65. Tess
TESS
I was still riding high off the orgasm the next morning. As Nash got busy making waffles and Blade flipped through the TV channels, I sank back into the couch with a smile, scratching between Butch’s ears.
Even Cyrus perma-scowling from the opposite end of the couch wasn’t enough to bring down my mood. She never needed an excuse to be grumpy, but she’d certainly use my joy to justify herself anyway.
I hope the bitch heard us last night. Give her something to frown about.
But while I was on cloud nine, the Freaks’ minds were somewhere else entirely.
Nash frowned. “Could he have had another source of income? Something Tracer would have missed?”
“Tracer doesn’t miss shit.”
They hadn’t stopped thinking about Rubin since our run-in.
It had been several days, but the encounter with Jane had put everyone on edge.
I wasn’t sure if they thought that Rubin was connected to her, or if they just needed something more solvable to fixate on, but the constant speculation was harshing my vibe.
“Tithes?” Blade continued flicking through the channels. “From his livestream lackeys?”
“A lot of money for a beggar,” Cyrus grumbled. “Plus, anything digital would be traceable.”
“Maybe he just made some smart investments.” I shrugged, hoping they might drop it.
Cyrus didn’t bother looking my way. “Nothing would accrue that quickly.”
“Some things might.” I bristled.
“Like what, a wishing well?”
“Like daytrading,” I huffed. “That Lionshare app says you can make 30% returns on your investments. I saw a video of a woman who makes like $95,000 per month there.”
Blade scoffed, “Yeah, if you inside trade maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those markets are rigged for people who already know the outcomes of their bets.”
“How could they…?”
“Take a senator, yeah?” Nash piped in from the kitchen. “There are bets all the time about what kind of events they might be at. Maybe they’re not participating in Lionshare’s bets. But their staffers might be.”
“That’s illegal, no?” I furrowed my brows.
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. That shit is barely regulated.”
“It’s just the lottery with more steps,” Cyrus scowled. “He’d have better odds at a casino.”
I shrank back into the couch, mind reeling with how much money I’d sunk into contracts on Lionshare. I thought that I was losing because I just hadn’t studied the market hard enough. But was it possible that the game was rigged against me from the start?
“What’s wrong?” Blade looked back at me over her shoulder, eyes narrowed.
“What? Nothing.” I cleared my throat.
Clearly I wasn’t convincing though.
“You’re pale as a sheet, Sweet Lamb. Spill.”
My skin went clammy as I tried to find the words to explain.
But Cyrus was on it first. “Did you—?”
“I was just trying to make the most of my earnings,” I spat out. “It was supposed to just be a couple of small investments.”
“Investments?” Cyrus’ eyes darkened.
In the kitchen, Nash nearly dropped a plate. “How much did you lose?”
“...Most of it.”
Blade visibly paled. “Oh, Trinket. We could have helped you…”
Hot frustration prickled at the corners of my eyes. “Why are you all acting like I killed someone? I’m already embarrassed enough without the theatrics.”
“No, you’re right,” Nash murmured from the kitchen. “We’re just worried about you is all. You were trying your best, though. It’s okay.”
“It certainly isn’t fucking okay.” Cyrus was on her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the TV.
“What are you so fucking mad about?” I glared. “It’s not like you care what happens to me.”
“I don’t care about you, I care about my fucking money.”
“Your money?” I scoffed.
But her expression only darkened. “Mine. Just like everything else in this park. I’m not paying you to flush my cash down the drain on some gambling racket.”
“No, you’re paying me to entertain you.”
“God,” she roared. “I fucking wish you were entertaining.”
The jab had barely landed before she wheeled to face Nash and Blade, seething. “If your plaything wastes any more of my money, you’re dead. Figure it out.”
And with that, she stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Nash frowned at the door. “I don’t know why she’s like this.”
“Beats me,” Blade murmured. “But I call dibs on her share of the waffles.”
“What a fucking bitch,” I scoffed. I was still trying to wrap my head around her outburst, the utter entitlement of it all.
But where I hoped to find allies to my complaints, I only found concerned glances. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
Blade looked to Nash, who sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to lose the money. But next time, come to us for help, yeah?”
Hot anger flared in my gut. “Are you seriously taking her side?”
“Not taking sides,” Nash held up her hands.
“We all know that Cy is a hothead.” Blade chimed in.
“I just… want to make sure you get the most out of your money if you win again.”
“If?” I scoffed. Nothing they were saying was too out of line, but Cyrus’ rage and my own bruised ego had me entirely on edge. “Whatever. I’m done talking about this.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Trinket…” Blade leaned back, reaching for my ankle across the couch, but I shifted away from her.
“I’m not being like anything.”
“You don’t have to talk about it any more right now if you don’t want to, but just do me a favor…
” Nash pulled out her phone, and a second later, my phone buzzed with a text.
“Take a look at that website when you’re feeling up to it.
They’ve got some great financial tips for beginners, and some stuff on investing too.
If you don’t want our help, that’s okay, but at least now you’ve got somewhere to start. ”
“No thanks.” I grumbled, keeping my gaze locked on the TV screen.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Blade and Nash exchange an exasperated look before deciding to drop it. My relief was underlined by a twinge of disappointment as Nash went back to her cooking and Blade went back to her channel surfing.
They’re only trying to help.
And clearly they knew something that I didn’t. This apartment, the fancy cars, the cash they carried — the wealth was coming from somewhere, and it didn’t seem to be Cyrus’ alone.
Once their attention was fully diverted, I picked up my phone, trying to keep my face casual as I clicked on the link.
The Break the Bank website’s big, bold banner popped across the screen, followed by a syllabus of free educational videos and many blog posts promising a free, non-judgmental place to learn about managing your money.
Bookmarking the tab for later, I closed out the website and returned my attention to the kitschy nineties gameshow Blade had finally settled on. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I knew that I needed the help. And I was grateful that they were willing to offer it.
Not that they needed to know it.