Pepper Potts watched Gwen, who was looking at Locke with clear affection, and internally shook her head, dismissing the thought that had just crossed her mind.
"Please, have a seat."
"Thank you."
Pepper snapped back and smiled, inviting Gwen to join the circle of ladies, introducing her to the wives of the successful men in the room. Gwen carried herself with poise and grace. Pepper couldn't help but steal a few extra glances at the girl; Gwen handled the conversation effortlessly.
Locke was one thing, but Gwen was quite another. It seemed these two were destined to be the top figures at Midtown High for the next three years.
Pepper mused on this. Stark Industries was a member of the Midtown High Board of Directors. Investing in education was something Howard Stark had always championed, though nowadays, Tony left all school-related matters to Pepper.
At the gambling table, Locke saw that Gwen wasn't being intimidated or excluded, so he withdrew his gaze and refocused on the cards in front of him.
The hole cards were revealed.
"Mr. Joshua, two pair!"
"Mr. Broughton, a straight."
"The straight wins!"
Locke watched the dealer push the massive pile of chips toward him. He looked at Mr. Joshua, the board director from Nevada, and offered a thin smile. "It seems Mr. Joshua was afraid I'd actually leave to exchange more chips, so he decided to gift me some money to keep me here."
It was no wonder professional gamblers dreamed of getting into high-quality games like this. This wasn't gambling; it was practically picking up money off the floor.
Think about it. Who bets $5 million on two pair? This wasn't just a "fat sheep" anymore. This was a prize-winning hog.
The others at the table let out friendly chuckles at Locke's teasing. Joshua, who was in his fifties, gave a strained laugh. "Well, if the young man Mr. Stark has been waiting for went bust immediately, it wouldn't look very good, would it?"
Locke chuckled. "But if I want to truly play a round with Mr. Stark, I'm afraid this ten million isn't enough. Perhaps Mr. Joshua would like to send a bit more my way?"
Joshua's smile remained tight. "Young man, you certainly aren't polite. Fine—ten million!"
As he spoke, Joshua tossed ten million in chips directly into the pot.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Seeing this, Joshua taunted, "What? Losing your nerve?"
Locke smiled and pushed his chips forward, meeting Joshua's gaze. "No, I'm just thinking... I feel like I'm no longer winning money; I'm committing robbery."
Joshua stared at Locke's smiling face. "Young man, you haven't even looked at your hole cards yet."
Locke shrugged. "I believe Lady Luck has always been on my side."
"Don't cry when you lose."
"I'd have to lose first." Locke crossed his fingers, looking at the "flying hog" Joshua with a beaming face. "From the moment I opened my eyes until now, in my limited memory, I have never cried. If I cry this time, believe me, Mr. Joshua, you'll be witnessing a miracle."
The table erupted in friendly laughter again.
Joshua narrowed his eyes. "Young man, don't be so arrogant and aggressive."
Locke tilted his head. "I feel like I've heard someone say that to me once before. Do you know how I answered him?"
The phrase was very familiar. Locke looked at Joshua and flipped his hole cards. "I told him: if a young person isn't aggressive, can they even be called 'young'?"
Joshua: "..."
This was a question a famous predecessor had already answered with a perfect score. Locke naturally knew how to reply.
"Mr. Joshua, three of a kind!"
"Mr. Broughton, a straight!"
"The straight wins."
Locke smiled at the chips that had returned to him—doubled. He looked at Joshua. "I told you, Mr. Joshua. Lady Luck is favoring me."
There was no trace of anger in his voice. Only joy. If one shouldn't hit a smiling person, then Locke certainly wouldn't hit someone who was handing him a fortune. Look at that—he was up twenty million just like that.
Locke had spent so much effort and wit fighting S.H.I.E.L.D. just to get a fraction of this. Good grief. Truly, in the eyes of these people, ten million was probably no different from ten thousand—just a string of numbers.
But... he liked it!
Opposite him, Joshua's face was flushing.
Happy Hogan, sitting nearby, gave a hearty laugh to break the tension. "Mr. Joshua, let me introduce him properly. This is Locke Broughton. Two months ago, he was the one who took the FBI and Homeland Security to federal court—the case that shook New York and half the US."
The expressions of everyone at the table, except Tony Stark, shifted slightly as they looked at Locke. After all, they had assumed he was just some kid here to suck up to Stark. It turned out... he had quite the background.
From a certain perspective, Locke was indeed a celebrity in the US, with a reputation across various social strata. People had sued the FBI before. People had sued DHS before.
But someone who could force the FBI to sign a memorandum of understanding and force DHS to plead guilty and pay a massive settlement? He might not be the last, but he was certainly the first.
Most importantly, Locke was still alive and well.
Joshua took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He gave another strained laugh. "Young man, luck is one thing, but you should know it won't stay with you forever."
Locke was clearly not going to give him an easy out, so Joshua had to find one for himself. 'Are all young people today this fierce? Is there no respect for elders?'
But Locke wasn't about to let this prize hog run away. He had no intention of letting him off the hook. "Sorry, but my luck is a constant. However, it seems your luck isn't doing so well today, Mr. Joshua."
His dictionary included the phrase "respecting elders and loving the young." But for Locke to respect his elders, the elders had to know how to love the young. 'I'm only sixteen; until midnight passes, I'm still a sweet, innocent child. If you don't love the young, why should I respect the old?'
"Furthermore..." Locke's gaze drifted toward Gwen.
Gwen was sitting in her chair, chatting with the socialites and wives of the capitalists. Her expression was relaxed, and her tone was steady. Sensing Locke's gaze, she paused and looked back at him curiously.
Locke's lips curled into a brilliant, radiant smile. "I found my Lady Luck the moment I arrived in New York. Since Lady Luck is right by my side, how could she ever leave me?"
It was the truth. Ever since Locke came to New York and met Gwen, the whole world seemed to change. His "career" had entered the fast lane. The daily missions at Midtown High alone had yielded more in a few months than he'd gained in a year in Texas.
And right now? If Gwen hadn't wanted to come on this trip, Locke wouldn't have bothered. And if he hadn't come, this effortless mission to earn over 50,000 Achievement and Potential points would have slipped through his fingers.
More importantly, he wouldn't have met such high-level suckers lining up to give him money.
Following Locke's matter-of-fact statement, the people at the table couldn't help but look over at Gwen. Seeing the eyes of the gambling table turn toward her, Gwen blinked, then gave a shy, embarrassed smile.
"Indeed, a Lady Luck."
"Sadly, she only belongs to Mr. Broughton."
"Haha, no wonder Mr. Broughton is so dominant. Lady Luck herself is in the room."
One of the men turned to Joshua. "Old Joe, you've got to stop that. He's a young man, not one of your employees; he doesn't have to put up with your attitude. Times have changed. The future belongs to young men like Mr. Broughton."
Joshua's face was stiff as he forced a smile. With a few quick words, the others provided him with a face-saving exit, and he grabbed it, sliding down the metaphorical ladder.
"Come, come! Drinks! Let's drink!"
Happy called for a server and teased Locke, "Mr. Broughton, a winning start! The night is young—what are you drinking?"
After that display, no one dared treat Locke like a simple sixteen-year-old high schooler. Joshua had tried that, and he'd just lost fifteen million.
'Damn. That's nearly five years of my salary' Happy thought with a hint of envy. But his hands had been terrible, so he hadn't found an opening to win anything.
"Bourbon."
"Good, Bourbon it is."
Tony Stark, who had been sitting quietly for two rounds, finally spoke up to assert his presence. "Pepper, get my bottle of Bourbon."
Pepper, who had been teasingly trying to get Gwen to tell the "beautiful story" of her and Locke's young love, stood up and went to the wine cabinet, pulling out a bottle with no label.
A moment later, Locke swirled his glass, lowered his head to catch the scent, then looked up. "Thunder?"
Tony looked at him. "Correct. Thunder Bourbon. The first-year batch from when the distillery opened. There are only twelve cases left in the world. Two years ago, I bought them all at auction."
'So it was you, you bastard.'
Locke's brow twitched. In this life, he'd started drinking at twelve. One taste and he'd fallen in love with Bourbon—specifically Thunder brand.
Two years ago, news of the first-year Thunder Bourbon auction had hit the black market. The money Locke had used to purchase the Star Building had originally been reserved to bid on those twelve cases. If he couldn't get all of them, he'd have settled for one.
But some idiot had driven the package price up to two hundred million. Locke had lost that bid!
***
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