Page 87 of Gambler's Fallacy

The final round starts up, and Caleb huffs impatiently. “Help me find Trent, Vortex. He has to be here.”

“I’ll come too,” Havoc says, getting up. “I never liked that guy.”

“You don’t like anyone,” Caleb snaps. “Fine, come on.” He walks off, Seven in tow, and Havoc jogs after them.

We do a cursory search of the audience, but Trent isn’t in any of the VIP seats. Caleb leads us into the back, where the locker rooms and private changing rooms are.

We hear voices coming from the promoter’s office.

Caleb motions to the door, and I step forward and bust it open, not even trying the lock first.

We hear the loud cheers and boos from the event hall, letting us know that the final round has ended.

There are three men inside the office. Trent, the promoter Veronica, and somebody I vaguely recognize. They all startle when we enter.

“Oh, Caleb!” Trent says, smiling nervously. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”

“You said you would leave this match alone,” Caleb hisses. “You think I wouldn’t recognize your man on the judge’s table?”

If I hadn’t been sure that the fight had been rigged before, I am now. It was so blatantly obvious that it’s stupid, and I wish I hadn’t bashed the door in so I could close it behind us. I clear my throat, drawing Caleb’s attention to it.

Seven clings to Caleb’s side, and I can’t read him as well as I can read Caleb’s fury.

“Did I say that?” Trent asks, scratching his chin. He glances at Veronica. “Tell him how much money we’re gonna make,” he says.

Veronica taps on the tablet on her desk. “I think we’re set to earn several million on this, Caleb. It was a good deal.”

The third man nods, and I realize now where I’ve seen him before. He’s Blade’s manager. He must be glad for the guaranteed payout, which is worth more than whatever other promotional deals they might have lined up.

“Blade will still win the championship,” the manager says. “We gotta keep people on their toes, make the fights interesting. That’s all. If we promo Díaz as his ultimate rival, that’ll drive more sales and bets, too.”

Havoc balls his hands into fists. “Are you listening to yourselves? The fights are supposed to be raw,pure. You’re tainting everything they stand for.”

His passion is commendable, but I know people like this won’t care.

Veronica laughs. “Please. People want spectacle and showmanship. There’s a reason wrestling outperforms MMA in terms of viewership.”

I want to speak up, but I have more self-control than Havoc. Instead, I hang back, keeping an eye on the door — far too mindful of how easily someone could stumble across this particular conversation. Caleb has to be beyond furious not to be thinking of that scenario right now.

“I don’t care!” Caleb snaps. “Of course spectacle outperforms. I don’t give a fuck that nine out of ten fights are rigged! But you know the regulators take a close look at the major headline matches, especially if there’s a sudden rise in bets for the underdog! Which there were!”

Trent rolls his eyes. “You worry too much, Caleb. Just toss some bribes their way and be done with it.” He turns his attention to Seven. “Hey, kid. How are you doing? Lori told me you’ve got excellent taste in cartoons.”

“They aren’t—” Seven begins, but one glance at Caleb has him falling silent. He tugs at the long sleeves covering the scratches on his arms, though.

I look out over the hall, making sure I don’t hear any footsteps. This fight being rigged is bad news for Caleb, no matter how much money it might’ve brought in.

“Shut up, Trent,” Caleb hisses. “If anybody comes knocking,you’repaying the bribes and making sure nothing comes of this, understood? I’ve worked too hard to get the Roi into respectable, government-approved shape for you to ruin all of it?—”

Trent makes a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it, don’t worry.” Then he smirks at Caleb. “Careful, though. Leon might not be too happy if he finds out you’re more worried about respectability than making profits for us.”

Havoc takes a threatening step forward, but I grab his arm to stop him from doing anything stupid.

Caleb shifts his attention to Veronica. “And you. I thought I could trust you to keep some of this bullshit under wraps. Trent might be under Leon’s protection, but we both know my grandfather doesn’t approve of women being involved. This was your only strike.”

Veronica has the decency to look chastised. “Of course, Mr. Spade.”

Seven loops his arm in Caleb’s. I realize he’s trying to get him to calm down, though I’m not sure how well that’s going to work with Caleb on the warpath like this. “We should go,” he tells Caleb.

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