Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
HAVOC
I head to the event hall, frowning at my phone. There’s no new message from Seven, and he’s late for lunch again. My stomach is tied up in knots, thinking about where he could be. Caleb was vague about the threat he’d received, but I know Seven’s been freaked out all week.
“Hey Havoc!” Della Mortay says from her dressing room. “What brings you here?”
I stop in front of her open door. “Oh, hey. Have you seen Seven? I was supposed to meet him today.”
Despite his protests, Seven’s been going to work diligently. I’m glad for it, because it gives him something to focus on that isn’t all the craziness.
“He didn’t tell you?” she asks, her brows furrowing. “He told Georgie he wasn’t feeling well this morning.” Worry briefly crosses her features. “I hope he’s doing all right. He’s been leaving early all week.”
I clench my fist. “I’m sure he’s around.”
But nobody else in the event hall has seen him. Georgie even shows me the timesheet she had Seven fill out to mark that he was leaving early.
“So he’s been gone for a few hours already,” I say, worry rising up inside me.
“You sure he isn’t at, uh, home?” Georgie asks tentatively. “Um, he’s Caleb’s boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah. I was picking him up for… for Caleb,” I answer. I realize I don’t know what people know about this whole arrangement we have, but there’s no way these people haven’t noticed Seven going home with three different men. Seven never hides his affection for us either—and I wouldn’t want him to.
“Thanks,” I say to Georgie, before heading back out into the hall. I check my phone, and there are still no texts from Seven. I grimace and dial Caleb.
He picks up almost immediately. “Yes?”
“Is Seven with you? I was supposed to meet him but I can’t find him,” I say. “If he’s with you or Vortex, that’s fine, although you could’ve texted me.”
There’s a pause, then Caleb says, “He’s still in the casino. Call security and have them check the cameras.”
I don’t know how he knows Seven’s still here, but that’s a relief. I hang up on him and call the security staff. After a brief back and forth, they let me know Seven is at the blackjack tables—the one that’s out of the way, not visible when wandering through the casino.
I sigh in relief, although that’s quickly replaced by annoyance.
I make my way to the out-of-the-way blackjack table.
No wonder I hadn’t spotted Seven when I’d come through here earlier. He tied his hair back and he’s wearing a Roi de Pique baseball cap. He grabbed a sweater from the gift shop too, which is baggy on him and makes his frame look larger.
The dealer, Nat, sees me first, and my expression must give me away because they glance warily at Seven before saying something to him .
I can see the way Seven tenses even with the oversized sweater, the way he sits a little straighter.
Nat shakes their head and says something else. I only catch the tail end as I approach, “—to be here, Seven?”
I pull a chair closer and sit down next to Seven. “Hit me,” I say with a growl.
Seven flinches and edges away from me. “Havoc,” he says, his voice strained. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” Nat says, nervously glancing from me to Seven then back. “I can’t deal you in. You’re an employee,” they tell me, like I don’t already know that.
“Oh? Then why’d you deal Seven in?” I ask. “He’s an employee too.”
Nat blinks at me. “He is?”
“Havoc,” Seven says quickly, “it’s fine. I’m not really an employee.”
I swivel my chair to glare at him. “Yes, you are. But Georgie said you left early, and then somebody else mentioned that you skip half the time! What the hell?”
“It’s not like I’m getting paid,” Seven says, and I’m surprised by the vehemence in his voice.
“What are you talking about?” I argue. “You’ve been getting several hundred bucks per day—for doing way less work than most people do, by the way.”
Nat doesn’t look like they want to be anywhere near this conversation. They’re still holding cards in their hand, and they say, “I’m going to take my break.”
Seven gives them a plaintive look, but Nat shakes their head.
“No, Seven,” they say. “This isn’t my business.”
“We’re in the middle of a game,” Seven pleads. “Nat…”
“I’m sorry, Seven, but this really isn’t something I need to hear,” Nat says, and while their voice is gentle, it’s firm too.
“I was worried about you, you know,” I say once Nat is gone. “You didn’t show up for lunch—again—and you didn’t respond to my texts.”
“I’m sorry,” Seven says sullenly. He looks down at his cards, throwing them onto the table. “Thanks for ruining everything, Havoc. Now they’re not going to let me play anymore — and it’s Caleb’s money, not mine..”
“What?” I’m honestly confused now. “We can open a bank account for you, Seven. Hell, I bet Caleb’s already got a savings account and he set up a 401k or whatever for you.”
“He can’t do any of that when I don’t exist,” Seven says. “No birth certificate, no ID, no anything, remember?” He lets out a harsh laugh. “And I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to. No one would let me.”
My frustration bubbles up even more, but I focus on breathing. I can’t lash out at Seven, because I’ll make things worse.
“Seven,” I say, fumbling for the right words. “What’s the real problem? I thought you liked working with everybody. Did Caleb do something? I’ll kick his ass if he did.”
“No,” he says, staring down at his cards. “No one did anything. I just didn’t feel like working.”
He’s lying, and I know he’s lying, but getting him to admit the truth when he’s shutting down like this is always hard.
“Okay.” I extend my hand out to him. “Let’s go, Seven. We can have lunch, and after that I’ll take you to my apartment or we can find a movie or a museum or a show or… anything.”
Seven gives me a strange look. “Did you already forget that I can’t?” he asks, only to shake his head. “Never mind. I want to hang out here. I was doing really well, Havoc. I won the last two rounds. I was going to win this one too if you hadn’t interrupted.”
I reach over to the cards that Nat left on the table. That was unprofessional of them, but I assume they were too keen to leave to clean up. I turn over the cards, and reveal the king of spades.
“You would have lost, Seven,” I point out .
“Okay, so maybe I would’ve lost that round, but not the next,” he insists. “I almost have the hang of this whole counting thing.”
I highly doubt he does. “Seven, what is this really about?” I ask as carefully as I can.
“It’s not about anything,” he says. “I just like playing. You get your hobbies. Why don’t I get mine?”
“My hobbies are working out and playing video games,” I point out. “I used to gamble so I could make a modicum of rent money, and I barely managed that. You aren’t winning at anything, Seven. The only way to win at blackjack is to know when to quit.”
“I know when to quit!” Seven snaps at me, his voice going high. “I also know that I’m never going to get anywhere if I quit too soon. God, Havoc, stop being such a jerk about this.”
I recoil at his vehemence. “What the fuck, Seven? I’m looking out for you. This is unhealthy. Did you remember to get food? Something other than the peanuts and pretzels they hand out to all the gamblers?”
“I ate this morning.” He glares at me. “It’s only lunchtime. It’s not unhealthy. I’m still way under my allowance for the day, if you’re worried about Caleb’s money.”
“I don’t give a shit about Caleb’s money,” I snap back. “I care about you , Seven. How long has the secret gambling thing been going on? It wasn’t only today.”
“Secret what?” he demands. “I’m not doing anything in secret.”
“No? Then why didn’t you tell us about it? Why did you disguise yourself so I wouldn’t see you while I was scanning the room?” I counter. “You knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this.”
“I’m not—” he sputters. “Just stop, okay? I don’t want to talk about this.”
I reach out for his wrist, but Seven gets off the chair and skitters back a few steps. That hurts more than I’m willing to admit.
“Seven. Come on. Let’s go back upstairs. I’ll make us some sandwiches and we can talk about it, but you can’t keep sitting here and gambling away the days,” I plead .
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeats. “And you don’t own me. None of you do. I don’t care what you put in my body. Don’t you keep saying I belong to myself? That I get a choice in things?” He’s half into panic mode, I can see it, but I don’t understand why.
“What are we putting in your body?” I ask, even more confused than before. I get up and slowly take a step toward him.
He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” When I shake my head, he goes on impatiently, “The tracker?”
I laugh. “Tracker? What, in your phone? You can turn that off. I’ll even show you how.”
Seven gives me another of those weird looks. “The one in my leg doesn’t turn off, remember? That’s why it’s better than having it in my phone or whatever?” he says, like he’s trying to prompt me. Then his eyes widen slightly, and he says more slowly, “You’re not seriously telling me you don’t know.”
My eyes go down to his legs, but he’s wearing loose jeans. My mind is still trying to parse what he’s saying. A tracker in his leg.
“A tracker,” I repeat, dumbfounded. “What? When?”
He clams up instantly. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I reach out, and this time I don’t let him evade me. I grip his wrist through the oversized sweater. “No. Tell me. What tracker?”
I squeeze harder than I mean to.
“You’re hurting me,” Seven says, squirming in my grasp.
I’m about to speak again when I hear footsteps behind me. I half-turn, still holding onto Seven, when I see Vortex approaching at a jog.
“What’s going on?” he asks, looking between the two of us in alarm.
“A tracker in his leg?” I ask while Seven keeps trying to escape me.
Vortex shakes his head. “We’re not talking about that right here. Is that what’s going on? Seven, you should’ve told me you were upset. I thought we talked about this.” He glances around us. “This is making a scene. Upstairs. Now. ”
Part of me wants to make a scene. Whatever they did to Seven, it messed him up bad. I’m so fucking angry that I want to punch somebody—preferably Vortex or Caleb.
But seeing Seven’s panicked expression, I know it’s not going to help if I flip out now.
I let go of his wrist and take a few long breaths. “Okay. Let’s all go upstairs. I really want to know what the fuck you two did to him.”
Vortex’s jaw sets hard. “Yes. Upstairs.” He goes to slide an arm around Seven, but like with me, Seven moves away. He starts heading toward the hotel, though, even though he has his arms hugged against his chest.
I glare at Vortex, but he’s already following Seven.
I’m inwardly raging, and it doesn’t help that others are in the elevator with us, making the trip upstairs seem to take forever.
As soon as we’re inside, Seven starts to make a beeline toward his bedroom, but Vortex grabs his arm. “Caleb is on his way, too,” he informs us. “Seven, go sit down.”
“Oh, good,” I mutter. “Let’s see how Caleb talks his way out of this one.”
“There’s nothing to talk his way out of,” Vortex says, letting go of Seven. Seven goes to the couch, sinking down onto it, but his expression is dark. “Yes, we put a tracker in Seven’s leg after the Lockwoods tried to force Caleb to agree to hand him over.”
Everything comes to a screeching halt.
While I’m processing this new information, the front door opens and Caleb lets himself inside.
“The Lockwoods were here?” I ask, looking between Vortex and Seven. “What the fuck? Did they touch Seven? Are you okay?”
Seven shudders, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares down at the carpet, hugging his knees against his chest.
“Yeah, she actually physically touched Seven. In public,” Vortex says, and his voice vibrates with anger, too. “Then tried to threaten Caleb over the whole fucking MMA fight. Like he’s really going to let Seven go anywhere with them.”
Caleb coughs. “Before you get too excited, Havoc, it was a light touch. She scared Seven, but she didn’t harm him. Still concerning, of course.” He loosens his tie as he approaches us. “So we decided it would be safest if we could always track Seven. I’ll share the app with you too, Havoc.”
“I don’t want your fucking app!” I shout at him. “What the fuck! You realize how fucking creepy this is? You’re tracking him like a fucking animal!”
Vortex glares at me. “We’re aware he’s not a fucking animal,” he snaps. “But his safety is more important than anything else.”
Through it all, Seven stays quiet, still huddled there on the couch like he’s scared we’re going to turn our attention onto him next.
I crouch down in front of Seven. “Hey, Seven. Look at me. Please, tell me the truth. If you want to get rid of the thing, I’ll take you out of here right now and we can have a doctor cut it out.”
“It’s fine,” Seven mumbles. “I don’t… I don’t care about the tracker.”
He should care about the tracker.
Except part of me is already thinking about how much anxiety it would have saved me if I’d been able to locate Seven instantly earlier today. I wouldn’t have had to wonder if he was still on premises, or if he’d been stolen away.
“Seven,” I say, a lot softer. “If the tracker isn’t the problem, then what is?”
“You trying to control me!” he bursts out, anger and frustration warring in his voice. “Everyone trying to take away the one thing that makes me feel better.”
“Is this about the gambling?” Vortex asks from behind me, but my attention is solely focused on Seven.
“Trying to control you?” I repeat, confounded. “Seven, we want what’s best for you. Well, I do. I guess I can’t speak for these assholes.”
“If it’s about the gambling…” Caleb sighs and sits down next to Seven. “How many times did you go to the tables this week, pet? ”
“It doesn’t matter,” Seven says, wiping furiously at his eyes, where tears have begun to trickle down his face. “Why are you all acting like this is such a big deal? It’s not!”
“It is,” I say, every single one of Seven’s tears piercing my heart. “Seven, did you notice me approaching today?”
Seven hesitates, glancing behind me at Vortex, then back to me. “No,” he sniffles. “But Nat did!”
“Would Nat recognize anyone from your old life?” Caleb asks. “Would Nat know to warn you so you could get away?”
“I’ll sit on the other side of the table next time,” Seven says.
“You’re missing the point,” Vortex says, his voice more subdued. “Seven, this is causing serious problems in your life. We’re doing all we can to keep you safe, but none of this is safe or even healthy.”
“When you’re gambling, you’re hyper-focusing on the cards,” Caleb says. “You aren’t paying attention to anything else, like your environment.”
“Or your health,” I add. “You need to eat, Seven. Hell, you need to move! Sitting in that chair doing nothing but breathing in the stale air is bad for you.”
“Why can’t you let me have this one thing?” Seven demands. “You don’t get it. I have to do this. I have to win. I can’t not win.”
Caleb, Vortex, and I share a look.
“Why can’t you not win?” I ask. “It’s statistics. I didn’t win all the time either, Seven, and I knew the math behind the cards.”
“Because my luck has to change. It has to.” He sobs, and it shakes his entire body. “It can’t be this bad forever. I can’t have the worst luck forever and ever.”
“You don’t have the worst luck,” Vortex says, reaching out to try to touch his arm, but Seven jerks away.
“You aren’t listening. You’re just not. You keep saying they won’t get me, but they will. Because my luck is that bad. But maybe if I turn it around, maybe they won’t. If I can do one thing right, maybe other things will go my way. They have to,” Seven says, openly crying by the time he finishes speaking.
Well, fuck.
It’s not that I don’t get it. When I was at my lowest, I sometimes dreamed of how my life would turn around if I could earn enough money to escape my life. But the gambling was only ever a bandaid. The real problems were always there—they’re still there, in the form of my mother and her refusal to leave the Step Asshole.
The only thing that had helped was meeting Seven, getting my own place, and finally stepping away from that mess.
Seven doesn’t even have the option to step away .
“Pet,” Caleb says, more gently. “Remember what I told you? The house always wins. You need to negotiate from a position of power. When you’re putting all of your cards onto this one single game, you’re giving the house—and your past—all the power. You can’t rely on luck. It’s cleverness and your own ability that got you out of that situation in the first place.”
“But they are the house,” Seven whimpers. “If I can’t even beat the casino, how am I supposed to beat them?”
“This isn’t their city,” Vortex points out. “And none of this is a game of luck. You have a lot more resources at your disposal now. Besides, you beat them once already.”
I nod in agreement. “Right. You walked out, remember? You made the move, and you outsmarted them.”
Seven finally looks up at us, his face blotchy and red. “I just want them to leave me alone,” he whispers. “I want to have something . I was theirs for so long—” He hiccups.
“That’s the thing,” Vortex says quietly. “It’s driving them crazy that they can’t control you. That you might have a good life without them. They’re probably telling themselves all sorts of lies to justify it.”
Cynically, I think that we might be telling ourselves a lot of lies to protect Seven, too.
“My uncle,” Caleb suddenly says. “He used to own the casino. Every chance he could, he’d complain about how much work it was, how it was a drain on his finances, how much he hated it, that it ruined his marriage. I finally convinced him to sell it to me. When I turned it around, when I made it better, suddenly he was there, complaining that I’d essentially scammed him, that it was his hard work that made all this possible. He’s resented it ever since. He can’t stand that I took something he ruined and made it better.” He removes the baseball cap from Seven’s head and sets it aside. “Your family thinks they made you, and they can’t stand the fact that you’re thriving without them.”
Seven shakes his head. “But I can’t even thrive. Because I’m always so scared.”
“You will, though,” Vortex says, moving to sit on the other side of Seven. “Caleb’s going to get it sorted out, and you’ll be safe, then you can do more than survive.” He kisses the top of Seven’s head. “We’re getting there.”
“But,” I add carefully, “I think you do need to quit gambling, Seven.”
Seven tenses. “I don’t want to,” he says.
“It’s time to make your own luck,” Vortex says. “No more gambling. We’ll build you a life so worth having that you won’t even want to gamble. Please let us, Seven.”
I nod, and finally stand up again so I’m not squatting in front of Seven. My knees thank me for it. “We can do any number of things. Watch more shows, head to that mall with the indoor theme park, some fucking mini golf for all I care.”
Vortex’s expression gets weird. “What about the gym? We’ve got a pool, too.”
“And after a workout, you can always go to the spa,” Caleb says. “The facial treatments are very relaxing.”
My lip twitches, imagining Caleb with cucumbers on his eyes and weird cream all over his face. It does remind me of something, though. “Does Seven get paid for his work? Y’know, so he can tip the spa staff. ”
“Yes,” Caleb answers immediately. “I have a separate bank account set up where all of his wages get deposited.” He pauses. “It has a credit card attached to it. Do you want me to give it to you? It won’t work for gambling, but you’d be able to buy things with your own money.”
Seven squeezes his eyes closed. “Havoc says I’m getting overpaid for doing nothing,” he mutters.
Vortex and Caleb both glare at me.
I groan and hold up my hands. “No! I mean, if anyone’s getting overpaid, it’s probably me. But I was pissed that you skipped our lunch to gamble instead. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Seven opens his eyes and looks at me. “I’m sorry.” He swallows hard, brushing at the lingering tears that have yet to fall. “I don’t know if I can stop. I… I tried. I really did. But I kept doing it anyway.”
“Since you want to stop, it won’t be an issue at all that I am now officially banning you from all the tables,” Caleb says. “The only spending money you’ll have is what you earn—which is not too much. You’re essentially earning a bit over minimum wage, Seven.”
Now I scowl at him. “Seriously? You need to pay him more than that! That’s not a living wage in Calamity!”
Caleb scoffs. “It’s a living wage when it includes free room and board, and when his only expenses are a few knick-knacks here and there. We can look at his hourly rate again in a few months, like we would with all employees.”
“I don’t even know what minimum wage is,” Seven says. “Or how to do… bank things.”
“I’ll teach you,” Vortex says. “There are apps for your phone that can help, too.”
Seven slumps back against the couch, and Vortex carefully slides an arm around his shoulders. “Okay.”
Caleb stands up and stretches. “All right. I’ll call down for food. Since I think we’re all starving at this point.”
“That’ll take forever,” I say. “Here, I’ll make us some sandwiches. Do you want to help me, Seven? ”
Seven nods. “Yeah, I guess.”
I offer my hand, and he takes it, letting me help him up. He presses against me briefly and leans in so I can kiss him.
“Thanks,” he says quietly.
I’m not sure what he’s thanking me for, but I smile at him. “You’re welcome, Seven.”