Page 28 of Gambler's Fallacy

“It’d be fine if Seven were willing to do something more than sleep,” Caleb says. He meets my gaze, and I shrink back from him. “You’re my pet, and my responsibility. And for some reason, I want you to be more than a simpering slave for me.”

I don’t know what to make of that.

He shouldn’twantthat from me. He should be happy that I’m always there when he wants to fuck me, shouldn’t he? Maybe that’s the real issue. Maybe it’s that I’m spending time in the casino and he’s gone upstairs and expected to see me there.

“But I don’t want to be busy when you want me,” I try. I look at Vortex, silently pleading with him to step in and back me up, but he doesn’t. I let out a frustrated sound, then say, “I’ll do something other than sleep. I’ll watch TV. I’ll try one of those games.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to be trapped up here all the time,” Vortex says, and I hate how gentle his voice sounds.

I grit my teeth. “It’s different if I choose to.”

The suite is larger than twenty-one steps. It isn’t the same at all. I don’t even know why I was so worried about it before. Walls are safer than the outdoors.

“Pick one, Seven. Housekeeping, admin, or stage hand,” Caleb says, this time in a much more dominant voice that has me shuddering with either need or fear — I’m not sure which.

“I’ll go backstage,” I mutter, recognizing a losing battle. At least if I’m backstage, I don’t have that much attention on me. I’ll be more anonymous. And maybe I can sneak off before too long. “How long do I have to stay?”

Caleb shares a glance with Vortex. “Somebody will pick you up for lunch.” After a small pause, Caleb adds, “But you are allowed to use the phone to contact us if you’re afraid.”

I nibble on my bottom lip, finally pushing the barely-touched plate away. “The whole morning?” I ask, unable to hide my dismay.

“It won’t be bad,” Vortex tries to reassure me. “Look, I’ll even stay with you for the first half hour or so while you get used to things. I’ll take you to the queens’ area. Some of them come in early. Della Mortay might be there already, too.”

I scowl at him. “That’s cheating,” I mutter. I haven’t had a chance to get to know many of the others, but I’ve run into Della a few times around the casino, and she has never made me feel like a burden.

Vortex shrugs, not looking repentant at all. “It’s not so bad doing other things,” he says. “And you can make friends. Maybe you can see if there’s another show you want to go to.”

“I’ll let the relevant people know.” Caleb stands up with his phone and taps on it. “Go get ready so Vortex can take you.”

I shoot one last glare at him before turning and stalking out of the room, feeling like an angry cat. If I had a tail, it would probably be doing that swishing thing Miss K’s does when she gets especially annoyed with Nacho.

I go to my room, wondering what they’d do if I flopped on the bed and refused to move. It’s tempting to find out, and I eye the comfortable bedding with longing. But I’ll get bored before long, and the familiar panic of being trapped might overwhelm me.

Besides, what if they actually leave me here alone, like Caleb had the night I’d panicked?

I shudder. No. No, I don’t want to be left alone, not really, so I go to the closet and grab a casual t-shirt and jeans. I brush my teeth and my hair, not quite stalling, but not hurrying, either.

When I finally emerge, Caleb is gone, and Vortex gestures to my shoes by the door. “Come on. We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.” He doesn’t sound upset, but it still makes me wince.

“Yeah,” I say, going over to put my shoes on and tying them in a neat bow.

I let Vortex lead me to the elevator, and we head down into the hotel, then through the casino to get to the doors leading backstage. I cast a longing look in the direction of the tables, but Vortex and Caleb had been serious about making me doother thingsbefore letting me go there.

Screw them both,I think, but I’m more sullen than angry.

Vortex leads me backstage, and I shuffle closer to him as we pass all the people milling around.

I freeze when Linda approaches us. She’s the event manager, a tall, middle-aged black woman with long curly hair and thick-framed glasses. Linda smiles when she sees us and waves her clipboard at us. Her nails are different from last time, but still long and impossibly sharp.

“Seven, hi! Caleb told me you’d be my assistant for today,” Linda says. “That’s great, because my usual assistant called in sick.” She bends two of her fingers twice when she says the word “sick,” and I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

Vortex laughs though, even though it sounds like it’s from very far away. “So, a hangover?”

I force a smile because if Vortex is laughing, it has to be funny.

“I hope it’s a hangover and not because of any stronger drugs,” Linda complains. “I guess she’s got sick days though, so we can’t do much about it. I’m just waiting for her to show up high for work.”

My smile freezes on my lips. What would they do? Would they punish her?

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