Page 89 of Gambler's Fallacy

“Remember that it isn’t trulyrealitythough,” I say. “It’s curated for the most drama.”

The server comes to bring us our meals, a prix-fixe menu that rivals what my in-house celebrity chef offers. The first plate is a small serving of the appetizer.

Seven stares at it, a strange look on his face. “This is all?”

I smile at him. “Don’t worry. There are going to be seven or eight more plates, and by the time we’re done, we’ll both be full.”

He nods, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at it that has my smile fading.

“Seven?” I prompt.

He jumps. “What? Oh. Sorry.” He tries a bite of the cold scallop dish, and he seems to be mulling it over as he chews. “I don’t think I like this,” he says. “I like hot scallops but having them cold is weird.”

“The rest of it should be warm, at least until we get to the dessert,” I assure him. I finish my portion, and it’s as good as I expected it to be. The sauce is a bright flavor that melds well with the scallop, with just a hint of tang.

The next course, a butternut squash soup in a shooter glass, has him making a contented sound. “This is better,” he says.

The warm soup is the right blend of sweet and savory and creamy.

“If you like this, we should try cooking butternut squash soup at my place,” I suggest.

Seven looks skeptically at me. “Do you even know how to cook?” he asks.

“I’m sure it can’t bethathard, and I have a blender somewhere in the kitchen. I think I do, anyway. I’m sure Alice gave me one a few years back.” I try to remember where I stored that thing.

“If not, maybe I can get you one for your birthday. I mean, I know it’s your money and all, but…” He trails off, his brows furrowing. “Does it still count as a gift if you’re technically paying for it?”

“You’d be waiting a while for that,” I say. My phone buzzes, and Iput my hand on it but I don’t look at the screen. “My birthday was two months ago. Shortly before we met, actually.”

Seven stares at me then lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh. So Trent was lying to me. God, he’s such a dick,” he mutters.

“Trent lied?” I frown. “When? About what?”

“About it being your birthday soon.” He grits his teeth.

Before I can ask him more, the server returns with the next course, a mushroom stuffed with two different types of cheese and breadcrumbs.

Seven looks down at it, speaking before I can return to the topic of Trent, “You’re right about the small portions. I don’t know how many more of these little bites I can do, even.”

“Eat as much as you can or want, and don’t worry about the rest,” I answer. I’m still trying to figure out why Trent would have lied about my birthday. The only time the two had even interacted without me present was…

…Was the day Trent had called me, half frantic, saying that he’d caught Seven about to climb over the lounge balcony.

I eye Seven. I want to know more, but I don’t want to remind him about that day either. I’ll ask Trent instead.

“If you want to celebrate a birthday, I think Vortex’s might be next month,” I say. “When’s your birthday? I’ll add it to my calendar.”

Seven’s eyes narrow, but instead of looking at me, he pokes at the mushroom instead.

“It’s April 27th,” a female voice I don’t recognize says from behind us. “Isn’t that right?”

Seven goes deathly pale, and the fork clatters to the table as he loses his grasp on it. He hunches in on himself in his chair like he’s trying to make himself a smaller target.

I turn around to glare at whoever is intruding on our dinner. “This is a private party,” I say through gritted teeth.

The woman is dressed in a suit, and she holds up an ID. Itdeclares her to be a member of the Calamity City Gaming Commission, a Ms. Erica Reese.

“You’re a hard man to get a hold of, Mr. Spade,” Ms. Reese says, smiling. “I wish I didn’t have to intrude on your… date?” She pauses significantly before continuing, “But it really couldn’t wait.”

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