Page 37 of Gambler's Fallacy

He frowns at her, then meets my gaze again. I don’t know what their relationship is, but he grits his teeth and finally says, “Fine. One hundred and fifty for the white guy.”

I glare at him, but I pull the cash out of my wallet and hand it over, along with an additional seventy to cover Havoc and the women. “There.” I barely resist the urge to add,now move.

When we make it through the door, I’m blasted with the heat and humidity of hundreds of bodies packed together. The music is a dull drone in the background.

“Thanks, ladies,” Havoc says. “I’d tell you to save a dance for me, but…”

They both laugh, and the Latina woman shakes her head. “You’re too gay for that?”

“Just a bit. What gave it away?” Havoc asks.

“Please. If you’d been straight, you’d have grabbed my ass by now.” They both wave to us. “Thanks for letting us cut in line!” the Latina shouts before heading off to the main dance floor.

Havoc’s expression drops and he glares at me. “You’ve seriously never been to a club? You could have been friendlier to them.”

“We’re not here to befriendly,” I retort. “We’rehere to find Earl, and that means getting through that shit as fast as possible. I could’ve bribed him extra without dealing with the women.”

But I have a feeling that would’ve failed.

“Anyway,” I add before he can respond, “There’s no way he’s on the dance floor. So let’s have a look at where else he could be. You really think he’s using?”

“Caleb said he was in deep with somebody, and if you aren’t coming here for dancing or sex, the only thing left is, well, that.” Havoc heads in the direction of the bar, scanning the crowded floor.

Thanks to the woman’s tip, I’m keenly aware of the neon glowing wristbands I spot on some of the dancers. I would have assumed it was a simple accent piece.

I wonder how that works out for the innocent people who do decide to deck themselves out in glowing bracelets for the fun of it.

Havoc orders both of us drinks at the bar, which turn out to be simple ginger ales.

We both stand in relative silence, checking for Earl in this impossibly large crowd, when I notice several of the glowing wristbands going toward a back hallway. I tug on Havoc’s jacket and point.

He nods, sets the drink down, and starts walking in that direction.

It’s hard to be subtle with my size, and more than a few gazes turn in my direction. I realize when we get close that I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not familiar enough with the club scene to do this properly. I could intimidate or beat the information out of someone, but right now, we need finesse.

I mutter under my breath, then tell Havoc, “Find out if they’ve seen him.”

Havoc nods and approaches the two guards. It’s hard to make out what they’re saying, but whatever it is has Havoc nodding and gesturing in my direction.

After a bit of back and forth, Havoc waves me over.

“I promised him we’d buy in bulk,” Havoc says. “We’re stocking up for our boss’s birthday bash, after all.”

I nod. Hopefully, nobody will question it when we don’t actuallybuy anything. I’m not going to give the Clubs even more money all because of Earl. “Yep,” I say, distinctly aware of how difficult it is to play nice in situations like this.

It’s so much easier when I can hold up my fists and get people to do what I want.

The guard opens the door for us, and I step in before Havoc.

“How come you’re so good at… all this?” I ask Havoc as we go down the stairs.

Havoc laughs. “Look. There’s a reason I hate the Diamantes, all right? I had to learn how to navigate their shit. This isn’t any different.”

I eye him, but we don’t have time to discuss what grievances he has with the Diamantes. Instead, I focus on the door at the end of the stairs. Another guard is waiting there, but he must’ve already communicated with the two we passed because he lets us in without a word.

It’s like a whole other club down here. There are couches and low tables, with women draped over men and everybody seemingly having a good time. At least one table has a line of coke on it, while small tablets get handed around.

Most of the partiers are white guys, and I’d bet a good number of the women with them are being paid to be there. Calamity City really is the city of every vice under the sun.

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