The Odds - Jeff Strand Page 0,6
hundred thousand dollars.”
“Holy shit.”
“You’re right, holy shit. Exact same penalty if you lose. This time you’ll have a seventy-five percent chance of winning. You’ll choose from four slips of paper. Three of those slips will earn you a hundred thousand dollars. One will earn you a severely broken arm. Still pretty good odds.”
“What are the actual betting odds on that?” Ethan asked.
“I’m not sure,” Rick admitted. “I know that there are fraction, decimal, and American odds, but I’m not a big math guy. We’ll keep it simple. Anyway, this time, I’m going to give you two minutes to think about it.”
“I feel like maybe I should quit while I’m ahead,” said Ethan.
“The choice is entirely yours. No peer pressure here. Except that I will say that the prize money is just going to keep going up. Let’s return to our hypothetical discussion. Would you break your arm for a million dollars?”
“I don’t know.”
“It would involve a lot of pain and suffering, but I personally would go through a lot of pain and suffering for one million dollars. People break their arms all the time. People get limbs torn off in accidents. They aren’t getting a million dollars for their misery unless there’s a lawsuit involved. You see where the game is headed, right? Pretty soon, the hundred thousand may seem like chump change.”
“How far are we into my two minutes?” Ethan asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be flexible.”
If he excluded the first ten thousand dollars as recouping his gambling losses, he could leave here with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That was “pay off the house” money.
One in four chance.
Still favorable odds.
But “will almost definitely win” had transitioned to “will probably win.” Probably. It was a pretty severe penalty to risk on “probably.” And if he came home with a mangled, useless arm, it would basically ruin his whole announcement about the fifty thousand he’d won.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Seventy-five percent chance.
No. If he left now, he’d leave as a winner. He’d have only good news to share with his wife and children. They’d be thrilled when he told them. Would he regret passing up the chance to win even greater sums of money? Maybe. Not as much as he’d regret sitting in that chair with a huge metal block on his arm, gaping in horror at the visible broken bones, blood spurting all over the place.
He should quit.
He should absolutely quit.
But...
No. He should quit.
“I can’t do it,” he said. “If I stop now, it’s been an entirely positive experience. I don’t want to throw that away.”
“Playing it safe, huh?” Rick seemed more amused than disappointed.
“Yeah. You understand, right?”
Rick laughed. “I was going to destroy your arm. Of course I understand.”
“How high would the prizes have gone up?”
“Can’t tell you. A lot, though. But you’re leaving here sixty thousand dollars richer, so I can’t imagine that you’re filled with regret.”
“Nope, I’m pretty happy.”
“Let’s make it official. Are you declining to participate in Round Three?”
One hundred thousand dollars...
“Yes.”
Rick extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, I promise,” said Ethan, shaking it.
“Doesn’t it feel good to know that you can shake my hand without it jiggling the broken bones? Sorry—I try to keep the dark humor to a minimum, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. I figure, it’s funnier now than it would be if your arm had been crushed. Any plans for the money?”
“I think I’ll—” Ethan almost said “put it in my sons’ college fund,” but he’d lied about not having kids, and he didn’t want to end this on an awkward note. “—invest it. Maybe splurge a little, get a movie theater style popcorn popper, but I’ll invest most of it. Gotta be responsible, right?”
“I totally agree.”
3
Ethan sort of regretted not taking the envelopes of cash, because he could’ve poured the money out onto the bed in his hotel room and rolled around naked on it. It would probably be an overrated experience and result in paper cuts where he’d least enjoy them, but nevertheless, it was something he’d always wanted to try.
As soon as he’d left the building he’d transferred the money to his bank account. He handled all of the household finances, so Jenny wouldn’t have to know that he’d lost and regained the ten thousand, but he’d have to figure out exactly how much of the truth he’d tell her about the fifty grand. He wanted to be as honest as possible...to a point. Now that he was away from