The Bellagio lobby is all marble and blown glass flowers.
Sheldon's calculating square footage. Howard's gawking at won. Raj is photographing everything. Leonard looks vaguely uncomfortable in Vegas-casual clothes. Bernadette's already spotted three slot machines she wants to try.
Penny squeezes my hand. "This is really happening."
"This is really happening."
Check-in takes ten minutes. The desk agent recognizes my na, makes a phone call, smiles professionally.
"Mr. Bloom, we've upgraded your party to the Penthouse Suite. Two bedrooms, full anities, complintary for the weekend."
Dead silence from the group.
"I'm sorry," Leonard says. "Did you say penthouse?"
"Yes sir. Mr. Bloom's industry contacts arranged it."
"What industry contacts?" Howard demands.
"Marvel Studios location scout stays here," I explain. "I ntioned the trip. He made a call."
"You just—ntioned it—and got us a penthouse?"
"Apparently."
The agent hands over keycards. "Enjoy your stay."
The suite is ridiculous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the strip. Two massive bedrooms with California king beds. Living area with full bar, sectional couch, and a TV that's probably illegal in so states.
"This is—" Penny's circling the space. "—this is insane."
"I've calculated the nightly rate," Sheldon announces. "This would cost approximately four thousand dollars per night. For two nights, we're receiving eight thousand dollars in value."
"We're not receiving anything," Leonard corrects. "Stuart's industry contacts are receiving sothing. We're just benefiting."
"Incorrect. Stuart specifically requested we be included in the upgrade. Therefore, we are direct beneficiaries of his professional network's accumulated social capital."
"Thank you, Sheldon, for that breakdown of sothing we all understood."
"You're welco."
Howard's already raiding the minibar. "Does the complintary part include—"
"No," I cut him off. "Drinks are on you."
"Worth asking."
Bernadette's examining the bathroom. Her voice echoes out: "There's a jacuzzi tub! And a TV in the bathroom!"
"Why would you need a TV in the bathroom?" Raj asks.
"You wouldn't. That's why it's fancy."
We hit the strip at six.
Sheldon has his binder. Actual three-ring binder with laminated pages.
"I've analyzed the statistical probability of various gas," he explains while we walk. "Blackjack offers the lowest house edge at 0.5% with perfect basic strategy. Craps is second at 1.4% on pass line bets. Roulette is suboptimal at 5.26% house edge but provides entertainnt value."
"What about slots?" Raj asks.
"Slots are mathematically designed to extract maximum value from players with minimum strategy requirents. They should be avoided by anyone with basic nuracy skills."
"But they're fun."
"Fun is not a quantifiable tric for financial decision-making."
"You're the worst," Penny tells him affectionately.
"I'm statistically the best at not losing money."
We split up outside Caesars Palace. Howard and Bernadette want the Forum Shops. Raj wants buffet. Leonard's interested in Colosseum shows. Sheldon's implenting his "system."
Penny and I head to the casino floor.
"Where to first?" she asks.
"Blackjack. I've got a good feeling."
"You always have good feelings."
"They've worked out so far."
The blackjack table is $25 minimum. I buy in for $500.
Penny perches on the stool next to , nursing a vodka cranberry the cocktail waitress delivered.
First hand: Dealer shows six. I have fourteen. Basic strategy says stand.
mory flickers. Probability matrices. Card counting fundantals.
Stand. Dealer busts. $25 win.
Second hand: Dealer shows ten. I have twenty. Stand. Dealer has nineteen. Another $25.
Third hand: Double down situation. Win $100.
"You're really good at this," Penny observes.
"Just following the strategy."
"Since when do you follow strategy?"
"Since it makes money."
An hour later, I'm up $2,000. The pit boss is watching but not concerned. I'm winning within normal variance. Not enough to flag as counting. Just lucky.
Penny's fascinated. "How are you doing this?"
"Math."
"You hate math."
"I hate complicated math. This is simple probability."
"Nothing about this looks simple."
"Trust ."
Another hand. Blackjack. $375 win.
The dealer—middle-aged woman, na tag says MARIE—smiles tiredly. "You're on a roll."
"Lucky night."
"Mmm." She doesn't believe it. But she deals another hand.
By the ti we cash out for dinner, I'm up $3,500.
Penny's vibrating with excitent. "That was insane."
"That was card counting."
"I thought card counting was illegal."
"Frowned upon. Not illegal. Big difference."
"Still. Three thousand dollars in one night."
"Thirty-five hundred."
"Even worse! What are you going to do with it?"
"Dinner. Drinks. Whatever we want."
"We can't spend three thousand dollars on dinner."
"Watch ."
The steakhouse reservation I made—through the sa Marvel contact who got us the suite—is at nine.
The whole group's there. Everyone showered and changed. Looking actually put-together instead of road-trip casual.
"Stuart's treating," I announce. "Order whatever."
"Whatever?" Howard's eyes light up. "Like, actual whatever?"
"Lobster. Wagyu. That fancy French wine Sheldon can't pronounce. Whatever."
"I can pronounce it perfectly," Sheldon protests. "Château Margaux is—"
"Proving my point."
Bernadette's studying the nu with wide eyes. "This is—the entrees are all over a hundred dollars."
"And we're getting them."
"Stuart—"
"I won thirty-five hundred dollars in two hours. We're celebrating. Shut up and order."
Penny kisses my cheek. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously generous," Raj corrects.
"That too."
Leonard raises his water glass. "To Stuart's mysterious gambling skills and even more mysterious industry connections."
"To Stuart!" everyone echoes.
The al costs $1,800 with wine. Worth every penny.
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