CHAPTER 35: CHAPTER 35: EXTRA C AND HAIL CAPITALISM (2)

The cherry atop the chocolate sundae was sinking. It drowned slowly in the white sludge of melting vanilla ice cream, a tragic death for a piece of fruit that had likely been preserved since the last decade.

Across the booth, Lia dug a long plastic spoon into the mess. She looked like a cat that had just cornered a mouse and decided to play with it before the kill. Short hair, cut just above her shoulders, framed a face that was pale enough to reflect the neon lights of the diner.

She was beautiful, in the way a poisonous flower was beautiful. You wanted to touch it, but you knew your fingers would turn black and fall off.

"You’re staring," Lia said. The spoon went into her mouth. She didn’t break eye contact.

"I am wondering how you can eat that sugar bomb," I said. I lifted my cup. It was a paper cup, filled with black Americano that tasted like regret. I was regretting it. Maybe some cream next time to make it smoother?

"It’s 4 PM," I said.

"Sugar is brain fuel. You should try it. Maybe you wouldn’t be so gloomy."

"I’m not gloomy," I said. "I’m realistic."

"Potato, po-tah-to."

We were sitting in a booth at a small cafe a few blocks from Aversque Boulevard. It had been a few days since the incident on the stairs, since I had grabbed her hands and asked for her help. The recruitment of a new member to gamble was complete. I was against gambling, but well morals are meant to be flexible.

And Lia too was no less. She had grinned. A wide, sharp grin.

"Alright, partner," she had said. "Let’s rob the house."

Now, her phone was flat on the sticky table between us. My phone was next to it. The Vangels website was open on both, glowing with the promise of easy money and inevitable ruin.

"Ready?" Lia asked.

"As I’ll ever be."

To easiest way to hit the $10,000 wagering requirement to enter the Platinum Lounge, we needed volume. And to get volume without losing my entire life savings, we needed wins to balance the losses.

I tapped the screen. Roulette.

"Black," Lia said.

"It’s been black four times in a row."

"Exactly. That’s a good streaks. Bet black."

I placed the chips. Fifty dollars. A significant chunk of the balance I had scraped together.

The digital wheel spun. The ball clattered over the pixels. It bounced, skipped, and landed.

Black 14.

"Hah," I let out a breath. "Witchcraft."

"It’s just skill," Lia corrected, swirling her spoon in the chocolate soup. "And a little bit of intuition. You overthink it, Abel. You look at the patterns and try to find logic in a random number generator. You have to feel the flow."

"It’s a computer program. There is no flow. Just an algorithm."

"Algorithms have rhythm too. Someone wrote them. Humans are rhythmic creatures."

She took my phone and tapped the screen. Blackjack this time.

The stakes were higher. We were cycling money through the system. Win a hundred, bet a hundred. Lose fifty, bet fifty. The balance hovered, dipped, then spiked.

"Why do you need this, anyway?" Lia asked. Her tone was casual, light, but her eyes were sharp. They bored into me, dissecting. "Ten thousand dollars in wagers. That’s a lot of effort for a high school student. Even for one as... unique as you."

I took a sip of the bitter coffee. "Research."

"Research?"

"Sure. Sociological study on the impact of digital gambling on adolescent minds."

Lia snorted. It was an unladylike sound that made her seem almost normal. "Liar. You have that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"The look of someone hunting. You had it when you looked at those thugs in the arcade," Lia put a hand on her chin and tilted her head. "You’re chasing something, Abel. Or someone."

I didn’t answer. I looked at the screen. The dealer had a 19. I had a 20.

"Reasons," I said finally. "Just reasons."

Lia stared at me for a second, then shrugged. "Mysterious. I like it. Reasons it is."

She pointed at the screen again. "Side bet. Perfect Pair."

"That’s a sucker bet, Lia. The house edge is massive."

"Just do it. I have a feeling."

"Your feelings are going to bankrupt me."

"Do it."

"What about her?"

"She’s annoyed," Lia said. "The player in seat three keeps taking too long to hit. She tapped her finger twice on the shoe."

"So?"

"So, she’s rushing. She’s going to deal fast. Mistakes happen in rhythm." Lia tapped the ’Side Bet’ option. Perfect Pair. "Bet it."

"That’s a sucker bet. The odds are terrible."

"Bet. It."

I sighed. I placed ten dollars on the side bet.

The dealer swiped the cards.

Queen of Hearts.

Queen of Hearts.

A golden animation exploded on the screen. 25 to 1 payout.

"No way," I muttered. My balance shot up. We were actually making progress.

"told you," Lia smirked, going back to her sundae. "Never doubt the vibes."

The balance shot up. We were getting closer.

Lia smirked. She finally finished her sundae, scraping the last of the chocolate syrup from the bottom of the plastic cup. "It happened because I am pretty cool."

"That makes zero sense."

"Results, Abel. Look at the results."

I was looking. My balance was healthy. The wagering requirement bar was filling up. 60%.

"Hey," a voice grunted from above.

I snapped my head up. Two guys were standing by the booth. Older, maybe college dropouts. They wore jerseys that had seen better days and smelled like stale vape smoke.

"That’s a nice win," one of them said, eyeing my phone. "Vangels, right? I play that."

I instinctively locked the screen. "Just a game."

"Didn’t look like play money," the other one said. He leaned in, his shadow falling over Lia. "You got a system, kid? Maybe you share it."

Lia didn’t even blink. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh, it’s not a system," she said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming breathy and scared. "It’s my dad’s money. He’s... he’s in the mafia. He makes me wash it."

The guy blinked. "What?"

"Yeah," Lia whispered. She pointed at me. "He’s my bodyguard. He has a gun in his boot."

I kept my face perfectly still. Stoic. Dead-eyed. I slowly moved my hand beneath the table, as if reaching for something near my ankle.

The two guys exchanged a look. It was a ridiculous lie. It was absurd.

"Right," the first guy said, backing away. "Cool. Whatever."

They walked off, heading for the exit.

I looked at Lia. She burst out laughing.

"The mafia?" I asked. "Really?"

"It worked, didn’t it? You have a scary face when you want to, Abel. Use it."

I shook my head. "Let’s get out of here. Too many eyes."