Page 113 of Gambler's Fallacy

Okay, that had been the wrong thing to say, apparently. I file that away, trying to figure out a different line of conversation.

Thankfully, the bartender sets our drinks down in front of us while I’m still thinking. The mimosa Connie ordered is bright orange, which I hadn’t expected from an alcoholic drink.

I quickly pick mine up so I can taste it. It’s not great, but it’s not terrible, either. I wonder what her brightly-colored drink tastes like.

“That’s great,” I say. “Did you want me to text Vor— your brother? He probably got caught up in work.”

“Not really.” Connie twirls the straw in her drink, then takes it out and sucks on the end. “He’ll tell me, again, that I need to change my life, and honestly, I was kind of dreading meeting with him today. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him.” She sighs loudly. “He gets all high and mighty sometimes, y’know? Like he’s sooo perfect and he knows what’s best for everyone.”

I think about the tracker that I should resent. He’d been the one to bring it up, though for all I know, it had originally been Caleb’s idea.

Then I think about the way the three of them had ganged up onme to tell me I can’t gamble anymore, and my own expression sours. “Yeah,” I say with more sympathy than I expected to feel for her. “But I guess he means well.”

I down half my drink, wondering if she’ll let me get another when I finish this one.

“If you say so.” Connie drops the straw back into the glass, but she scowls at it. “These paper straws suck. Ugh. Anyway. Sebby. It’s not that I don’t get it. He really stepped up when our parents passed. But sometimes, I want him to let me figure out my own life, y’know? I’m not a pet he can order around.”

I bite back a hysterical laugh. Yeah. She isn’t some pet. Not like me.

“I don’t think he thinks you’re a pet or anything,” I say, peering down at my glass, which is almost empty. I’m already starting to feel the effects, though. The bartender must’ve poured mostly rum with only a little bit of soda, and I had been running late enough to where I’d only grabbed a granola bar to eat for breakfast.

“He thinks I’m still the kid he half-raised,” Connie says bitterly. “But he hasn’t figured out that he isn’t my daddy. He’s my brother.”

I nearly choke on the last sip of my drink. I start to cough, and she pats my back. “No,” I wheeze. “No, he’s not.”

But he ismyDaddy, for better or for worse, and I have to trust that he and the others know what’s best for me… even if I disagree.

Connie takes a long sip of her drink, then sighs. “Anyway! You’re dating him. I shouldn’t talk bad about my brother. He’s a good guy, and if he’s happy with you, maybe he’ll stop getting all up in my life instead.” She laughs about that, but the laughter dies quickly. “You aren’t cheating on him, are you? Sebby said you weren’t, but I saw you with another guy.”

I wish I hadn’t finished the drink just because it had been there.

“I’m not cheating on him,” I tell her, but I don’t know how to put the truth. It’s not really my place to tell her. At the same time, I have a feeling she’s not going to let this go. “It’s complicated,” I say feebly.

“Yeah. Guess it’s none of my business.” Connie sits up straighteragain. “But I’m gonna remind him of that the next time he judges my choice in boyfriends.”

“He really does mean well,” I repeat, gingerly touching her arm. It’s not much, a brief tap more than anything, but it’s the best I can muster. I should’ve texted Vortex or Havoc to let them know I was going to the bar, but it’s not like they can’t find me.

I swivel around in my seat, trying to spot one of them, but I freeze when I see a familiar face among the patrons of the bar.

The man from the night of the fight is sitting toward the back. He’s trying to appear casual, but when our eyes lock, he lifts his glass in a mockery of a toast. He downs the rest of his drink, then in what appears to be slow motion, he leaves the bar.

He wanted me to know he was there.

He wanted me to know I was being watched.

A strangled sound escapes me, but I don’t even realize I’ve made it until Connie speaks up.

“Hey, Seven? You okay?” Connie asks quietly. She reaches out to touch my wrist.

I yelp and recoil, nearly falling off the bar stool.

Connie flinches. “Jesus, what the hell?”

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I need… I need to go.” But do I? If I leave, he’ll be in prime position to grab me. “Wait. No. I need?—”

I open up my text messages, going to my group text with Caleb, Havoc, and Vortex. I quickly type out a message.

Saw the man from the fight!!! In the bar with Connie.

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