The Odds Read online

  The Odds

  Jeff Strand

  The Odds © 2020 by Jeff Strand

  Cover art © 2020 by Lynne Hansen

  LynneHansenArt.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

  For more information about the author, visit http://www.JeffStrand.com

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Books By Jeff Strand

  1

  Don’t do it, Ethan Caustin thought. Don’t you dare do it. You’ll hate yourself.

  He shouldn’t have even brought his credit cards into the casino. Hell, he shouldn’t have gone in here in the first place. He should have been the kind of person who learned from his horrible mistakes. The kind of person who didn’t lose several thousand dollars that he couldn’t come anywhere close to being able to afford. The kind of person who knew that “I’ll spend fifty bucks, maximum, and if I lose it all, I’m done” was a lie.

  This whole business trip was a mistake. The hotel where he was staying didn’t have a casino, but it was a quick walk to the nearest one. The trip wasn’t mandatory. They could’ve found somebody else to go in his place. Somebody who wouldn’t destroy their life.

  Don’t get a cash advance. Don’t take the card out of your wallet. Go back to your hotel.

  There was a 1-800 number displayed that he could call for gambling addiction. He wondered if they could talk him out of sticking his credit card into the machine the same way somebody on the other end might talk somebody out of leaping off a tall building.

  Leaping off a building didn’t sound so bad right now.

  Jenny was going to kill him.

  Or just be heartbroken. Give him a look of pity, or a look of disgust. She’d wonder how she had the misfortune of marrying a loser with absolutely no self-control. Gambling wasn’t even fun. It’s not like he was enjoying himself as he played the high roller slot machines. Sure, there was an adrenaline rush when he won, but the experience wasn’t fun. He could’ve spent way less and took a ride on the zipline.

  He needed to take another look at the note again.

  Normally he kept it tucked into his wallet, but he’d put it in his pocket after reading it several times since walking into the casino. A faded note on hotel stationary, written to himself eight years ago.

  Dear Ethan,

  This is to remind you of how utterly shitty you feel right now. The self-loathing might fade, but right now you’d give anything to be able to take it all back. Remember this feeling the next time you want to throw away money in a slot machine. YOU ARE MISERABLE.

  The note had worked in the past. Not today.

  He looked at it again.

  It was, of course, too late. The damage was done.

  Don’t get a cash advance.

  The conundrum here was that putting his credit card into the machine offered a chance for redemption. He could win it all back. And honestly, with as much as he’d lost, did a little more even matter?

  “Honey, I lost seven thousand dollars,” would not get him in less trouble than “Honey, I lost nine thousand dollars.” Ten thousand was worse, sure. That was a whole new level. But if he kept it under ten, there was no real difference between seven thousand and nine thousand. If he stopped now, he’d have to tearfully confess to Jenny that he lost the seven grand. If he kept going, he might not have to confess anything.

  It was ridiculous to stop now, when he could still fix this.

  His luck was bound to turn around. How long could his losing streak possibly last?

  He’d have to be an idiot not to get the cash advance.

  No.

  He was trying to justify further appalling behavior. He needed to quit now. He needed to walk right the hell out of this casino, call his wife, and tell her everything. She’d forgive him. He had a problem. He was sick. She’d have to forgive him.

  He slid his credit card into the ATM.

  Ethan sat on a stool in front of a slot machine he wasn’t playing, sipping a flavorless free drink. He wanted to throw up. He had quit before his losses topped ten grand, so at least he had that tiny little speck of self-control...though he hadn’t actually left the casino yet. There was still time to ruin his life even more.

  He set the drink down, stood up, and slowly made his way toward the casino exit. Wherever that was. They didn’t make it easy to find your way out. He’d call Jenny as soon as he left—he didn’t think it would be good for her to listen to his confession with the chimes and music of slot machines playing in the background.

  He could barely walk. He’d only had half a drink, though. At least he wasn’t an alcoholic.

  How the hell did he get out of this place? It was a frickin’ maze.

  “Hey,” somebody said to him.

  Ethan glanced over. It was a man, maybe thirty, immaculately groomed and nicely dressed in a dark grey suit. “Yeah?”

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” Ethan continued on his way, wherever that was. The man walked up next to him.

  “I can fix your problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “You look like you’re sick to your stomach. You’ve got haunted eyes. It’s not an uncommon look around these parts. You lost more than you can afford.”

  Ethan let out a snort. “You could say that.”

  “How much?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Five hundred?”

  “I wish.”

  “A thousand?”

  “I said it’s none of your business. I’m not interested in a high-interest loan, sorry.”

  “It’s not a loan,” said the man. “It’s a game.”

  “I’m all out of gambling money.”

  “There’s no buy-in.”

  “Then what’s the scam?”

  The man smiled and extended his hand. “My name’s Rick Murray. I’m play-testing a game that could recoup all of your losses ten minutes from now. No financial risk to you whatsoever. You will not lose another penny. Maybe I misinterpreted your facial expression and body language, but you look like somebody who is truly desperate. Am I wrong?”

  Ethan was silent for a moment. “No, you’re not wrong.”

  “Then come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “My office.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. This is becoming kind of creepy, so if you truly want to help me out, you can direct me to the exit of this funhouse. Otherwise, I’m not interested.”

  “Straight ahead, then left at the blackjack tables, keep going in that direction until you reach the wall, th
en take a right and go past the dollar slots until you see the exit to the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not taking you down any dark alleys or luring you into a basement,” said Rick. “It’s a small office two buildings down. Totally safe. If I meant to do you harm, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you somewhere with cameras all over the place.”

  “Still, it’s creepy. You have to admit that it’s creepy, right?”

  “I won’t go so far as to use the word creepy. I will concede that it sounds like a scam. But I’ll also say that if I were going to prey upon somebody, I’d go after a big winner, not somebody who just lost his life savings. You look emotionally destroyed. I wouldn’t be able to squeeze any more money out of you.”

  “Then it’s sex trafficking or something.”

  “I feel like any response to that could be taken as an unintentional insult.”

  “Like I said, I’m not interested. Thanks again for the directions.”

  “Not a problem. I hope everything works out for you.”

  Ethan started to walk away from him. Then he stopped.

  If he was on high alert, if he didn’t walk into a torture dungeon, if he didn’t sign anything, if he didn’t hand over any credit cards or identification...why not see what the guy was offering? Barring waking up in a bathtub with his kidneys missing, how could things get worse?

  He turned back toward Rick. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

  “Perfect. Follow me.”

  Ethan followed him out of the casino—his directions had been accurate—and out onto the sidewalk. They passed another casino, then arrived at the glass door of a place that looked like a fairly boring office building. He could see a front desk with a young receptionist seated behind a computer.

  Rick pushed the door open and walked inside. This didn’t look like the kind of place where people’s organs were harvested and sold on the black market, so he went in after him.

  “Hi, Mindy,” Rick said to the receptionist as they walked by her desk. She grinned at him. Definite affection between them but they weren’t sleeping together.

  They walked across the small lobby. Rick opened another door, which led to an office that looked like a place where a low-level employee might sell insurance. As they went inside, Rick started to pull the door shut, then left it open. “Don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he said, sitting down behind the desk, which had a computer on it but little else. “Have a seat.”

  Ethan sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

  “Can I get you anything?” Rick asked. “Water? Coffee?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “May I ask your name?”

  “Ethan Caustin.”

  “Pleased to meet, you, Ethan. I’ll get right to it. I’m inviting you to participate in a game. After each round, you can decide if you want to keep going, or if you want to quit. If you quit, you get to keep your winnings. If you continue, the prizes get bigger and bigger. Now I need you to be frank with me. How much money have you lost today?”

  Ethan saw no reason to lie. “Ninety-two hundred.”

  “And you don’t have that much stuck between the couch cushions, do you? The loss hurts. I see that you’re wearing a wedding band. How will your spouse take the news?”

  “Not well.”

  “Newlyweds?”

  “No. Five years.” It was actually twelve. Ethan wasn’t going to blab details of his personal life to some guy who might be trying to steal his identity.

  “Any kids?”

  “No.” Two.

  Rick nodded. “Let’s call your losses an even ten thousand dollars. What if I told you that I could offer you a 99% chance of winning that money back?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you.”

  “Fair enough. I wouldn’t believe me either. But that’s exactly what I’m offering. In the first round of this game, you’ll spin a wheel with one hundred numbers on it. If it lands on the numbers one through ninety-nine, I will immediately deposit ten thousand dollars into your bank account or, if you prefer, hand you an envelope full of cash. All of your anguish is erased, just like that. You’ll walk out of here a new man. 99% chance. Forgive my unprofessional language, but those are pretty fucking good odds.”

  “And if I land on the wrong number?” Ethan asked.

  “We break your arm.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We break your arm. Like I said, there’s no financial risk on your part, but yes, if you spin the wheel and it lands on the number zero, we will break your arm.”

  Ethan pushed back his chair. “Well, screw that.”

  “Really? You won’t risk a 1% chance of a broken arm for ten thousand dollars? Ethan, when I first saw you, you looked like you wanted to slash your wrists. You looked like you wanted to shove the barrel of a revolver into your mouth and blow your brains out. Isn’t a broken arm better than having your brains splattered all over the wall of your hotel room?”

  “Do you get paid extra for being so melodramatic?”

  “I can’t see into your mind or your heart, so maybe you’re fine with the way things played out for you today. If so, you’re welcome to leave. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here in Las Vegas.”

  Ethan wasn’t quite ready to leave. “How do I know it’s fair?”

  Rick stood up. “Let’s go into the game room.”

  They left Rick’s office and went into the room next door. It was bigger than the office but not by much. A brightly colored wheel of about three feet in diameter was mounted on the far wall. Next to it was a chair with a strange contraption on the armrest.

  “That’s our wheel,” said Rick. “One hundred possible numbers. The one you don’t want is zero, which you can see is dark red on a black background. The designer wanted to add a skull, but we overruled him. You spin the wheel. Anything but zero and you’re instantly ten thousand dollars richer.”

  “How do I know the wheel isn’t rigged?” Ethan asked.

  “You mean with a magnet or something?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m told that every single player we’ve brought in here has asked that. And the answer is: it’s not, but we can’t prove it, so we can make whatever accommodations you want. You can roll a pair of ten-sided dice. You can write the numbers zero through ninety-nine on slips of paper and draw one out of a hat. Any fair way you can think of to generate a random number, we can work with. We’re not here to con you. I promise you will have a 99% chance of winning the money.”

  “Sounds too good to be true. How can you afford to give out that much cash?”

  “We’re extremely well-funded.”

  “How about this?” asked Ethan. “You write down a number. You fold it up and give it to me. I guess the number. If I’m right, I lose.” He didn’t see how they could manipulate that. Maybe a stage magician could figure out a way to do that trick, but they couldn’t fake him out without any prep time.

  “That would add an element of psychology to it,” said Rick. “You wouldn’t just pick a random number; you’d try to figure out what number I wouldn’t write down. But for the first game, I’ll allow it.”

  “You’re very easygoing about this.”

  “We want you to win. It’s no fun for anybody if you quit after the first round.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Before you officially commit, I’ll explain how the chair works. You’ll sit down and place one of your arms—obviously, if you’re right-handed we recommend choosing your left arm, and vice-versa—on the armrest. In the extremely unlikely event that you lose, I’ll press a button, and that very heavy iron block will slam down onto your arm, hitting it right below the elbow. It will smash your forearm into that deep groove in the armrest, breaking it in at least two places.”

  Ethan stared at the armrest for a moment. “So it’s a horrific arm-breaking.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s not a hairline fracture. Your arm will be broken.”

  “I don’t think I
’m interested.”

  “I’m not here to simply hand you free money. There’s an element of risk involved.” Rick walked over to the door and called outside. “Mindy? Could you bring me two of the introductory envelopes?”

  Mindy stepped into the room and handed Rick two thick yellow envelopes. He thanked her and she left. Rick sat down in the arm-breaking chair and tore open one of the envelopes. He pulled out a large stack of twenty-dollar bills.

  “Five thousand dollars,” he said. “Our game is for ten thousand, so you’ll get both of these if you win. Or, like I said, we can do direct deposit. Do you have a banking app on your phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You can verify that the money’s there before you leave. Do you feel like you have all the information necessary to make your decision?”

  “I guess so, sure.”

  “Then I hate to do this to you, but it is a game, right? The offer expires in sixty seconds.”

  Damn. Ethan hadn’t expected that. He didn’t want to stagger out of here with a shattered arm from the Bone-Crushing Nightmare Machine. But there was only a 1% chance it would happen. A 99% chance that his problem would be solved. A 99% chance that he’d escape a devastating fight with Jenny. A 99% chance to chalk his gambling losses to a moment of weakness, and vow to never let it happen again. He’d get his note to himself tattooed onto his chest.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m in.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Rick stood up. “Looks like it’s time for you to win some money. Have a seat.”

  2

  “Do I have to sit in the chair now?” asked Ethan.