Chapter 357: Santa Anita Park
Arcadia is a small city in the San Gabriel Valley, about thirteen miles northeast of downtown Los Angeles, and is considered one of LA's satellite cities, much like Pasadena.
The most famous attraction here is Santa Anita Park, the most iconic horse racing venue in Southern California. Since 1934, it has continuously introduced cutting-edge electronic systems and facilities, making Santa Anita Park a mecca for thousands of California racing enthusiasts during the season.
However, Ron was definitely not one of those people.
Ron was initially reluctant to gamble, but he couldn't resist Caroline's persistent pleading. To get Ron to agree, Caroline pulled out all the stops.
She even played a game with Max—a Caroline sandwich.
Don't ask if this arrangement was conventional; it was a premium Oreo cookie, if you catch the drift.
"Max, look, this is the racing club! We're way up here in the clubhouse, and the horses are being loaded into the starting gate down on the track. It's so exciting! They're off!"
Back in her familiar environment, Caroline practically vibrated with excitement.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we've only been here for like a minute, and you're already this wound up. You didn't need to put in this much effort last night," Max said mercilessly. "Honestly, I almost didn't recognize you yesterday. Who was it that said they'd never hook up with both me and Ron? That person really showed a different side last night. None of those booth babes walking around the convention center could match your enthusiasm."
"Max!" Caroline shot Max a reproachful glare. "I did all that for our little apartment fund, didn't I?"
"No, you did it all because you and Ron both—" Max's words cut off as she suddenly widened her eyes and shoved Caroline. "Oh my God, there's so much amazing food here! That lobster is as long as my forearm!"
Forgive Max's amazement. It wasn't her fault; she'd never seen such a lavish seafood spread in her entire life, except for the few upscale meals she'd had with Ron.
"Hey ladies, I already talked to the host. I know the owner here, we go way back, so let's head straight to the VIP section."
Ron returned to the two women, draping his arms around their shoulders as they walked to the VIP seating area. Passersby cast envious glances at Ron with both women on his arms, though the women's envy was directed at Caroline and Max.
Most of them were there with older sugar daddies, and young, handsome, wealthy guys like Ron were always prime targets for these trophy hunters. If Ron just snapped his fingers, he could easily assemble an entire starting lineup in his bedroom.
"Thank you for bringing us here. It feels so good to be back at the track. After all, horse racing is the sport of kings. It reminds me of when I used to come to the races with my father."
Caroline, as if marking her territory, gave Ron a light kiss on the cheek, drawing knowing smirks from the other women.
"Actually, I didn't want to come. I've always felt that gambling isn't a reliable way to make money. Max, what do you think?"
"Uh... what interests me more is all those king crab legs out there. Is this a buffet, or is some waiter going to tackle me later?"
"Eat as much as you want, but I'd suggest not stuffing yourself completely. Save some room so we can go out after the races and—"
Before Ron could finish, Max cheered and bolted to the buffet line, grabbing an oversized plate and loading it up.
"Caroline, you want two or three?" Max called out, holding up a massive lobster. Caroline was so mortified she could practically tunnel to China with her toes. She could only pretend not to know Max and continue chatting with Ron.
"Which horse are you thinking of betting on? I'm leaning toward 'Messy Dress'—he's a great sprinter, the jockey was a pound lighter at the pre-race weigh-in, and he came in second in the seven-furlong Rinconada Stakes, but this time it's only six furlongs."
"Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy," Ron nodded.
Actually, he already had a pretty good idea of the outcomes for all of today's races after his chat with an "old acquaintance."
Don't think gambling is all about luck; that's the most naive notion in the world. In reality, all casinos are the same—the outcome is predetermined from the start. Only the house makes money; you just get to decide how much you lose.
Take this horse race, for example. The house releases information beforehand to subtly influence bettors, just like the data Caroline mentioned—it's all intentionally leaked by the bookmakers.
The goal is to give people a small taste of victory, a sense of control, and once that feeling becomes addictive, it becomes increasingly difficult to stop, leading to ever-larger bets until everything is gone.
It's crucial to understand that casinos can spread accurate information, but they can also spread misleading "facts," and sometimes they don't even need to. Simply calculating the odds before each race and having the officials give the jockey a signal will immediately determine the outcome.
Ron understood the intricacies of this system, but he wanted to teach Caroline a lesson she wouldn't forget, to shatter her unrealistic fantasies, which is why he kept quiet.
However, Caroline made the right pick in the first race, and he chose to observe her subsequent behavior before making his move.
"Max, what about you? Want to bet on a horse?"
"Nah, I'm not interested. How about we eat and bounce?" Max cracked open a king crab leg with a satisfying snap and took a massive bite of the sweet meat. "Oh my God, this tastes incredible! Ron, what were you about to say? I mean before I went over there."
"Nothing, never mind. Eat more if you like." Ron shook his head, affectionately picking out crab meat and offering it to her. Max froze.
This gesture was way too romantic for comfort.
Max frantically dodged Ron's hand as he tried to feed her: "No, no, no, Ron, you eat yours, I can crack my own. You want me to get you some?"
Caroline couldn't take it anymore and shoved Max hard: "Max, where's the money?"
"Hey! Don't do anything stupid! Wait—" Max wanted to talk her out of it, but seeing Ron right there, she simply pulled some bills from her bra and slapped them into Caroline's hand—their diner's startup capital—before returning to her seafood feast.
By now, Max had already demolished four crab legs, two lobsters, and an entire octopus.
"Wait here, I'm going to place my bet now!" Caroline excitedly skipped toward the betting window, moving remarkably fast despite wearing heels, and immediately returned clutching her betting slip.
"How about it? Want some more? What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you," Ron asked with concern when Max paused her eating.
"I just ate the entire cast of 'Finding Nemo.' I'm not being gross, I just feel like if I don't take a break, a clownfish is literally going to swim out of me,"
Max said contentedly, rubbing her slightly distended belly. Caroline, meanwhile, hadn't touched anything, just stared fixedly at the TV monitor on the table broadcasting the race she'd bet on.
"Look!" Caroline pointed at the screen: "That's our horse—Messy Dress! He's in the lead! Run! Run!"
Caroline kept shouting, her excitement making her wish she could personally replace the poor jockey and sprint toward the finish line herself. Finally, the oddly-named horse was the first to cross the wire.
The final announcement came over the speakers: "And the winner is... Messy Dress!"
"Yes! We won!" The two girls excitedly hugged each other. "Are we finally winners? I don't know how to be a winner, I don't even know what to do with my hands."
"Ladies, here you go—the money you just won, six crisp hundred-dollar bills!" Ron had already cashed in the racing ticket. The odds on this horse were 3 to 1. Caroline bet $200 and now had $600.
"Look, we only had $200, but now we have $600—so much more disposable income!" Caroline excitedly counted the money again and practically squealed with delight.
"Leon, this is your hard-earned money!" Max was in such a good mood she generously handed a $100 bill to the busboy clearing the plates, which startled him.
"Really?! A hundred bucks? That much?"
"Absolutely. Before I became rich, I was a waitress too. Besides, after I finish another plate of seafood, you'll probably have to wheelbarrow me to the parking lot."
Max raised her chin, looking smug, but Ron didn't find it annoying; instead, he found it kind of adorable.
She'd only won a small amount, yet she already thought she was loaded. What a sweet woman.
However, this is the terrifying aspect of gambling: the distorted view of money that comes with easily acquired wealth—taking extravagant spending for granted and no longer appreciating the small sums earned through honest work.
The busboy looked at Ron. Being a regular in this type of establishment, he could easily tell who held the real power in the group. Ron smiled and nodded: "Take it, you earned it. Max, Caroline, how about we head somewhere else for some fun?"
"No way, this is just the beginning," Caroline shook her head.
Max asked, puzzled, "Why don't we leave? We already made money."
"Max, think about it. If we keep betting at 3 to 1, imagine how much we could make?"
"No need to imagine, it's basic multiplication. If we ignore the hundred Max just gave away, you still have five hundred. If you keep winning, it'll instantly become fifteen hundred."
"Exactly! Look, in the next race, there's this horse named 'Sunday Dress'—I've done tons of research. He has the same championship bloodline as Secretariat, so he'll definitely be the winner next time. It's as certain as death and taxes."
"But they say nothing's certain except death and taxes for a reason." Ron sensed Caroline was really getting carried away and tried to throw cold water on her enthusiasm, but this didn't cool her down at all.
"That's not the point, Max. Give me the money, and watch me work this magic again to double it!" Caroline said excitedly, just like dozens of other gamblers in the hall.
"Hey, we bust our asses slinging hash to deadbeat customers to earn this money, and now you're getting addicted to gambling?" Max frowned, looking at Ron. "Can't you talk some sense into her?"
But Ron just shrugged. "You two work it out yourselves."
"Don't worry, I'm definitely not addicted. Where's your money?" Caroline started patting down Max. "Trust me, this time will be just like last time—a sure thing."
"Okay, here." Max hesitated for a moment, then tossed the money she'd just won onto the table.
"This is the last time. I swear I'll never do it again." Caroline held up the money and made a pledge, but her tone was completely unconvincing.
"Caroline, my Uncle Hank said the exact same thing."
"No, I meant I'll never ask you for money again, because we're about to be rich!"
"That's what Uncle Hank said to his wife."
"I promise, once I win enough to cover our rent, I'll never gamble again."
"You haven't seen Uncle Hank's case file, have you? What you're saying is literally what he said..."
"Hold on, the race is about to start, I gotta go now, bye!" Caroline turned anxiously, practically dancing as she rushed back to the betting window.
"Ron, aren't you going to stop her?"
"Nope," Ron said, handing Max a betting slip. "Here, hold onto this. The next winner is 'Uncle's Got a Gun.' You know, these wins and losses are all pre-arranged. The one after that is 'Gone Fishin'.' I just want to teach her a lesson. You know Caroline won't learn unless she actually loses."
This was the result of his earlier chat with an "acquaintance." Under Ron's very persuasive conversation, the other party had readily told Ron about today's predetermined winners and promised not to change the results after he left, only asking that Ron keep his winnings under ten grand, otherwise he'd have trouble explaining things to his bosses.
Ron readily agreed, and casually removed the chair leg from the guy's sphincter, giving him one more "courtesy tap" for good measure.
So Ron was truly in complete control.
"Ron, you're so devious!" Max smiled wickedly. "But I like it."
(End of Chapter)
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