Chapter Text
“The focal point of a wedding reception is the bride and groom, but on this occasion the guests are leaving disgruntled even with all this fine wine and cuisine.”
Freddy Riley was a wedding bartender. He worked at weddings, making and serving cocktails for a while. The job was worse than mediocre. It paid a minimum wage salary and was majorly tip dependent. However, that wasn’t the big issue. Weddings had begun to wear on him. He couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart every time he saw the happy couple being wed. Martha…he missed her so much. The memories of his ex wife were able to be pushed aside, at least for a while. Although unearthing such memories as often as he did felt like a special form of self harm that kept cutting deeper and deeper every single time. Remembering his past marriage for each wedding he worked, every wedding he worked, it was painful but it was all he had. It was a position he was unable to step away from. He was having terrible luck finding another job, people didn’t want to hire him. He was trapped, nothing he could do but grin and bear it for what seemed like the rest of his days.
Yet the universe had other plans for him.
Freddy’s day to day had become one in the same. It was predictable and hardly ever deviated. This day was set to be the same, a customary wedding ceremony. The preparations for the reception went as usual. The newlyweds didn’t pay for an open bar and the bartender served drinks as he was required to do. This already put people in a less than optimal mood, having to pay for their own drinks when free ones were the standard. However the reception itself left the guests even more disgruntled. Enough people had the bright idea that the costly drinks were at fault to collectively complain to the bar manager. Action had to be taken, blame had to be placed, and Freddy was forced to take the fall. He was fired. All that loyalty for this shitty job just to get treated like a disposable wipe. He wasn’t truly loyal, he would’ve quit in a heartbeat for another job opportunity, but he could pretend that he was. How could they fire a loyal employee like that? He’d worked for this company for years! Freddy felt bitter over the whole ordeal, considering his firing unfair, but regardless he had to move forward.
His job misfortune persisted, it took a while for him to get back on his feet. With some budgeting, he’d be stable till he found new employment. Budgeting…he loathed it for the simple fact it reminded him that he was working class. He wished he could be rich and successful, perhaps a lawyer in another life. But alas, it’s a dream for another timeline. After hunting for a new job for what seemed like forever, he finally found a place. The Hellfire Casino. The job’s duties entailed the same tasks as he did previously; making drinks and serving them to those who came to his bar. This time, it’d be a casino bar instead of a wedding bar. He got to work as quickly as they would let him and he worked there for many months.
Things are different now, better in a way. He gets to look down on the lowliest of low in society, those who dragged their miserable selves to a casino to waste their wealth and drink their sadness away. There were exceptions, sure, but for the most part it felt oddly good to see so many people suffering more than he was. As though he was still above them even as he felt down. The only drawback is that he had to still treat them with respect. Freddy would love nothing more than to degrade the pathetic gamblers wasting their money away. They were people he, quite honestly, could care less about. It didn’t matter to him if they were offended by the insults he wished to hurl at them. Unfortunately his job forces him to smile and serve them, serving alcohol as all casinos do.
In a casino, you get a variety of patrons as the bartender quickly learned. The elderly wasting the last bits of their life and fortune spending it on slots. The broke losers who are addicted to the gambling adrenaline rush, spend all their money, and then wallow away at the bar. The normal people who come in for a few games and drinks, just to have some fun, and then leave (Freddy respects them the most but finds them the least entertaining). The idiotic newcomers trying things out for the first time. Snobby wealthy people who hoard too much money and then spend obscene amounts of it because apparently there’s no fun in keeping the money you’ve earned. Sure there’s more but these account for 90% of casino goers.
They’re all tolerable, however the most annoying patrons are those who stroll in with an ego. The ones who insist that there’s a strategy to winning big and they’re the ones who know the secret. The irony is lost on Freddy, the man with a superiority complex hating on those with overblown egos. But he has a point since the ego havers are awfully annoying. And recently the casino has procured a regular that Freddy considers to be a man with a massive ego.
A self proclaimed “lucky guy” who called himself a pro gambler, as though there was some element of skill to being lucky. Freddy believed there wasn’t. The man affirmed himself to be of superior luck and skill. He constantly boasted about his good fortune in the gambling den every time he came to the bar. Slots, table games, betting of all kinds, he seemed to win it all or at least disproportionately more than normal. He developed a reputation for it amongst the staff. He’s that guy who manages to win it all despite the odds of a casino never being in the gambler’s favor. It seemed like an unreasonable and unrealistic amount of luck for one to have. Freddy always found it strange that he managed to pull it off.
But the weirder thing is, this guy was some sort of enigma. No one knew his real name, his real job, or anything about him really. He claimed he gambled professionally, like as a career, but Freddy didn’t buy it. There had to be something more. He was a mystery and if you ask him questions he deemed too personal, he’d change the subject. When people asked about his name he was unwilling to give it. Freddy believed he might be able to learn it by serving him at the bar and seeing his ID. Unfortunately the only person he would let check it was Demi Bourbon, one of his coworkers, and she was sworn bribed to secrecy. But the rest of the casino staff nicknamed him “Lucky Guy” or “Lucky” for short. So that’s what everyone else, Freddy included, calls him. He hated the guy, too secretive for his liking. That and the fact Freddy thought he was a cocky bragger. Despite his disdain, the bartender had to remain cordial as he served him.
“Hey, Freddy!”
Freddy was in the middle of mixing a cocktail for another customer when he turned his attention over to the voice calling for him. It was Lucky Guy. He was sat at the bar top with his elbows on the table and hands neatly clasped together as he waited patiently for the bartender. Freddy grit his teeth, forcing a smile to show in Lucky’s direction to briefly acknowledge his presence. Only a brief acknowledgement before he focused back on mixing the drink. He finished it up and served it to the waiting patron. Now he could finally put his focus on the next, more annoying, customer.
“I assume you want Demi to come check your ID for you. And your usual, a gin and tonic?” He didn’t even need to ask at this point, it was merely a formality.
“Yes to both.” The guy replied with a grin. Freddy hated that grin. Something about Lucky being happy pissed him off. But he wasn’t one to show his cards, especially the bad ones. So he grinned back and gave a slight nod.
“Alrighty, I’ll go get her for you. She’s on break right now so she’ll be a minute.” Lucky nodded as Freddy left to go grab her.
He walked through the bar back and turned straight into the back room, opening and closing the door as he went inside. Demi was sitting on a crate of beer, enjoying her break, before perking up when she noticed him enter.
“Hey Demi, it’s the guy again.” Freddy stated and Demi lit up. It was routine enough where she knew the drill. “Take your time with coming out to check his ID, I know you’re on break.” Thinking he was telling her to take her time to be courteous would be giving the bartender too much credit. Freddy wanted to inconvenience Lucky by making him wait longer to get his drink. Inconveniencing people he disliked made his mediocre job a little bit better.
“My favorite barfly!” She exclaimed “Tell Lucky I’ll be right there, you can get his usual mixed up in the meantime.” Freddy went back without another response.
”You’ll have to wait for Demi to come check before I can prepare it for you but after that, I’ll have your gin and tonic coming right up!” Freddy said in a polite and cheerful voice, all his years of working with customers has helped him master his customer service demeanor. No matter how much he hated someone, he could always force a convincing smile on his face and an upbeat tone.
“Thanks!” Lucky said in his own cheerful voice, though his was actually genuine. Clearly something good had happened. Freddy hated to think about the man’s good fortune but he was too curious to avoid asking.
“So what’s got you in a good mood?” Freddy inquired as he waited for Demi’s appearance. He was less interested in sparking a conversation to pass the time as much as he was being nosy.
“Another good gambling day!” He spoke excitedly. Freddy despised his chipper attitude but let him continue. “I go to the poker table first. It’s my favorite. It’s no secret.” He gestured to his black vest that contained a poker chip pattern, the self-imposed uniform he always wore. “But anyways, I go to the table and get dealt in a round. I start off with a pair of jacks which is good already so I bet some money. I hoped something good would come up and it’s like my wish came true because two of the community cards were also jacks. I had a four of a kind right there! That’s a winning hand so I bet some more. Then the dealer revealed another card and…”
As Lucky raved about his day and Freddy half listened, Demi came out from the back to approach the duo silently. She was careful not to interrupt Lucky who kept talking even as she showed up in front of him. Lucky slid her his ID, he had taken it out beforehand when Freddy left to get her and had it face down on the table. She took it and held it close, cupping her hand around the side so no one could glance at it, shielding it as though it were a confidential document. Freddy glanced in her direction, he thought the whole thing was silly and over the top every time they did it. But he couldn’t deny he was one of those prying eyes who was curious to discover Lucky’s true identity. Afterwards, she turned it face down and passed it back to him before she slipped away. He took it from the table and placed it back into his wallet. All without the two exchanging any words. It was odd, really. Freddy found it so strange and secretive.
Freddy pulled up the necessary ingredients and got to the preparation. He was more engaged with his work than listening to Lucky’s day to day activities. As Freddy mixed up the drink, Lucky grew less enthusiastic and became quieter as he talked, eventually growing silent. Freddy glanced up, confused about what prompted the sudden silence. Lucky sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.
“Sorry… I’m boring you, aren’t I?” He was embarrassed, blaming himself for Freddy’s inattention. Freddy was somewhat surprised. Perhaps it was the fact he thought so lowly of the gambler but he didn’t expect the guy to be remotely perceptive of his subtle disinterest. He’s not complaining though. If anything, he wished Lucky had stopped talking sooner.
“No, not at all.” The bartender lied. “I’m very focused on perfecting your drink but I’m still listening.”
“Alright.” Lucky said in understanding but he wasn’t in the mood to continue talking about his day. Freddy didn’t mind. Though the silence that followed felt too uncomfortable for the gambler to bear.
“Are you into gambling, Mr. Riley?” Lucky asked, trying to continue the conversation.
He finished the drink, more focused on that than Lucky and responded without properly thinking his response over “Goodness no, it’s nothing but a waste of time and-.” He quickly caught himself, that was too candid. Besides, he shouldn’t be trashing gambling in a literal casino and his place of employment. Lucky could easily report him to his higher ups. He hurriedly self corrected in fear of reprimand “But you’re free to do as you wish. It’s not a waste if you enjoy it. It’s just not for me.”
“Is it because you’ve had bad luck?“ Lucky questioned “Being lucky is a talent, after all. I get it’s not for everyone.”
Lucky wasn’t offended by Freddy insulting his hobby but Freddy was certainly offended by Lucky insulting him. Was Lucky saying he wasn’t talented? Screw this guy! Luck is NOT a talent, at least not to Freddy. But here Lucky was, claiming it’s a talent and that Freddy wasn’t talented. The nerve…
Freddy kept his tone steady to avoid letting the bitterness seep into his voice “Luck has nothing to do with the fact I don’t enjoy gambling.” It had everything to do with the fact he didn’t enjoy gambling. If the bartender could gamble a little and win a lot then he would’ve done so already. However he knew that the house always won, always. It’s not like he was lucky enough to gamble anyway. If he bet a dollar, he’d manage to be ten in debt.
He passed Lucky the drink, a bit more forcefully than a non-bitter person would have but Lucky didn’t seem to notice as he took it.
“If you say so. But if luck is ever an issue, I’ll share some of my luck with you. I wish good fortune onto everyone, you know.” Even if the concept of a person having more luck was true, Freddy definitely didn’t believe that luck could be shared. Lucky was being even more ridiculous than usual.
“That’s nice, Lucky.” He said dismissively, hoping for this conversation to finally end.
“No problem, that’s what friends are for.” Lucky said grin as he took a sip of his drink, finally giving the bartender a chance to escape.
Ugh…Who did this guy think he is to claim himself as one of Freddy’s friends? At best he was a customer, nowhere near being a friend. Freddy could only respond with a forced grin as he left to go tend to the other patrons. Lucky never ordered more than one or two drinks so he didn’t have to pay much attention to him besides this interaction.
“The audacity he has!” Freddy thought to himself. “He comes into my bar, brags about his good fortune, and then talks down to me for not having as much luck as him.” The thought soured his mood “There’s no way he manages to win that much so often. He must be lying.” But no, Lucky Guy routinely won big. It was a well known fact, it was basically his whole reputation. If he was lying then it would’ve been found out sooner.
“No wait…” A realization.
“He’s a cheater. That must be it!” Freddy reasoned with himself. The theory made sense with how often Lucky pulled up excellent hands in card games or made miraculously lucky bets. Yet it‘s a wonder how he hadn’t been caught considering all the existing security and cameras. It’d be a good idea to report him, that’d be the right thing to do. Although “the right thing to do” was a guise of justification for Freddy to disguise his honest intentions, witnessing Lucky’s downfall. But to expose the “fortunate” gambler, the bartender needed proof. The casino wouldn’t throw someone out without proof. If the establishment kicked out anyone he wanted then he would’ve had them banish every annoying customer ages ago.
So Freddy thought up a plan. It was more effort than any normal person would put into catching a cheater. His determination was primarily due to how much he disliked Lucky. It’d be difficult to record the cheating occurring himself. He had a job to perform outside of catching Lucky Guy and it’d be suspicious if he was standing there with his phone in hand waiting for the guy to slip up. But if the cheater admitted the crime themself, Freddy could record it and have undeniable proof. So here’s the plan:
Step one - Get close to Lucky Guy. That’d make it more tempting for him to reveal information. But not too close. Not because it wouldn’t help but because Freddy doesn’t wish to. He’s not in it for the long game, it only had to be close enough to coax an admission.
Step two - Intoxicate the guy. Alcohol is as much liquid courage as it is a liquid snitch. He’d be way more inclined to tell the truth. It wouldn’t even break the bank, the bartender could steal some from the bar. Stealing is wrong, sure, but this is for the greater good of the casino. Get Lucky drunk and he’ll admit to everything easily.
Step three - Record the evidence sneakily and hand it over to the casino. Video would probably be better but surely an audio admission will work just fine.
Step four - Appreciate the newfound peace in the casino, as peaceful as a casino could be, without Lucky Guy’s presence. It’ll at least be more peaceful without such a pompous prick in the place.
If no one else was going to bother to expose Lucky Guy then Freddy would have to do it. He already served alcohol, he could certainly serve justice.