"If he's tight and opening from EP with 22BB, his range is likely 88+, A-Q offsuit and better, maybe K-Q suited."
He did some quick calculations in his head, lips barely moving. "Assuming he calls a shove with the top half of that range—say 99+, AQ+, you're about 57% to win preflop with jacks. Against a narrower range—like TT+, AK—you're still around 47%. Either way, it's close, but not a bad shove. You have already locked in about $2,000, so you can do whatever you want. Mathematically, I'd say go for it."
Mila shoved and looked at him. "Did you just do all that in your head?"
Lance smirked. "Poker is just algebra with sunglasses."
She paused for a second. "...That's the nerdiest thing you've ever said."
"And the most accurate," he replied, eyes already back on his own table.
Everyone else folded while the original raiser called.
Villain: A♣️Q♠️
Mila: J♣️J♦️
Flop: 7♠️ 4♥️ 2♦️
Turn: 9♣️
River: Q♥️
"Urgh…" Mila groaned.
Lance smiled sheepishly. "Math is math, but luck plays a small factor here too. You did well today."
xxxxxx
An hour later, the tension in Kenji's corner of the room snapped like a rubber band.
"Ah, shit—NO!" he shouted, throwing his head back in disbelief.
Amara and Mila looked over.
"What happened?" Mila asked, already bracing for drama.
Kenji let out a long, tragic groan as his screen faded to the post-bustout summary.
"Ace-Queen versus pocket jacks. Flop came Q-J-2. I was dead on the turn."
He collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.
"Tenth place," he muttered. "Final table bubble boy. I was so close."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "How much did you cash for?"
"$3,800," he grumbled. "But emotionally? I'm bankrupt."
Lance, meanwhile, hadn't said a word. He was locked in—expression unreadable, posture tense.
Then the announcement flashed on his screen:
"Final Table Reached – Top 9 Remaining"
The table reshuffled. Avatars blinked into new positions, the final nine were seated, and the payout amounts ticked upward.
Kenji sat up straight as the banner flashed across Lance's screen:
[Final Table Reached – 9 Players Remaining.]
"Wait... you made it?" he asked, blinking.
Lance didn't look away from his screen. "Ninth. Barely."
Kenji leaned over, curious—until his eyes widened at the hand history.
"Wait. Wait. What the hell—" He pointed, half-shouting. "You folded Aces?!"
Lance gave a calm shrug. "It wasn't easy."
Kenji clutched his head like the universe had personally betrayed him. "Who folds pocket rockets?! You might as well uninstall the app and take up knitting."
"Someone," Lance said flatly, "who's trying to make sure his best friend doesn't get his kneecaps broken."
That shut Kenji up for half a second.
Lance leaned back slightly, recalling the hand. "From what I'd seen, the guy who busted in 10th only shoved with AK, AA, or KK. He was the short stack and tight as hell. I was next in line."
Kenji's voice cracked in disbelief. "You were literally about to click the all-in button—"
"I hovered," Lance corrected. "Then I thought about the payout jump. From 10th to 9th? That's thousands. You don't win tournaments by flipping coins when you don't need to."
He scrolled back through the replay.
"The guy had AA. The caller had KK. A third king hit the flop."
Kenji went silent.
Lance finally turned and looked him in the eye. "So yeah. I folded aces. And I'm glad I did."
Kenji slumped onto the couch, defeated. "I hate how much sense that makes."
Amara, watching from the other side of the room, tossed a cushion at Kenji. "You'd have called and busted."
The final table had been a bloodbath.
One player busted in 9th almost immediately. Another in 8th after a failed river bluff. Lance had stayed tight, picked his spots, and even pulled off a bold check-raise bluff that got a fold from the table's chip leader.
But now, the blinds were massive, and stacks were getting shallow.
Lance sat with 16 big blinds, seventh in chips.
Then it happened.
He was dealt Q♣️Q♦️ on the button.
"Hmm…"
Before him, the middle-position player opened to 2.2BB.
Lance didn't hesitate. He 3-bet shoved.
The small blind folded. The big blind folded.
The original raiser snap-called.
Opponent: K♠️K♥️
Lance: Q♣️Q♦️
"Damn," Kenji muttered under his breath. "That's just brutal."
The flop came: Q♥️ 6♠️ K♦️
Mila's hand flew to her mouth. "No way..."
Set-over-set. A classic poker tragedy.
Turn: 2♣️
River: 9♠️
Lance's screen dimmed slightly, signaling the end of his run.
A pop-up flashed: [You finished in 7th place – Payout: $15,800]
xxxxxx
Later that night, the celebration began to quiet. Empty beer and soda cans lined the coffee table, and the only sound was them discussing their day.
"You took home $3,800 from the prize pool," Lance said, "plus 13 knockouts at $112.50 each. That's $1,462.50 in bounties."
Kenji threw his hands up. "Over five grand?!"
"You spent $750 in buy-ins," Amara reminded him flatly.
"Still over $4,500 profit," Lance confirmed. "Not bad for a guy who busts more than a piñata at a birthday party."
Kenji clutched his heart. "You wound me—but fairly."
Lance continued. "Mila, you made $1,600. Take out your $550 buy-in, that's a clean $1,050."
"Efficient as always," she said, already jotting notes in her finance app.
"And Amara—seven knockouts, $787.50. Minus your $250 buy-in, that's $537.50 profit."
Amara nodded coolly. "Could've been more if someone hadn't made me watch him go broke twice."
"I was creating tension!" Kenji protested as he reached forward to grab another can of beer.
Finally, all eyes turned to Lance.
"$15,800," he said simply. "One bullet. $550 buy-in. $15,250 profit. So, in total, we made $21,350."
"Not bad," Kenji said, grinning as he leaned back and kicked his feet up. "We're basically rich."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "There's still $100,000 to go."
Kenji froze mid-sip. "...Minor detail."
"That's barely a fifth of what we owe," Mila muttered, crossing her arms. "And this took how long? A week of prep and a six-hour grind?"
"Seven hours," Amara corrected. "And two meltdowns."
Lance leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "We're making progress, but we're still $78,650 short. And we only have—what? Five and a half months left?"
Kenji's smile faltered. "That's… a lot of tournaments."
Mila nodded. "At this pace, we need to clear over $15K per month to stay on track."
"And that's assuming we all win consistently," Amara added. "Which, let's be honest, isn't guaranteed."
A silence settled over them. The post-tournament glow dimmed slightly.
"Oh well…" Mila tried to cheer everyone up. "If we really can't do it at the end of the 6-month period, I can always cry and bail Kenji out of trouble."
Just as Kenji was about to say something, Lance stopped him. "Mila, we are in our early twenties now and are about to graduate. We really shouldn't be using your waterworks anymore."
Defeated, Kenji could only sigh. "Yeah, at most, Dad will just disown me. He'll still pay off the debt, so at least I don't have to start a new life as a poor man."
Everyone rolled their eyes, but they were all thinking the same thing, We are the ones who will suffer if you are poor.