Gambling With EVERY Influencer!

We are back in Vegas baby! This time I brought the entire team with me. We have a lot of fun stuff planned for you guys and obviously going to be crushing an insane amount of content over the next week. I love you all so much thank you for liking and subscribing or even just watching and leaving a hate comment. Obviously this one was a complete blast to film. Anytime you get to hang out with your friends and do what you normally like to do and all you have to do is record it, its a great day. We all rode the numbers together and then fought a blackjack war. There are a lot of ups and downs as usual but in the end, everybody gets a little dumber from watching this video. I love you all so much. You're also so beautiful without you, I would be a speck of dust. Can't wait to show you guys what we have been working on. See you in the next one. #money #gambling #blackjack #roulette #casino #comedy #craps

Brettski stood under the blinking lights of the Plaza Casino in downtown Vegas, heart pounding like the bass in a nightclub. He adjusted his sunglasses — even though it was 11 p.m. — and turned to his crew, a rowdy circle of longtime friends already deep into their third round of tequila shots.

“This is it,” Brettski said, holding up the wad of cash like a trophy. “Two thousand dollars. One night. One run.”

They hollered in support, slapping his back and tossing high-fives like confetti. Inside, the casino buzzed with life — chips clacked, slot machines sang, and the air smelled like stale cigars and adrenaline. Brettski made a beeline for the roulette table, his chosen arena. The table glowed like a stage under warm yellow lights, already crowded with hopefuls, but space opened up like fate was clearing a path.

He tossed the full $2,000 in crisp hundreds on the felt. The dealer gave him a look — not quite disbelief, not quite encouragement — and pushed a stack of chips toward him.

“Red,” Brettski said.

A collective gasp rippled through his friends. They leaned in. Phones came out. Drinks froze mid-sip. No splitting bets. No playing it safe. Just red.

The dealer gave the wheel a spin, flicked the ball in the opposite direction. The world slowed. The wheel clacked in rhythmic tension as the white ball danced, flirted with the numbered pockets like a cruel tease.

Brettski didn’t blink. His sunglasses stayed on.

The ball bounced once. Twice. A third time.

Then — it landed.

But before the table reacted, a shout rang out behind them. One of the friends spun toward the noise. Brettski turned too, momentarily distracted, the dealer’s face unreadable.

“Dude,” someone whispered, “I think we just—”

Cut to black.