Page 19 of Gambler's Fallacy

“Are these your own design?” I ask cautiously.

Connie giggles. “No, silly. These are from the TerMa line. TerMa makes handbags out of 100% vegan leather, with ethically sourced materials.”

“Isn’t vegan leather just plastic?” I ask.

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Um, I think I’d know if my handbag were plastic. Anyway, the point is. This is the next big thing. My TerMom—she’s mentoring me—is setting me up with stock for the business. I already got last season’s line, but…”

TerMom.

Last season.

“Connie, please don’t tell me—” I start with dread.

“I need a loan so I can buy the current line,” she finishes, smiling brightly at me.

“A loan,” I repeat, like I couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. I don’t even know how much money I’veloanedher that she’ll never be able to pay back as she flits from one get-rich scheme to another. “Connie,” I begin as gently as I can manage, “Do you think that maybe it’s time to try… another line of work? One that doesn’t require loans?”

Her smile drops a bit. “Sebastian, come on. This’ll be way faster. I’ll pay you back in like, a month. Each handbag retails for about two hundred bucks. I only need to sell twenty of them and I’ll be raking in profits hand over fist.”

“Connie…” I begin, only to stop. The likelihood of her selling twenty of those purses for two hundred dollars each isn’t likely at all. Telling her that will upset her, of course, and I didn’t agree to dinner to destroy her dreams. “I can get you a job at the casino,” I offer. “Ca— Mr. Spade is always hiring, and I think you could do a good job here. It might take longer, but it would be a steady paycheck.”

She scoffs at me. “Uh-huh. And then I’d be a wageslave to a guy who takes advantage of gambling addicts. I have more dignity than that. I’d much rather be my own boss.”

A wage slave. There’s another one I don’t have words for.

“I get that you want to be your own boss,” I say, trying for empathy, “but it would just be… on the side. Until your business kicks off.”

Connie shakes her head and gives me her usual mulish expression. “Sebby, I’ve got an opportunity right now! Gina—my TerMom—is going to cut me an amazing deal on the product, but I know those bags are going fast. I have to be on top of the trends, and not be peddling last season’s—or worse, lastyear’s—designs.”

If I was a praying man, I’d be praying for patience.

I sure as hell need it when dealing with my little sister.

“Okay, but let’s think about the casino idea,” I tell her. “You can get a job part time, then when your business really takes off, you can quit.” Caleb would not thank me for trying to pawn my sister off on him, but surely he owes me a favor or two by now.

Connie rolls her eyes at me. “What job would I get? Cleaning staff? No thanks. And I’d have to deal with all the drunks and the addicts who sit there for two days straight without showering.” She makes a gagging sound to accentuate her disgust.

“It’s notthatbad,” I say. “Or you can work in one of the restaurants! You can be a waitress, or a bartender even. Please, Connie.”

But I can see the stubborn way she’s looking at me, the way her jaw is set and her eyes are defiant. She’s not going to let this go, and the only way I’ll hear the end of this is if I shell out the cash.

Maybe this time she’ll actually be successful, but I doubt it.

It feels shitty, to not have faith in my own sister, but she’s gone from one scheme to the next, always hoping this will be “the one.”

It never is.

“Anyway,” Connie adds, “Rent is due tomorrow, and I’m a bit short.”

No wonder she wanted to have dinner with me.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow that she mostly wants money from me, but I should know better by now.

“I mean, I’ll figure it out if you aren’t helping. I’ll probably have to live off of cup noodles and whatever the nearby coffee shop hands out at the end of the day.” Connie pushes her food around on her plate. “You know, a homeless guy tried to fight me for a croissant once?”

“You have never been hungry enough to fight a homeless guy for a croissant,” I say, positive of that much. “Connie, how much are you asking me for? First the purses, now rent…”

“It’s not that much. You’ll barely notice,” Connie says. “Just three grand. And I’ll pay back every penny once I’ve got my business established.”

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