Rise of London Gambler. Second edition

Saturday, August 13, 2011

The referee pointed for a corner kick.

“Shit, it’s going to be a goal” murmured John, taking a position near the post.

His height did not allow him to be successful with headers when playing football so he always took position near the posts when an opponent team had a corner kick. He looked around to see where Mike is and found him marking a tall guy, a central defender of the opponent team. The corner kick was taken, the ball was crossed to the area of penalty kick where the opponent striker was the first to head it – just into the net – goal!!! Goalkeeper looked helpless. The opponent team roared and began to greet each other, crawling around the striker.

It was only a couple of minutes to the end of the match. Score now was 1—1, and it was really unlikely to score again in such a tight game. The wind became stronger and colder, blowing the leaves towards John’s opponent team goal. Darren, the manager of Fulham Compton Football Club – the team John and Mike were playing for – looked satisfied, though.

The game restarted, and John, who was in a position of a central midfielder, got the pass from a teammate. He dribbled into the opponent half but nobody seemed to be supporting him. He took a quick look around – no; there were no options in the attack. Another moment of intuition struck him as he was dribbling alone. The defender was approaching to block and tackle him. John shot intuitively from long distance. The wind blew the ball and it lobbed the opponent team goalkeeper – right under the crossbar!

“Goaaaaaaal!!!” He cried, being intoxicated with joy, and ran with raised hands to his teammates who were jumping and running to greet him.

“Great, man! We fucking did it!!! High five! Yeah!!!” Congratulations and cheering were coming like a waterfall.

“I can’t believe it!” John was laughing happily. “It’s just my lucky day!”

“Heads up!” shouted opponent’s manager to his players. “Let’s play!!!”

The match soon finished, and the players went to the dressing rooms and showers. Darren, the team manager, John and Mike decided to meet at the clubhouse near the pitch to watch a football match on TV.

“It’s a good idea to talk to a manager. Darren seems to be an adequate guy, and if he invites you to have a beer with him, there are strong reasons for that, believe me,” said John talking to Mike. “Also, the waitresses are Fulham Compton’s women team players!” smiled John.

“OK, let’s go. Do you know, how much is the beer at the clubhouse?” asked Mike but John didn’t hear him since it was very noisy in the dressing room.

Darren was sitting at the table in the bar and taking probably the best seats to watch TV. He waved his hand once he saw John and Mike, inviting them to his table.

“The first half is almost over, it’s going to be a break now, so let’s talk,” said Darren, chewing.

“Let me be brief with you, guys. What are your plans this season? I’d really want you to stay with us. Club President – you can see him at the bar, he is also a bartender here – told me he will sponsor the team only if we have a strong one. Last season our team earned only one point throughout a whole season, the team was shit, and the only reason why they decided to keep it is my promise that I am going to make a successful team this season. We are doing okay by now, but if you leave – I know you might leave, let me be straight with you – we are not going to have a team. I know you have friends who can play ball really well. You can invite them to play for us, right? So, guys, if you stay with us this season, I can confirm to Club President we will participate in the League…”

“Of course, Darren, we are with you,” said John, turning his eyes to Mike who nodded his head affirmatively. “You can rely on us. What about new players, I have some…”

“Great!” exclaimed Darren with a smile of satisfaction. “Let’s have a drink! The club pays for all drinks today! Okay, let me introduce you to our Club President, Andrew. I think he will be happy to hear the news.”

Club President was a nice guy, approximately fourty years old, plus he was an effective communicator. They had a brief but intense chat. “So, if we need you to play for our first team, we can call you, right?” he asked the guys who happily nodded their heads. “OK then, we’ll keep in touch, Darren. Any more drinks? Meatballs and pasta are going to be ready soon.”

The guys returned to their table. Next hour was spent in discussion on the match finished and the teammates’ performance.

“Darren, we need to talk to the keeper. I know he is a nice guy but if he continues playing like that, we…”

“Only person I need to talk to right now is that girl over there, you see?” said Darren, laughing. “The waitress, her name is Zaida. She is a midfielder of Fulham Compton Ladies team.”

“Manchester City – Swansea: 4—0, fulltime” read John on the screen.

“Wait! Oh my God!!! Is it real?! Is it final score?” – he asked the people around him. “I just won one hundred fifty pounds!!!”

The first step

“How did you do that? Come on, tell me!” John and Mike took the seats in the bus back home to Tooting Broadway and began to discuss John’s lucky bet.

“Remember that night when we went to Ladbrokes shop? When I came back home, I thought about things like predictions etc., and it came up to my mind that the score 4—0 which was written on that Ladbrokes board (remember?) might be a good deal since the future is pretty surprising and shocking sometimes. So I registered at bookie website, checked few odds, and placed bets on correct score (4—0), -3.5 goals handicap (i.e. Manchester City are to win with at least 4 goals margin), total number of goals in the match (more than three) – you know, just for safety of my stakes if something goes wrong – and you see, all the bets won! Damn, this is just exactly when I need money most!”

“So, what you’re gonna do now? Become a professional gambler?”

“Come on, this is too early to talk about it. This is only one bet! When I get home, I’m going to see the odds and use my intuition. Oh God, please… If I am same lucky again, in a month I’m gonna be a millionaire!”

“H… How is that??”

“Look, my balance increased by 10 times today, and I started with £10. Now I have £100, okay? Next week I’m gonna win £1,000, and in two weeks it’s gonna be 10,000! In four weeks I will have £1,000,000 if everything goes fine. But this is in theory only.”

“This would be amazing,” said Mike after a moment of silence. “I’d wish to have such money-making ideas too…”

“Don’t worry, Mike, your old buddy will help you,” smiled John.

Last corner kick

The following month John spent all evenings and nights checking odds, reading statistics, players’ and football managers’ interviews. Many times when Mike saw him, John was either smoking in a backyard or watching football with his earphones on. “What are you listening to?” asked Mike once just to have a chat with John since he started to worry about him. “It’s trance, best DJ’s compilations,” replied John, showing that it is the end of the conversation but Mike wasn’t leaving.

“C’mon, please, one more corner, please…” murmured John.

“What are you watching?”

“It’s a match I found online on this bookie website. They accept in-play bets during the match so I checked them and decided to bet on a total number of corners in the match. They seem to have lots of corners – the match is intense, attacking football, and the pitch looks relatively small,” replied John with a concerned face. “It’s the 93rd minute, the match is about to end, and I need one more corner, please…” said John.

Mike joined him and started to watch too.

“Did you say ‘size of the pitch’? How is that related to a number of corner kicks?” asked he.

“Well, this is my theory only but it works well. Since the size is smaller, it takes less time to get from one box to another and earn a corner kick. It also depends on the character of the game so I need to spend some time watching the match to see if it’s worthwhile,” replied John.

“How much is your stake?” asked Mike after a while.

“£44, it’s a half of my current balance. My tactic is to bet half of my balance every time, just for safety so you keep your balance active as long as possible. The odd is about 5, which is cool for such game, I think. They had 5 corners in the first half, and another five by 60th minute – so I decided to bet that there will be more than 16 corners in the match since usually, the teams in such intense games tend to earn more corner kicks in the last 10 minutes of matches.”

“Look, look!” exclaimed Mike impatiently. Attacking team was approaching the opponents’ box. Striker shot on goal but the ball was blocked by a defender. The ball bounced from the defender and crossed the goal line.

“Corner! It’s a bloody corner!!!” exclaimed John and smiled. “Ref is giving a corner kick! Yeah!!!”

A player who was now going to take the corner kick placed the ball and raised his hand to signal his teammates. At this moment, the referee whistled for the end of the match.

“Cool, man! Let’s have a tea!” said John happily. “Would you like some tea, Mike?”

“Yes, sure!”

“Great! Where are my cigarettes…?”

They had few sandwiches, made tea, and went out to the backyard garden where John liked to smoke.

The same evening John got a message from bookie saying that as soon as the last corner kick wasn’t taken, it is not counted in the match statistics, so his bet lost.

Moving to another flat

October was approaching so John and Mike had to make payment to a landlord. Mike needed to talk about it with John who never delayed any payments due. It is why he was very happy to see John when he entered his room.

“May I? Look, we have to pay rent soon; here is my part, but… I am afraid next month I am moving to…”

“Why? How are your bets going? You didn’t make money?” asked Mike, starting to worry.

“No. The things did not go so well. I tried everything, but the things went crazy. It’s like a spell on me, I don’t know. I did everything according to statistics and match expectations, but I always needed either one more goal scored or one more corner taken. All shit like that. I decided to stop,” said John sadly. “It was a nice try anyway.”

“Sure, John. You will make it, I feel it.”

“Thanks, mate. We’ll see. Maybe some day… I am planning to place small bets, just for fun and experience. Listen, I am sorry for causing these troubles you’re gonna have – you know, finding a new roommate etc – but now I cannot afford £500 per month to rent a room.”

“I see.” sighed Mike. “Come on; tell me, how bad is your situation? I can lend some money…”

“No-no, it’s all right.”

In fact, John’s situation was pretty bad now. He lost not only the money he won at the beginning but also a significant part of his savings. Now, he had only about £1,000 which would let him survive for a couple of months if he finds a cheaper room, plus he was expecting to get back his £750 security deposit from a landlord. He had 6 months remaining till the graduation, so his budget was pretty tight now.

“Okay, man, let’s have some tea. We did not talk lately; I saw you were busy and nervous, so I kept leaving you alone. By the way, Darren also asked me why you changed recently, and I said you are busy with your studies.”

For a tea, they had milk, toasts, jam and chocolate cream. That was their usual ration.

“Sometimes I was so close to winning big money. Sometimes even up to £100,000. I made double, triple, four-fold, and even fourteen-fold bets sometimes. And every time there was one bet or two bets which lost. Damn, I started to feel the matches are fixed!” said John desperately.

“Fixed? It’s against the law, isn’t it??”

“Yes, it is, but it doesn’t mean there are no fixed matches, right? Remember few cases in Italy when Juventus and Milan were relegated for fixing matches? Or in Turkey? Some clubs were fined in Turkey for fixing their matches! And I am sure there are many small clubs which fixed their matches too, but they are not on the news.”

“Are you sure??”

“Well, not really sure but I have a feeling that there is something which looks like if some matches were fixed. If I feel the match is not fixed, almost all my bets win. But sometimes match goes just the opposite way I expect, and I can’t explain why. For example, when we play in Saturday League, the matches are pretty clear and simple, right? I just dream they allow us to make bets on those matches! You can see which team is stronger and whether it can win. Usually stronger team wins more corner kicks and gets less yellow and red cards. I checked our games we had – they all are in line with my theory. Well, maybe I made mistakes in my predictions a couple of times, but when I bet with bookies, results were catastrophic!”

“Well, professionals play very tactical games, not like us,” said Mike. “We just kick the ball and run, we don’t have any tactical approach, I think.”

“Right, I thought about it too! So I bet in-play when I see how the game is going, and what to expect from the teams. Even so, many of my bets lost! How could it be?? I don’t get it! I just don’t get it!!!”

John went out for a smoke and Mike joined him. They sat in a backyard garden as usual. It was nice and silent here, apart from street noise. John really liked smoking here where nobody could disturb him.

“Thought about finding a job? Maybe you should try FOREX or stock-market again?” asked Mike.

“No, no way. Turnover in bookmaker industry is three times larger than in FOREX market. By the way, it also makes me think that somebody fixes the matches. It’s a big-big money, and there is always someone struggling with club budget etc. A temptation is high, and people are weak usually. If there are known black dealers in FOREX market – which is three times less than bookmaking one – then how many match fixers are there? I don’t know for sure but I suspect that there are plenty of them.”

“Well, up to you, man, whatever you think. If you need a job, I can ask my friends, maybe they can find something for you.”

“Thank you. I am trying too, but all I found by now is a job of a part-time football coach. I will have to conduct training sessions on Saturdays – exactly when we have our games for Fulham Compton – I really need to choose, but I wanna play since I promised Darren, remember? And I really wanna play!” said John.

“By the way – it’s good you reminded me – I talked to those guys you wanted for our team. Rickets, who you said is perfect for a left midfielder, and that tall guy, his nickname is Stix (not sure if it’s right for us to call him so), Jay Jay and Gareth are ready to play for us, but they cannot pay for playing in the team.”

“Wow, it is great news! Darren told me he is bringing one central defender from Fulham Compton third team since the guy is frustrated to be in reserve all the time. I feel that we’re gonna have a hell of a team!”

November 5, 2011

John moved to another flat in a neighbourhood to share a room with Pakistani guy called Emil who worked in a fast-food shop on the ground floor. In the past six months they met in the shop frequently, and one day John saw an ad saying Emil needs a roommate. Rent was £200 per month which was a good deal for him. Emil seemed to be a nice guy, and John decided that he hardly could find a better roommate. Emil was not interested in football but was fun of cricket. He also was a practicing Muslim, a moderate one, not a fanatic, so John had no problem with it. One evening Emil made Pakistani tea which was tea leaves boiled in milk with sugar, and they started talking about religions since they both had something to share.

“What are you doing all the time? Betting? It is not good, brother. Betting is a sin!” said Emil.

“Look, Emil, I believe there is a Creator. Since we live in the world which exists then someone or something created it. The world is like heartless mechanism. For example, the gravity. Anything just drops on the ground, right? No matter, you’re a saint or an evil doer, you just hit the ground. So, I am just not sure the Creator has intelligence and there are heaven and hell etc. Look at this world! How perfect is it? Do you think it may be created by an intelligent and wise person? Yes, laws of physics and mathematics are flawless, but what about society? You know it better than me!”

“Yes, right. But it is people who make society messy. God made everything perfect, it is people and Lucifer spoiled everything. It’s why.”

“Okay, do you remember who Lucifer was? One of the angels, right? Who was created to worship the God and had no own will – unlike humans. Just like a computer. Just programmed. How come he started having his own will?? Can you imagine the computer having its own will? Can your cell phone start having its own will?!”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“So, do you see my point? This is only one of my questions. It’s why I am not into religions. I trust something I can check using experiments or observations. People should have critical thinking, right? I can’t say I fully trust modern physicians too, but they have a more analytical approach to everything, they check and double-check their data and conclusions, it makes me trust them more, but I cannot say they are absolutely right in everything. You know, they develop own vision all the time, they don’t get stuck with dogmas etc.”

“So, what you wanna say? Scientists are right or religions are right?”

“Let’s say, none of them. The truth is somewhere in between, I suppose. I hope in the future they will come to a common solution. At least now they have one common point – definitions of God and energy are just about the same. God was there and will be forever and so is the energy. You can say I believe in energy. Not sure the energy has intelligence, though. Thus, there is no sin, but active and destructive actions since energy cannot judge you. You just get your energy and accumulate it, or you lose it, and that’s the only punishment you get”.

“So, you mean, saintly life is a spending your energy in right way which helps you accumulate more energy?”

“Good point! Probably, yes. Frankly speaking, I’ve never thought what a saintly life is since I don’t dare to be a saint or something. Wait, I need to do something.”

John looked at his laptop and placed the bets on odds he just has found attractive, and relaxed.

“By the way,” he said. “Investing is not a sin, right? You can say I invest in my bets. Any investment involves risk, so it is some sort of gambling, don’t you think? And if investing is allowed, then what could be wrong with betting? I’m not gambling blindly, I’m working hard to analyze the games and make my ‘investments’, but in the other form only! Also, this is absolutely fair business, no cheating. I win money, but it’s not easy. I take risks to lose, and for reward, I get a chance to win some money. It is absolutely similar to investing – except the fact that I am not producing any material or tangible asset. Frankly speaking, this fact is confusing me to some extent, but don’t the shareholders do the same? They invest money only, and then share the profit if they are lucky.”

Friday evening, November 25, 2011

John and Mike entered the room with plastic bags full of food and drinks.

“Hey, Emil, salam aleikum, bro! Get up, let’s celebrate! This is my friend Mike, you probably saw him in your shop.”

“Oh, aleikum salam, brothers!” Emil shook hands with Mike and looked at the bags amusedly. “Today you have a birthday or what?”

“No, just having a tea with my best friends! I’m celebrating my big victory, man!” laughed John.

“You won money?”

“Yes, man! £6,000 in one bet!!! Miracles happen, you see?” smiled John.

“OK, tell us, John! How did you make it?” asked Mike impatiently.

John took his laptop and switched it on.

“See, it is the history of my bets. I found two matches, which looked pretty interesting. These teams often concede the goals in the second half and lose the game even if they are winning after the half-time. I bet on so-called half-time/full-time result – it’s usually the highest odd offered – and the number of corners kicks. There were two matches, so it makes a 4-fold bet. Total odd was 5,848. My stake was £1 only – it’s all I could afford at that time.”

“25… 3… 17… 4…” murmured Mike, watching the screen. “You are a genius, man! You are a fucking genius!”

“Oh no, this is all about being sharp-eyed, Mike. Thank you anyway,” replied John, smiling.

“I will go to make tea,” said Emil and rushed into the kitchen which they shared with other tenants but John never felt comfortable with them.

“Yes, please! Emil makes brilliant Pakistani tea, Mike, you’re gonna love it.”

John sat on his bed and took a sigh of relief: “You know how great is it to feel you have money. A couple of days ago I had money to survive one month only, and now I have them enough to survive for one year! All my troubles are over now!” added he with irony.

Room table was small, so they spread newspapers like a tablecloth on the floor. Usually, Emil did it this way when John was occupying the table with his laptop, analyzing and making bets. Now John felt enormously thankful to this Pakistani guy for his patience and constant readiness to help. He recalled one day in his mind when John fell down with the flue, desiring to die as soon as possible since the pain in his head was tormenting him. Emil found him lying on the bed totally sick, all in sweat. He ran to the drugstore and bought some pills even though he was dog-tired after his shift in the fast-food shop. After taking that medicine, John fell asleep and woke up next morning, with no pain, but still weak. Smoking the cigarette at Amen Corner and looking at the sun shining, he started to think how beautiful life is. He decided to take a break from his bets, statistics, and studies since he had no power to continue. “Sweet surrender,” thought he to himself that day. “You’re sweet indeed…”

“What did you say?” asked Mike.

“Did I?”

“Yeah, you were murmuring something. I thought, maybe, you’re talking to me”

“Oh… never mind! I bought soft avocado to have them with doughnuts. It’s delicious, and it doesn’t make you too fat.”

They have heard a young white girl’s voice from the kitchen. The voice was smoky and boozed.

“Who are the other tenants? You know them?” asked Mike.

“Well, they are Pakistani guys too. Some of them are students, but it seems like they work most of the time as salesmen or cleaners, I don’t know exactly.”

“Come on, ladies, come on, ladies! One-pound fi-i-i-ish! Come on, ladies, come on, ladies! One-pound fish!” One Pakistani guy started singing the popular song, and a burst of laughter exploded in the kitchen.

“It seems like they’re having fun tonight too,” said John.

“By the way, what about Julie?” Julie was John’s classmate at business school. Once he invited her to the cinema, then a football match, and to his flat when he lived with Mike.

“I don’t know, man,” replied John. “I haven’t seen her for ages. I talked to my advisor at school so he let me work on my assignment at home, so… also, you know, girls are consuming a lot of time, effort and money… it’s kind of…”

“Oh, I see. You’re becoming an old asshole, man!” laughed Mike.

Emil came back with the saucepan of his exotic tea. He also brought a kettle of water to add in case if the tea is too strong for the guys.

“We have visitors tonight? I never saw a lady living in the house,” asked John.

“No… they are colleagues. She is Karim’s colleague,” replied Emil, being confused for something.

“Nice voice,” laughed John. “Is she the same beautiful like her voice?” Guys laughed. “Maybe, we can invite her to our ‘royal’ party? Look, I have to heat up the doughnuts.”

He took the doughnuts and went to the kitchen. He saw Karim earlier; it was young long-limbed and a gimlet-eyed guy. John never found him nice so avoided unnecessary contact with him. Karim was sitting at the table with a good-looking woman, approximately 27—30 years old, with tons of make-up on her face.

“Good evening! Sorry for bothering you,” said John, entering the kitchen. “I just need to use the microwave.”

The woman took stock of John, and said: “Hello, my name is Jenny.”

“Nice to meet you, Jenny! I’m John. By the way, we’re having tea in our room. Wanna join us? You’re welcome!”

“God’s sake, men stopped drinking beer around here or what?” asked Jenny slowly, becoming somewhat upset.

“He is a sportsman,” laughed Karim. “He plays football,” he added and broke into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” thought John.

“You play football?” asked Jenny, while microwave oven began buzzing.

“Yep, I play some football with my friends. It’s an amateur team, each Saturday.”

“Amateurs, you see?” laughed Karim again.

“Yeah, amateurs,” said John, starting to get mad about Karim. “Nothing special, just having fun to play footie.”

“Call me when you have some beer, sweetie,” said Jenny. “What is in the box? Doughnuts??”

“Yeah, we’ve just brought them from Sainsbury’s.”

“Fuck me-e-e! Fuck me! Jesus! Grow up! How old are you?! You’re a bunch of suckers!” Karim and Jenny burst into laughter again.

“I’d fuck you till you appeal for mercy, bitch,” thought John, starting to get mad, but he laughed with them instead.

The oven has signaled that doughnuts are ready. John took them and went out of the kitchen.

“See you, guys!”

“Bye!”

When he entered the room, Emil and Mikey were talking about John’s bets.

Emil was talking excitedly: “One player of Pakistani national cricket team was found guilty in fixing the matches. It was written in the newspaper!” He looked around at the floor, trying to find the lying newspaper he was talking about, but now it was impossible.

“Shit! Bastards! I can imagine how much they make out of it, man!” said Mike. “Wow, doughnuts!”

“Here you are. Help yourself, guys, don’t be shy. Nobody likes shy guys!” said John.

The tea was amazing, and so were the doughnuts. After having four or five of those, John asked Mike:

“By the way, how is your new roommate? What was his name, again?”

“His name is Stephen,” replied Mike. “Good guy, he studies a lot. The only thing he is too religious, so he talks about the doomsday and Illuminati all the time, but it’s okay. He would like to play football with us some day. He says he used to be a good defender at school.”

“Yeah, no problem. Let him come to our training on Wednesday. By the way, Emil also talks to me about Islam a lot, so we both are kind of on the firing line!” smiled John.

“Once he told me,” continued Mike, “he told me, that you can find devil’s sign “666” in the name of Coca-Cola, “‘cause each “C” looks like “6”. So he never drinks it. And he doesn’t celebrate Christmas because it is not really a Jesus’ birthday, and Santa is an anagram of “Satan’!”

The guys laughed. Emil started cleaning the room and said he had to go to the fast-food shop he worked at to help his back-to-back with cleaning. Also, he said, there might be some chicken fries unsold, so he’d like to bring them, as usually.

“You know what,” said John as Emil left. “Religious fanatics usually lack education or mental aptitude, I don’t know. At the same time, they either have an enormous ego or they are absolute nice guys. Nothing in between. They usually come from those who we think are nerds or losers, but they will never say so. They just want to look big, like ‘you all are plain shit, but I know the Truth with capital ‘T’. So, honour me!’ An easy way to the public recognition. No need to study, no need to work hard, etc. Just read only one holy book and feel important.”

“Yep, probably right. People like freebies. Some people like to think they are more important just because they are white, black, purple, or if they’re coming from some local area. Or if they got more money than you!” replied Mike.

“I bet there always will be someone looking for such reason to be more important than others. If all people would be black, they still will be looking for the differences – some might be deep black, some would be violet black, and some would be yellowish-black. I think, they just need a dream they could believe in, and it makes their day. Deep inside, they subconsciously realize that they are ‘plain shit’ and their existence is meaningless, but they want to be important somehow. They need a purpose in their lives. Well, Mike, do you have a purpose in your life?”

“Do I what?! What purpose, man? I’m just trying to survive here each fucking day!” replied Mike, laughing. “Do you have a purpose?”

John thought to himself for a moment.

“Good question, mate! Well, I don’t know what to say… I just want to be happy. That’s all. As soon as we were placed into this world, we have to survive and enjoy the process, if possible. But if you enjoy bullying others, then you’re a piece of shit.”

Mike a said he has to go since it is becoming late, and John went out to send him. For John, it was a chance to walk and smoke in a company.

“So what are your plans now, John?” asked Mike. “You wanna come back to our flat or move to some better place?”

“No, I’m fine,” replied John. “Yeah, this new place is shit. Recently I caught a cold here while sleeping. But I still have to make some more money. When I have enough, I’ll move out.”

They were walking down Southcroft Road. A red bus passed them by, leaving in silence.

“Okay, Steve seems to be sleeping already,” said Mike, looking through the window. “So, what time do we meet in the morning”?

There was a game with kick-off scheduled at 10am, as usually on each Saturday, so they had to meet and take a bus.

“Oh, yeah, nearly forgot. Darren said he’ll pick us up at 9:00am at Tooting Station. So let’s meet at 8:45am at my flat.”

“OK.”

“See later, man.”

“See later.”

John felt great – now he didn’t have to worry about money until the end of his training course. Also, now he could place bigger stakes to win more. “My road to million,” murmured he. “Then I could forget about the day job, and run my own business. Maybe, open another bookie?”

Through the window, he saw Emil cleaning the fast-food shop with his workmate. The guy waved his hand to John, and so did John. “OK, one more cigarette,” decided John and stopped by the shop.