Page 56 of Gambler's Conceit

I sigh. I don’t know what to do about her. I don’t think she’s suddenly going to learn to be responsible, but I can’t just leave her out to dry either.

She doesn’t know how much I make—hell, she doesn’t even know what I do for the Spade Family—but she knows it’s not an insignificant amount.

And she knows her big brother won’t tell her no.

Much like Seven, she has me wrapped around her little finger.

I take my time, not wanting to seem too eager, but I still have to get through Calamity City traffic. It means I’m still early when I get up to Caleb’s penthouse, but Seven is already dressed. He’s wearing a simple button-down shirt and a pair of trousers, ready for a night out.

I’m surprisingly nervous as I nod to him. “Ready?”

He gets up, sliding on a pair of nice shoes that are worlds better than the flip-flops he usually wears. “So we’re going to a drag show?” he asks, sounding dubious. “I wouldn’t have expected you to like something like that.”

I bark out a laugh, for all that I feel self-conscious about it. “Yeah, well. Surprise? Did you eat already?”

Seven nods. “Caleb told me you wanted to go straight to the show. But it doesn’t start for another few hours?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, still a little off-balance. “I thought you might want to meet the performers.”

He blinks at me. “You what?”

“The performers. The drag queens,” I clarify. “You’re shut up in here all day, and a few of them hang around on their off time. So… I thought you might want to meet a few of them.”

Seven’s surprise is palpable, but he shakes it off quickly enough but for a slight grin before he throws himself into my arms. Surprised, I wrap them around him, squeezing him tight. “That would be amazing,” he says with considerably more enthusiasm than he’d shown when I’d first walked through the door.

This is already going better than his date with Havoc, I hope, which has me feeling slightly smug. He’ll come out of this with friends if everything goes according to plan, which is better than the funk he’s been in since he’d returned from the circus show with Havoc.

“Let’s go then. We’re a little early, but it should be fine.” I squeeze him again, then let go of him. He surprises me again by looping his arm in mine, and he tugs me toward the elevator. I chuckle and let him pull me along. “All right, all right. We’re going.”

“I’ve never been to a drag show,” Seven says when we get into the elevator. “I’ve seen it on TV a few times.”

“Yeah? Since getting here?” I ask, trying for casual.

For once, he doesn’t start to act cagey about the nosy question. “Yeah. I caught a few episodes on one of those streaming things, and it was…” He frowns and trails off, then shrugs. “Anyway, I thought it was cool. I just didn’t expect to see them live.” He tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Is this too plain, do you think?”

I shake my head, warmed by his reaction to my plan. “Nah. You look good.” The compliment is easy to give. He always does, and now is no exception.

I lead him through the casino while he starts to talk about the episode he’d seen, where the drag queens had had to use materials from a bathroom for a runway look. I chuckle at his descriptions, shaking my head.

“I’d be completely useless at something like that.” I elbow him in the side. “What do you think? Could you make something using a bath poof or whatever?”

“Only if I just had to cover my nipples and my cock,” Seven says with a snort. “Nothing fancy with that towel fabric.”

I try to imagine a dress made out of terry cloth and fail. I start to ask him what they did manage to do, but we arrive at the backstage door before he can answer. “Here we go,” I tell him. “Right through here.”

The guy at the door knows me and waves me in, and I nod to him.

Seven is nearly bouncing at my side, and I lead him down the hall. The space between the doors is massive, but I hear the bustling and chatter as soon as I open the right one. It takes them a moment to spot us, but as soon as they do, one of the queens waves to us.

I glance beside me to see that Seven is utterly gobsmacked. He stares with wide eyes around the room, drinking in the sight of the rampant chaos, and I nearly puff out my chest in pride. I did this. I made him happy. I put that hopeful look in his eyes.

Not Havoc, not Caleb.

Me.

The stage manager, Linda, is flitting between the different performers. She’s a tall black woman in her fifties, with long curly hair and nails to rival those of the drag queens. She smileswhen she spots me and walks over. “Hey, Vortex. Caleb said you might be coming.” She glances at Seven. “And who’s this?”

“Hey, Linda,” I greet her. “This is Seven. He’s…” I don’t want to call him Caleb’s boyfriend, and I definitely can’t call him mine. “He’s a friend.”

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