Page 32 of Gambler’s Ruin (Calamity City Mafia #3)

EIGHTEEN

SEVEN

Connie stands awkwardly in the doorway, peering into the dressing room. Duncan—halfway into becoming Della—is adjusting the dress that I’d helped tailor for her.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” Della says to Connie. “We don’t bite.”

One of the other queens says, “Speak for yourself. I’ll bite all I want.”

Connie giggles and takes a step closer. “Okay. Thanks for letting me shadow Seven. And I love the dress, it’s fabulous.”

“The rhinestones took forever to add,” I say, feeling shy for bragging about my contribution but also beyond proud that I’d not only managed it, but that they look good, too.

“And they look great,” Della says. “You can’t ever have too many rhinestones.”

I smile at her. I like the sparkle they add to the dress, and it shimmers in the light as she moves. It’s going to look even better on stage beneath those lights, but even back here, it shines.

“Wow, that looks like it took a lot of work,” Connie says. “I think my fingers would cramp up after a while.”

“It’s hard work, but Seven didn’t complain once,” Georgie says, flashing a smile at me. “Even when he burned his fingers with the hot glue gun.”

Honestly, I’d sort of liked the feeling, but I’m not going to tell any of them that. “Next time, I’ll sew them on,” I promise, even though they look a lot better than I might’ve expected when I’d first seen the myriad of sparkling rhinestones and a hot glue gun.

“Cool.” Connie looks around the room. “How can I help?”

“Well, if we’ve got two gofers…” Charlotta says. She bats her eyelashes at us. “How about you two darlings go grab snacks for me and Della? I think the catering staff left sandwiches and drinks in the other room.”

I smile at her. “Done,” I promise. “Only roast beef, no turkey.”

“That’s right, honey. I like red meat,” Charlotta says with a smirk.

I snicker, then shoot a glance at Connie. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t seem offended. “Sure thing. Sandwiches and drinks, coming right up.”

I show Connie where the break room is with the catering table. The staff must have dropped by recently because the table is still fairly full.

“Are we allowed to eat some of this too?” Connie asks as she starts piling things onto a plate.

I nod. “I usually grab a few snacks on the go when they’re really keeping me running around. Sometimes there’s more interesting stuff, but mostly, it’s sandwiches and chips and things. Grab what you want.”

I make sure we have Della and Charlotta’s favorites, then grab their drinks.

“We can come back in a sec to grab something for ourselves.” I pause, lingering. “Are you okay with all of this? I know I sort of dragged you into it.”

Connie gives me a look. “ You dragged me into this? I’m pretty sure Sebby begged you to let me come along so I’d learn what ‘real’ work is.”

I wince. “He’s only trying to help,” I tell her. “And it’s not really like real work. It’s fun.” It has its stressful moments, but it’s better than I imagine working on the casino floor itself has to be.

“It’s still doing menial work for others,” Connie says, her lip twitching. “That one drag queen got off on ordering us around. She probably has you hopping to her command every chance she gets, right?”

I frown at her. “You mean Charlotta?” I’m not even sure what had been so bad about asking for food. “She’s just hungry, and she still has to put her face on. She’s still kind of new, so she’s slower. And it’s what I’m here for.”

“But don’t you want to be in charge of yourself?

” Connie sets the plate down and reaches for the chips.

“I tried this stuff, right? The working 9-to-5, jumping at other people’s orders, getting paid next to nothing while the people above me raked in the cash for my hard work.

Why should people like Caleb Spade earn millions while we’re scraping for pennies? ”

My brows furrow. “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I don’t understand why some people get paid so much more than other people. I never really thought about it, though.”

I’m grateful to make anything at all, to have my own spending money. I know I’m lucky not to have to worry about paying rent or buying food, but what Caleb pays me still feels like a lot. I stay busy, but none of what I do actually feels like work.

“Yeah, guess it’s easy when you’ve got a sugar daddy or two,” Connie says darkly.

I tense. “It’s not like that,” I snap at her. “It’s not like I’m fucking them for money.”

Connie scowls at me, then she shakes her head.

“No, I know. Sorry. I’m… ugh. It’s not you.

I was chatting with my TerMa friends, only they’re on my case about not selling enough and my numbers going down, and I’m going to get bumped down a level if I don’t keep up, except I literally can’t keep up and I haven’t sold anything for weeks and I don’t even like most of the crap they sell! ”

That’s because it is crap, but I don’t tell her that.

Instead, I shift uncomfortably, trying to think of what to say. I don’t know anything about MLMs beyond what Caleb had derisively said.

It sounds like she was being set up for failure, and I understand that more than I want to admit.

“Before this,” I find myself blurting out, “I was… in a really bad way. Like, really bad. I was struggling to get by, and I’d have done anything to get by.” I had done anything to get by. “I know you want to be your own boss, but isn’t that exhausting ?”

Connie looks at me, and in a small voice, she answers, “Yes. It’s never ending. I’m treading water, Seven. But if I quit, I’m proving to Sebby that I’m a failure. I don’t want to be a failure.”

I bite my bottom lip. “I think… that he would be really proud of you if you stopped doing something that’s hurting you. He wants what’s best for you, Connie. He loves you.”

I wonder what it feels like to be loved.

“He’s done… he’s done so much. And I know he’s been supporting me financially.

I’m not stupid .” Connie laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, I know what you all think of me. Oh, Sebby’s dumb sister, who fell into another…

another…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Another scam. Poor Sebby, always bailing her out.” When she opens her eyes, there are tears on her lashes.

“I don’t want to let them be right either.

I can’t let somebody like Caleb Spade be better than me. ”

I want nothing more than to flee. I don’t know how to comfort someone, least of all someone like Connie. It’s easy to be savage, to think of her as spoiled and unappreciative, but I remind myself that she’s been through a lot, too.

I guess losing her parents young wasn’t much better than having parents who didn’t care at all, but at the same time, I’m so envious of her for having had Vortex .

“Is there anything you’d want to do?” I ask tentatively. “Like…” I wrack my brain, but I can’t think of anything at all. “Like if you had to dream, what would you dream? What would make you happy? That’s all Vor— Seb— your brother wants for you, you know?”

Connie looks down at the floor. “Before Mom and Dad died, I thought I’d go to college and be some sort of biologist. I was really into animals and science and stuff. But I can’t do that anymore. Kind of lost interest. I don’t know. There’s nothing .”

I haven’t even done regular school, let alone college, even though Caleb suggested it once. I rejected it, mostly afraid of failing miserably, but maybe I haven’t been looking ahead enough.

I’m the last person on earth to give advice to someone about jobs , though, and careers.

My future is still uncertain, and my job is the least of my concerns.

“What do you think you can tolerate, then?” I ask tentatively. “I know you don’t want to give up, but Connie, you sound exhausted and sad.”

Connie shakes her head. “No clue at all.” Then she looks up at me with a big, fake smile. “But I bet those queens are waiting for their food! And there’s way more fun topics to talk about. Like, what did you get Sebby for his birthday?”

I feel like I should say something else, something meaningful, but I can’t think of anything.

“I’m taking him on a date,” I tell her, feeling awkward because it sounds so dumb, and a date would still be better than what I actually have planned.

I let out a self-conscious laugh. “I’m going to let him pick something because I didn’t want to get him a snowglobe he’d have to pretend to like. ”

I don’t know what my obsession with them is now, but ever since I picked one out with Lori, I just like them. They seem so magical.

“That’s nice,” Connie says. “I got him a dutch oven, so he can make mac and cheese at his place.” She lifts up the plates with the food. “Okay, they’re going to dock your pay if I slow you down any more.”

I know they’ll understand, but I’m grateful for the reprieve. “Yeah. Grab something for yourself if you want. You can eat while I see if they need me to run around a little more.” I glance at my phone. “Oh, except Vortex is going to take us to lunch later.”

“He’s paying? Even though it’s his birthday?” Connie bites her lip. “Fine, I won’t spoil my appetite.” She looks me in the eyes. “You won’t tell Vortex about anything I said, right?”

I shake my head. “No,” I tell her. “But I hope you will.”

Without waiting for an answer, I turn, leading her back toward the queens’ dressing area.

“I thought you’d gotten lost!” Charlotta chirps. She’s made progress on her makeup, but it’s at the point where it looks like it’s never going to turn into anything pretty. The process seems so complex.

I wonder what I’d look like in drag.

I bring her plate to her. “Well, if someone wasn’t picky,” I say. I still feel weird teasing her, but it always makes her smile.

I like seeing her smile because of something I said.

“I’m not, and I still had to wait,” Della declares. Her makeup already looks impeccable, but that’s no surprise.

“I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m really not. I feel weird that Connie confided in me, but at the same time, I hope it’s a turning point for her. She deserves to be happy. Vortex deserves for her to be happy, too.

“It’s my fault,” Connie says, bringing the food over to Della. “Don’t blame Seven for anything.”

Della takes a sandwich, but she stares at Connie. “Honey, is something wrong?”

Connie smiles. “What? Why would it be?”

“Your mascara is bleeding.” Della grabs a tissue from the nearby vanity and hands it to Connie. “You want a touch-up? I’ve got waterproof mascara that’ll hold up a lot better.”

“Oh my god, that’s embarrassing.” Connie takes the tissue and dabs it along her eye. “Seven! You should have told me.”

“I didn’t notice,” I tell her, wincing. “I’m sorry. Della can fix it before Vortex gets here, though.”

Vortex doesn’t need the stress of knowing his sister was crying.

Della sets her sandwich aside and gets closer to Connie. “That’s right. Let me fix you up, sister. Nothing worse than splashing your face by accident and messing up your look.”

Connie giggles and gets into position so Della can redo her makeup. “How did you know what happened?”

I’m relieved that Della isn’t calling her out on crying, but I think it’s obvious.

The two of them chat, and my thoughts wander back to the conversation I’d just had with Connie. Maybe I do need to start looking at the study guides for the high school equivalency tests, but then I’d have to admit that I’m not even at that level.

It’s beyond embarrassing.

Della helps Connie with her makeup, and Georgie sends me to grab a backup costume from the costume room. It’s harder to talk to Connie while we both scurry around helping prepare for the show. We manage to get everyone presentable and finish up just as Vortex comes to pick us up.

“Hey, Sebby!” Connie greets.

Della waves to Vortex and mimics, “Hi, Sebby.”

Vortex rolls his eyes. “Hi, Della,” he says. “How’s my least favorite performer?”

Normally, it would make me smile to hear them tease each other, but right now, it’s hard to muster up the amusement. I go to Vortex, wrapping my arms around him. He returns the hug, kissing the top of my head.

Connie picks up her garish tote bag and hefts it over her shoulder. “You ready for your big, embarrassing birthday lunch?” she asks, smiling.

“Wait, it’s Vortex’s birthday?” Della gets up and sashays over, careful not to mess up her costume or makeup. “Honey, you should have told us! Charlotta, come here so we can sing happy birthday for him.”

Charlotta shakes her head. “I’m on in fifteen minutes, I’m not messing up my voice now.”

“You lip sync out there! You don’t need your voice!” Della argues.

“I don’t need to hear either of you singing,” Vortex says dryly, keeping me against his side. “And we’re going to be late for our reservation. So spare me. Seven, you’re not going to let them sing to me, are you?” He nudges me.

“I don’t know,” I say, forcing a smile. “I think it would be fun to see you squirm.”

Vortex groans. “Traitor.”

“Get out, stop distracting everybody,” Georgie says, but she smiles while she says it. “Happy birthday, Vortex.”

I’ve been doing my best to ignore the whole ‘birthday’ part of the day, but hearing them repeat it over and over has my mind going back to the story I’d told Caleb not long ago. I want to celebrate this with Vortex. I want to make it special for him.

I want to make it so that when I think of birthdays, I think of theirs, and not my own.

“Thanks, Georgie,” he says. He squeezes me then lets me go. “Ready, Connie? Or are you going to embark on an adventure on stage?”

Connie gives an awkward laugh. “No thanks. I can already imagine the kind of reaction I’d get from the crowd.” That statement makes Vortex frown, but before he can say anything, Connie tugs on his arm and pulls him toward the exit. “Come on. I’m dying to see you open the present I got you.”

I wish I’d gotten him something tangible, something he could open, but I think he’ll like the time we have together alone even more.

“I’m scared to find out what it is,” Vortex says, letting himself be pulled along even though he could easily stop her. I follow behind them, trying not to let my thoughts go in the downward spiral they’re threatening to go in.

I can do this.

I can get through lunch in one piece.

I can show Vortex how much he means to me.