Mom followed Aggie to the kitchen and perched herself on a stool at the breakfast bar. Yawning, Aggie started a pot of coffee brewing and leaned against the counter across from her mother.

“What’s with you?” Mom asked. “You get laid or something?”

“Huh?” How on earth would her mother know that?

“You’re walking all bowlegged.”

“Shut up,” Aggie said. “I am not.”

“If you say so.” Mom gave her an appraising look, reached into her purse, and retrieved her pack of cigarettes again. “Men. Jackasses. All of them.”

Normally, Aggie would agree, but she’d found one last night she kind of liked. One who apparently made her walk bowlegged. “They’re not all bad.”

Mom thumped another cigarette out of the pack, put it between her lips, and lit it. “Shit, you found a man, didn’t you?”

Aggie shrugged. “Not really.”

Mom took a deep drag off her cigarette, smoke curling around her head as it floated to the ceiling. Aggie really wished she wouldn’t smoke in her house, but with this woman there were so many battles, Aggie had to pick the ones she was willing to fight.

“Not really?” Mom lifted her penciled eyebrows at her. “What’s his name? Is he nice?”

“There’s no guy, Mom.” Aggie said, shaking her head. She was unwilling to tell her mother anything about Jace. Not even his name. She wouldn’t describe how attractive she found him or how his rare laugh warmed her heart. And would especially never mention how he fulfilled her sexually in a way no other man ever had. She knew if she confided even the tiniest detail, her mother would point out everything negative, until Aggie lost sight of how wonderful he was. Mom always did that.

“So what’s going on with you?” Aggie asked. Mom never showed up unless she needed something. Even when Aggie had been a kid, her mother had been more absent from her life than present. The woman was always chasing one unlikely dream or another. Having a kid had never been a dream—more of a burden. She was far more likely to run from her parenting obligations than embrace them. Aggie had come to terms with that years ago.

The coffee pot gurgled as it spewed the last of the brew into the carafe. The heady aroma of strong coffee perfused the cozy kitchen. Aggie turned to fill two mugs. She shoveled several spoonfuls of sugar into her mother’s cup, taking her own black.

Her mother accepted the mug between her bony hands and took a sip. “I had this great idea to finally get you out of that strip club.”

Aggie rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? I like working there. I don’t dance because I have to. I dance because I want to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Agatha.” She shook her head dismissively. “I bought a book on the Internet.”

“A book? What kind of book?”

“On how to win at slots. Guaranteed.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yeah. And I tried out the method.” She smiled brightly. “I won a couple grand.”

“That’s great. You can pay down your credit cards.”

Mom took another drag off her cigarette. Slurped some coffee. Took her time about getting to the point. “So I thought if I can start with fifty bucks and make two thousand, then if I start with fifty thousand, I could make two million.” She pointed her cigarette at Aggie and offered her a wink. “I was always good at math.”

Aggie’s heart sank. “What did you do, Mom?”

“Well, what do you think? I took out a loan and went to the casino. I kept thinking I would get ahead. I followed the book to the letter.”

Oh shit. “How much did you lose?”

Mom stared at the glowing tip of her cigarette. “Well, after I lost the first fifty grand—”

“Fifty grand!”

“I borrowed another fifty and…” She shrugged, took the last drag off her cigarette, and finding no available ashtray, crushed it on Aggie’s granite countertop.

“You lost a hundred thousand dollars in slots!”

“Oh, no no no no no,” Mom said, shaking her head vigorously.

Aggie sucked in a deep breath of relief.

“I only lost fifty grand in slots. The other fifty I lost at roulette.” She smiled sweet as syrup.

“What is wrong with you?” Aggie shouted.

“I wanted to get you out of that club, sugar. That’s all.”

“Mother! Don’t you dare try to make this my fault.” Aggie rubbed her face with both hands. She had a few thousand dollars in the bank and another grand in the sink in her master bathroom, but she’d just remodeled this house for her side business, so her liquid assets were minimal. No way could she come up with a hundred grand to pay off that loan. “Wait a minute.” She pinned her mother with a hard stare. “Who in the hell would loan you money? Your credit is shit.”

Mom shrugged, twisting her garish red hair around one finger. “Oh, some guys.”

“Some guys?”

She scrunched her eyebrows together and pursed her lips. “I think they’re members of the Mafia,” she whispered and glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting to see them standing behind her with sandy shovels.

“What?”

Mom flinched. “Don’t you yell at me, young lady!”

Aggie paced the galley area of the kitchen, chewing on the end of her finger. “When are you supposed to pay them back?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Mom cringed. “I do not like your tone, Agatha. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even exist.”

“How soon?”

“Three weeks ago.” She tapped another cigarette out of the pack and lit it.

Aggie found it impossible to close her mouth. Or breathe. “And you tell me this now?” she sputtered finally.

“I know how busy you are. I didn’t want to bother you with my little problems.”

And now Aggie was hyperventilating. “Little! I suppose you owe them interest as well.”

“Of course. Who gives loans without charging interest?” Mom said and took a deep drag off cigarette number two. She pulled the butt from her mouth and stared at its glowing ember as she slowly exhaled and drew smoke into both nostrils.

“How much?”

“Twenty percent.”

“Annually?”

Mom laughed, a billow of smoke erupting from her mouth. She lifted her blue-eyed gaze to Aggie’s. “They don’t do annual loans, sugar. I really thought I’d be a high roller right now, with no problem paying everything back and setting up both of us for life—somewhere other than Vegas. I’m tired of Vegas. Aren’t you?” She shrugged and took another drag off her cigarette. “How do you feel about Tahiti?”