Figures

Max’s heart was hammering in his chest as he carefully eyed the race. He’d been stupid enough to bet a massive amount of money on one of the horses, which he started to regret now that the animal was quickly falling behind. At the time of placing his bet, it had all seemed like such a great idea. Races like these were often fixed anyway, and Max had a guy on the inside that would inform him which horse would win, so he could make a giant profit off of it. At least, that was what he thought he was doing. Of course, it was far more lucrative to the other party if he were to lose his money, something Max somehow had failed to think of. Up until now. The horse he betted on was named Dax, and the fact that it rhymed with his own name completely assured him of the fact that it would win. He’d been dead wrong, however, as he watched in sheer horror how the horse came in last. His eyes were wide open, staring at the animal making its way past the finish line. “Fuck me,” he softly murmured in defeat. How on earth was he going to explain this to Enzo?

& Emilia

It wasn’t exactly guilt that made him feel bad for what he just had done. Actually, it was nothing but fear. Pure fear for the inevitable anger of his older brother. The man didn’t exactly have a decent handle on his rage, and bad news like this would do the trick to set him off. Maybe it would be smart to simply not tell him at all. Maybe, just maybe, he could ‘loan’ a little more money on the down low and try to win it back, maybe even double it. Gambling was his forte, after all.

For now, however, he let the defeat take over. His gaze was fixated on the horses that tiredly stepped away from the finish line, murmuring some profanity to himself. He was surprised when someone actually reacted. He turned towards the woman whose voice he’d just heard and grinned when he looked her up and down real quick. “You sure?” He raised his brow a little. “It’s a two-for-one deal.” Of course he was kidding, being an overall idiot was simply his way of making him feel better about himself. To his side, he heard a couple of his friends talking about the race. One of them gave Max a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t bet on the winning horse,” he asked the girl. It was so much more fun to share his misery.

In the meantime, gambling had become more of an addiction than a hobby, really. It was a nice way to waste his time and his brother’s money, but after all was said and done, it was the very thrill he’d been feeling during the race that kept him coming back. The euphoric state he’d be in right after he’d won, or the short depression if he hadn’t. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Win or lose, he had money in excess.

Max chuckled when she announced she only fucked winners. He hadn’t expected that kind of mouth on her, but he absolutely didn’t mind. “Maybe next time then.” Because next time, he’d surely win. He raised a curious eyebrow when she told him she wasn’t betting. “You just like watching horses run in circles, then?” he asked, a little amused. No one really came here for the race itself. Maybe she had a husband that dragged her here. Most of the gamblers were men, after all.

The woman rolled her eyes, yet she was still smiling. So, he was scoring points. Kind of. Not really. He wasn’t even sure whether he was trying to or not. Of course, she asked him about his winnings, and for a second he pondered if he should lie to her or not. “Not everything is about winning, you know,” he told her, in a semi-serious voice. He couldn’t keep up the act for long, though. “But, well, not much, actually.” He lost more than he won, big time. But the thrill of winning blew the annoyance of losing out of the water.

She clarified she was running from a date that wasn’t going too well. Max raised his brows in amusement. “Ah,” he said, slight nodding. That explained everything. He looked over her shoulder for a bit, trying to take a peek at the people there. “Where’d you leave the poor guy?” he asked. The race was finished, so the man might’ve started to look for her now. “What’s he like?” he continued, out of sheer curiosity. There were only a few things that were more amusing than a terrible first date.

Her comment made him shrug. “What’s the point of having money if you don’t know how to spend it?” he attempted to reason. Sure, you could be ‘responsible’ and invest your money into things like land, real estate, companies and the like. But where was the fun in that? A secure investment never made anyone happy, something that his brother was the ever-living evidence of. Everyone complimented him on his mind for business, but the man was miserable at best. Max, on the other hand…

Her commentary on her date mate him smile. Apparently the man was rather talkative, a trait that Max shared with him on occasion. “Now I’m very curious to know about all your other terrible first dates,” he told her. She looked like the kind of girl who wouldn’t have any trouble finding a suitable partner, but alas. “If he gets here, I can pretend to be your long lost husband to ward him off,” Max suggested. “I’m sure he’ll fall for that.” Men could be pretty dumb, after all, especially in the company of attractive women.

“I do me,” he agreed with her. His family wasn’t probably all that enthusiastic about him doing him, but oh well. You couldn’t live your entire life according to the wishes of other people. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t make you very happy. And wasn’t happiness just a nice goal to strive for? Every now and then he wondered what he’d be like if he was more like his brother. However, he’d quickly come to learn that that was not a pretty picture.

Apparently she was a serial dater. They’d need to sit down for a bit if he wanted to hear the chronicles of her horrible dates. Max just shrugged. “I have time,” he nonchalantly let her know. The race was over anyhow and most of his friends were about to scatter anyway. Some of them actually had jobs to go to. Max casually laid out his plan for her, if they were to run into her date, and he was met with a period of silence. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, and then she concluded that he could be her type. The words made a smile appear on his face. “Max,” he introduced himself. He somewhat despised his actual name. “How about you?”

Hesitantly, she agreed to spend a little more time with him. If he paid for drinks. “Too bad I’m completely broke after losing that bet,” he joked, trying to pretend to be annoyed. It wasn’t like the drinks would make any significant contribution to his tremendous loss anyhow.  He looked at the crowd for a bit. Most people were slowly moving away from the tracks, since it had been the last race of today. There wouldn’t be anything to do or see here shortly anyway.

Max. Not Maximilien. Absolutely not Maximilien Bourbon. It wasn’t like he wanted to distance himself from his family, it usually just kind of naturally happened. He preferred to flaunt his wealth rather than his name. The woman introduced herself as Emilia. Feminine, he liked it. “How about we get out of here and you tell me what you like to drink?” Of course, he was hoping she had something alcoholic in mind. He didn’t really want to go daydrinking alone.

The corner of his mouth turned upwards a little when she said he could probably do the dishes in exchange for the drinks. “I suppose I’ll have to roll up my sleeves, then.” To be quite honest, he’d never washed a dish in his entire life and he wasn’t planning on changing that today. That’s what the servants were for. He raised a brow in surprise when she answered his question. Whiskey. Damn, she wasn’t fucking around. “So you like the strong stuff?” he asked her, slightly amused. Most women preferred the sweeter drinks, so her preference was quite noteworthy. Not that he minded, at all. “Anywhere in particular you wanna go?” Max’s preference went out to the more high-end taverns. He was never opposed to spending more money for more quality. However, the lady had the last say.