“If the odds on that bet always double your money, you’ll only make a buck no matter what round you win on.”
“Huh?!”
Isaac and Miria turned around. Firo Prochainezo stood there, looking exhausted with them.
Having heard a rumor that the pair had been attacked by mystery thugs, Firo had met up with them, pretending it was coincidence, but he was hanging out with them to make sure nothing happened.
These two weren’t the only ones. Ever since Ennis had been snatched, the Martillo Family had been guarding their various connections, particularly Firo’s friends.
Since Isaac and Miria had already been attacked once, and it was also completely impossible to predict anything they did, Firo was guarding them personally.
He would really rather have been pounding the pavement looking for Ennis. Still, these two were his good friends, and he’d decided that clumsily searching for Ennis would be playing right into Melvi Dormentaire’s hands. As a result, he was guarding the pair in person until the casino party.
“And by the tenth round or so, you’d already have to bet 1,024 or 4,096 dollars. Do you have that kind of dough?” Firo asked.
Isaac hadn’t been completely off base. What he’d described was the martingale system, a supposedly foolproof strategy that was about as old as gambling itself.
However, it had a lot of flaws. One was that, even though you kept doubling your bet, winning would only net you the small amount you’d bet first. Another was that you couldn’t use the method when gambling with fluctuating odds. A third was that, if you bet your whole wallet and then lost, you’d lose everything without a chance to make it up again. Finally, if the casino had a set upper limit for bets at each table, you couldn’t use it in the first place.
This surefire method wasn’t viable unless conditions were perfect and you had the resources to place unlimited bets. On top of that, you couldn’t win much with it. It was less a recipe for success and more a way for the wealthy to pressure an opponent with fewer resources, continuously doubling their bets as a type of psychological warfare.
Firo was well aware that Isaac and Miria were not equipped for psychological warfare, so he tried to nip this in the bud. However—
“We’ll cover for that by, um, working and earning money! It’ll be fine in the end!”
“If you can come up with four thousand bucks by working, you should just stick to the straight and narrow. Besides, even if you won that way, you’d only win a dollar, remember?”
“Meaning if we did that a thousand times, we’d walk off with a thousand dollars! What a haul!”
“Yes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single inch! Rome wasn’t built in a day!”
The pair were unrelentingly optimistic. Firo shrugged, unsure what to do with them anymore. “Well, that’s really something. Fine, go on and build yourselves a magnificent Rome.”
Christ’s sake… If the customers at my casino were fat cats this careless, I’d have it made.
Even though Isaac and Miria had been attacked just recently, they hadn’t changed a bit. Firo found this rather heartening, but he still kept a cautious eye on their surroundings.
On the first day, neither Melvi Dormentaire nor the Runorata Family had tried to mess with him in any significant way.
Melvi had told him that their showdown would take place on the third day, but he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
Don’t trust a word that guy says.
He said he’d let Ennis go if you won, but you really can’t trust that one.
Firo scanned the road again, more cautiously this time. Flames were burning in his heart.
✦ ✦ ✦
That said, they weren’t the black flames of hatred.
The Martillo Family were his candles in the dark, blazing bright to show him the way.
He’d save Ennis and become his family’s shield and sword as a camorrista.
He didn’t yet know what the future would bring, but he knew the first road he needed to walk down, at least. That was why Firo was managing to respond to Isaac and Miria’s conversation the way he usually did.
At this point, nobody knew how his composure would affect the big gamble.