regular casino winnings” as steady income.

I set the phone on silent and turn my attention back to the casino. My eyes wander over to the blackjack tables, but I know how serious the risk of a ban is. I don’t want to be kicked out. Sure, there’s still The Red Heart or Palacio Diamante, but I know too many people working at the Palacio, and I can’t stand theRed Heart’s vibe. I could go to one of the smaller casinos, but the winnings are smaller there too, and the food is definitely worse.

I start wandering around, trying to pick out a poker table I could potentially win at, when I spot something more interesting.

The cute twink from the other night is sitting at one of the bar tables, staring listlessly at the casino floor.

I make my way into the bar area and casually lean against his table. He doesn’t even seem to notice me.

“Hey, rich kid,” I say, snapping my fingers.

His body jerks until he’s sitting perfectly upright, and he stares at me with a flicker of what I think might be fear until he catches himself. I had to have been imagining it, and it’s easy to dismiss when he offers a petulant little scowl instead.

“Oh, it’syou,” he says, his shoulders drooping again as he goes back to moping.

“Yep, it’s me,” I answer, going for a flirty smile despite his dismissiveness. “Your name was… Seven, right? Guess you didn’t manage to get far last night.”

Seven snorts. “Yeah, you could say that.Daddydragged me upstairs to get a proper spanking and everything.”

I furrow my brow and try to figure out if he’s being serious. “Your dad beats you?” I look him over, but I don’t see any obvious marks.

Of course, I know well enough that beatings don’t need to leave marks to be painful.

Something crosses his expression, fast but not so fast I can’t recognize it as surprise. “He’s not my dad,” he says, which explains absolutely nothing. “But boy, is it uncomfortable to be sitting on this barstool right now.” He flashes me a glib smirk.

I smile back, a little discomfited. “But you’re still choosing to sit.”