In the first-floor grand hall.
Accompanied by the swelling notes of Christmas music, the captain of the Poseidon—a man with deep bronze skin—delivered an impassioned speech he had clearly rehearsed dozens of times.
With a proclamation that essentially boiled down to "let the music play and the dancing begin," the stage was turned over to the performers. Well-prepared waiters began moving in synchronized lines, bringing exquisite dishes to the tables.
Locke and Gwen didn't sit at the "kids' table."
Actually, that's not quite right. Technically, they were kids. But here, the four of them were seated at a table with Jennifer and Robert.
Cindy lowered her voice. "Locke, did you really win nearly a million dollars?"
She hadn't been upstairs earlier. She and Kahn had found a changing room for a "quick round" of their own. She had to—the guy clearly had too much energy, and if he was going to the pool to look at girls while having a girlfriend like her, she needed to teach him a lesson.
Locke shook his head. "No."
Cindy looked at Gwen and blinked.
Locke added with a smile, "Ten thousand was my own stake. So, I only won nine hundred thousand."
Cindy: "..."
'Is this even human language?'
Listen to that. "Only won nine hundred thousand."
Good grief. We came on this ship to spend money, and you came here to treat it like a career?
Kahn's eyes were shining. Locke caught the look and glanced at Cindy. "Envious?"
Cindy nodded.
Locke shrugged. "Don't be. Generally speaking, the people who get envious of this stuff end up jumping overboard."
Cindy: "..."
Gamblers. In the beginning, they all think it's fast money. Then they fall in, and they are eventually swallowed by the sea of debt—pitiful people who aren't worth the sympathy.
Locke had no interest in gambling. Aside from a few trips to Vegas when he was short on cash to make some pocket money and leave, he stayed away. He had self-awareness.
As he said before, he couldn't even quit drinking; why would he mess with something even more addictive? Besides, his "wins" weren't even exciting to him.
Because he knew his luck. It was constant. While 5 points of Luck wouldn't make him stumble upon a treasure chest in the middle of the street, it ensured that in a game of winners and losers, he wouldn't be the loser. Playing when you already know the outcome... where's the thrill in that?
As for Dylan, the pro? He played by counting cards. When his brain was running a mile a minute doing math, he didn't have time for the adrenaline to numb his mind.
...
Over a dinner filled with laughter, George called.
Gwen picked up, chatted with Helen for a bit about the ship's highlights, and then her eyes lit up. She spoke to George: "Dad, you won't believe who I ran into on the ship. Uncle Ramsey!"
George sounded pleasantly surprised. Gwen covered the phone and looked at Robert. "Uncle Ramsey, my dad wants to talk to you."
Robert wiped his hands, smiled, took the phone, and greeted George before walking out of the restaurant for a more private chat.
Gwen blinked at Locke as Robert left. "I hope Uncle Ramsey doesn't sell you out."
Locke chuckled. "He won't."
Robert had lost money too. There was a high probability he wouldn't tell George about an embarrassing incident involving himself.
In fact, Robert didn't say a word.
However... after hanging up, George rubbed his chin and looked at his wife with a laugh. "Did we have the wrong impression of Locke?"
Helen, who was sipping a $300 bottle of wine George had recently bought, blinked. "What?"
"Locke drinks."
"And?" Helen laughed. "He's sixteen. How could he not sneak a drink? Didn't we start sneaking drinks at sixteen?"
George shook his head. "Not me."
Helen gave him a knowing look.
George remained expressionless. "I was fourteen when I started on the vodka!"
Helen couldn't help but laugh. "Impressive, Mr. Stacy."
George laughed along. "But that's not the point. The point is: how does Robert know Locke smokes and drinks?"
Helen shrugged. "What's so strange about that? He saw him. Last month for your birthday, Locke gave you a box of cigars, and you said you were going to 'collect' them."
George shook his head. "No, no. Locke must have been at the gambling table."
"Did Robert say that?" Helen asked curiously.
"No," George said. "It's a deduction by a professional detective."
Helen: "..."
George knew Robert loved the cards. Their friendship was partly based on the poker nights Robert used to organize. Since Robert mentioned he had been playing cards all afternoon, the only place he could have seen Locke smoking and drinking was at a table.
After hearing her husband's deduction, Helen blinked. "Did Locke lose?"
George paused. "Is that the point?" Shouldn't the point be that Locke's perfect persona had crumbled?
Helen shrugged. "It's just teenage restlessness. Besides, a boy has to learn to smoke or drink eventually. To be honest, if Locke had zero bad habits, didn't smoke, and didn't drink, I'd be more worried about his relationship with Gwen."
(T/N:- I feel attacked.)
One had to admit, Helen's perspective was always unique.
George opened his mouth to argue, then gave up. "He probably won."
"Why?"
"If Robert had won and Locke had lost, Robert would already be teasing me over the phone."
"...True." Helen laughed, imagining Robert's real personality behind that stoic face. She looked at George. "Then what are you worried about? Winning is better." She added, "Besides, Locke is more mature than his peers. He has self-control."
George thought about it and nodded. Little did Helen know, on the very first day on the ship, Locke had tossed that "self-control" out the window.
...
George and Helen weren't the only ones talking about Locke.
Tony Stark and Happy, who had each lost about $400,000 to him, were also discussing him. They were dining in a private room—just Tony, Happy, and Pepper. As for the model Tony had brought? She had already been packed onto a helicopter and sent back to New York that afternoon.
"Locke Broughton!"
Tony looked at the information on his tablet, pausing at the "Age" column. He laughed. "Sixteen. Interesting."
Happy chimed in, "It is interesting. Losing to a sixteen-year-old kid."
Tony shot Happy a look. A normal bodyguard wouldn't be eating with the boss, let alone Tony Stark. But Happy was different. Not every portly man named Happy has ties to the Stark family.
Tony looked back and handed the tablet to Pepper. "Is there still a spot open for the New Year's Eve game?"
Pepper nodded. "There's an executive from a Texas oil group..."
Tony interrupted. "Forget him. Invite this Locke kid."
Pepper blinked.
Tony smirked. "A loser isn't qualified to know the winner's name, huh? Send him the invitation."
Pepper frowned. "Tony, he doesn't have that much money."
Tony's goatee twitched as he looked at her. "Then isn't that even better? I'll win it all, then give the money back to him."
Pepper: "..."
'Loser? I was born a winner.'
Tony recalled Locke's words at the table. For some reason, even though it was their first meeting and the kid was only sixteen, Tony had an urge to take a scalpel to that handsome face that rivaled his own.
...
The next day.
"Huh?"
Locke stood at the door, looking at Pepper Potts. He took the invitation she offered, opened it, and looked up at her. "A New Year's Eve poker game?"
Good grief. Wonders never cease. Locke always thought the trope of people lining up to get their faces slapped only existed in internet jokes, novels, or movies.
He didn't expect it to happen right in front of him. Did Stark feel that losing $400,000 wasn't enough? Was he looking for an opportunity to give him even more money?
Gwen leaned in to look at the invitation and blinked. A private game with Tony Stark.
"Is this considered top-tier networking?" she asked curiously after Locke accepted and closed the door. "Even if you just play a little and stay disciplined, it could expand your connections."
In the US, networking was powerful. A recommendation letter for college was proof of that; even with lower grades, a heavy-hitting letter could get you into top schools. It was even more useful in business. Having a vast network could make everything twice as easy.
Even if it wasn't "top-tier" connections, small ones were useful. For instance, if Gwen were ever caught for a minor infraction, she had a "Family Card" from the NYPD. As long as she didn't provoke the officer, she'd be fine.
Locke flicked the invitation onto the sofa and pulled Gwen into his arms. He smiled. "Why think so much? There are still a few days left. We'll decide when the time comes."
Gwen: "..."
***
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