Mare was already $75,000 in the hole. A deepening, widening hole with toothy edges, and there were definitely divorce proceedings at the bottom of it. But she knew she could work her way out of this.
Here’s the thing with roulette wheels: the wheel is random, but the croupier isn’t. They spin eight hours a day for decades. Of course they learn how to tilt fate.
Mare isn’t like most gamblers. She has a system. Find the most leathered croupier, flat bet the minimum until some drunk bets it all on red, then bet half as big on black.
She usually wins, but tonight something demonic had the wheel. It wasn’t working. The vacation fund, the savings, even a forbidden investment account: gone. Over a long enough timeline, her edge should manifest, but it didn’t.
The deeper into the hole she got, the more certain she was she could turn it around. that the next turn would turn it all around. She’d chewed through her lower lip and rubbed lime against it to numb the pain.
A handsome man, less handsome because he knew it, approached the table and sat beside her. Cinnamon and leather wafted. He took $600,000 in chips from a duffle bag and put them all on red.
The croupier smiled. Mare knew this was it. The spin that fixed everything. She put her last $25,000 on black, and held her breath.
“You know,” the man said in a sandpaper baritone. “The moment right before is even better than winning.”
He was right. The spinning wheel. The pressure in her diaphragm as she held her breath. The moment before the ball fell, and everything—everything—was possible. That was where the money was at.
The ball fell red.
Color drained from her. The casino lights spun in wide circles. It was over. Over.
“Tough break,” the stranger said and chucked her a thousand-dollar chip.
She scrunched her nose and stepped away from the table with a nod. She’d try her luck with someone who knew what they were doing.
“Losing is a loser’s game, huh?”
She looked behind her and found the stranger following her.
“How much is that, now? 100-grand?”
“What’s it to you?”
“You won’t win it back here,” he said.
He was right about that.
“I gotta try,” she said.
“Mhmm. Mark won’t accept sorry and rehab this time,” the stranger said.
She froze.
“Don’t fret over small details at the precipice of something great, darling.” There was a honey to his words that poured over her.
“What do you suggest?”
“Have you ever played carousel?” The stranger’s white teeth sparkled lupine in the low casino lights.
“Never heard of it,” she answered.
“It’s the best odds you can get.”
She nodded. She had nowhere left to turn, and despite herself she believed him.
He walked her through the winding endless halls of the casino, designed to make leaving feel impossible. In minutes, she was lost, but the stranger held a door open for her, and gold-embossed handrails led down steep, winding stairs.
In the room’s center, a carousel idled. Horned horses, centipedes, talon birds, and plaster demons were affixed to the exterior. In the center: a table with a deck of cards.
“It’s easy,” said the stranger. “First, you pick your ride. I’ll deal six cards. You can look and note where each one sits before I turn them over. The carousel spins for one minute. You jump from your ride. If you land closest to the highest card, you win the hand.”
“What’s the catch?” she said, the last of her skepticism holding on by the thinnest of threads.
“You must jump before the minute ends. No catch.”
The stranger put his hand on her shoulder before walking into the center and shuffling the desk. The cards moved as if ensouled between his fingers, dancing and flourishing.
“I’ll give you a thousand to one odds, since you were so helpful to me at the roulette wheel upstairs.”
The prospect of coming back to Mark with a $1,000,000 cut the thread completely.
She found the most innocent looking animal, a horse with two small ram horns curling from its head.
“Let it rip!” she shouted, imagining the dinners and dates and smug smiles.
The stranger dealt six cards: two queens, one four, and an ace of spades. She memorized their locations, especially the ace of spades, as the carousel began to spin.
Round and round it went, faster and faster. The room began to blur. The table felt very far away. Soon her hair blew back. The wheel’s tempo increased, whipping her around the room. She tried very hard to keep her eyes on the right card, but she’d lost it. Or maybe she hadn’t. It was that one, or the next. Or, wait, no, yes, it was that one right there. Right?
She didn’t know how long she’d been atop the horse, but she thought the minute must be getting close. She wanted to hop off, but the moment she did, it’d be over, and she wanted to be certain. The moment she jumped, everything would end. She’d win, or lose, and return to the ordinary world. But here, spinning ever more violently, she could still, maybe, win it all back. She lost the card completely. She’d have to guess, but something in her chest wouldn’t let her. She didn’t want to get off the ride. It spun. She would jump, any second now, but first she’d savor this moment.
The wheel spun. Mare bided her time. The pressure, the anticipation, bloomed in her chest, expanding with each successive spin of the wheel while she held tighter. The wheel spun. Flames tickled its edges, but Mare hardly noticed. She’d jump any minute now. The wheel spun. Flames climbed higher still. The wheel spun. Flames danced across her body, but she wasn’t ready yet. The wheel spun. The wheel spun. The wheel spun.