“Welcome to the Silver Wheel Gambling House. Would you like a drink, ma’am?”

Panic was the first reaction, always. Thus far, no one had ever sat down to the table and opened their eyes calmly. Which was reasonable. It was all very reasonable to want to shout and scream and rush for the exit. And yet, nobody ever did. The panic came, and the panic passed, aided by the mellow atmosphere and scented smoke that wafted around them. It was designed to subdue the most violent of reactions. But nothing could subdue the confusion.

“...where am I?”

“As I said, ma’am, this is the Silver Wheel Gambling House. I am your waitress, Teresa, and I am waiting to take your order.”

Typically, Teresa was the first thing they registered, outside the general atmosphere of a classy, upscale establishment. She was a white-haired woman, with a pretty, youthful face underlined by an obvious yet unobtrusive layer of makeup, paling her skin and plumping her lips to a brilliant shade of red. Her clothes were sharp and professional, form-fitting, although she didn’t have much form to speak of: nothing to fill men with lust, or women with envy. In fact, outside her vividly blue eyes, everything about her was designed, it seemed, to allow her to slip into the background. Spotlight did not complement her.

The next thing guests would notice, by and by, was their surroundings, as they scanned the room for details. It looked like a casino, but with most all the lights stripped away and only one table. Music (in this case, “Heaven Beside You”, from Alice in Chains) streamed in from unseen speakers. The smell of alcohol, lingering cigarette smoke, and salt stained the heavy air. The few lights that were on were dull and yellow, hanging low from the ceiling, illuminating a few key features of the room:

A seat, just for them.

The table they were seated at, and the face-down card they’d been dealt.

The dealer, in this case a tall, muscular latin boy with styled hair and a wide smile.

And their opponent, sitting on the far end of the table.

“Wait- what’s she doing here?”

An accusatory finger was jabbed at her opponent, a thinner, younger woman with purple highlights, rattier clothes, and shark teeth dangling from her ears. This woman, for her part, seemed less surprised and more exasperated.

“Oh, god. This dream just got worse.”

“Please do not call this a dream.” The waitress replied in a near-robotic monotone. “This is the Silver Wheel Gambling House, and you two are our guests. Now please tell me what you want to drink, so we may begin.”

“Begin what?”

“If you got questions, it might be better to ask me instead.” The man at the head of the table interjected, leaning forward with a sly, silvery grin. “I’m Juan, your dealer for tonight’s game.”

Both women looked at him suspiciously. But finally, the woman in purple spoke up.

“...dry martini.”

“Um… water?”

From the murk, behind a frosted window, another rough, male voice shouted at them..

“You both suck!”

“Please ignore him.” The waitress assured them with a small and lifeless smile. “I shall get your drinks right away. Enjoy your game.”

She walked away, her heels making no noise as they glided across the wooden floor. All eyes settled on Juan, who seemed to relish the attention. After drinking it in for a spell, he finally spoke.

“This is your first time at the Silver Wheel Gambling House, I take it? For both of you?”

“Yeah…”

“Sure.”

“Well, this is no place for frowns, people: this is a house of joy!” He beamed, “Let’s introduce ourselves, alright? As I said, I’m Juan, and I’ll be your dealer. And you?”

The woman with the purple highlights shrugged.

“Anne.”

“I’m Margaret…”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Anne and Margaret! Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you two know each other, is that right?”

The two exchanged a glare that only a long, cold familiarity could possibly produce.

“...yes, we do.” Margaret sighed.

“Oho, I sense some history. Well, it’s not my place to pry, but hopefully you two will get the chance to reconcile one day. Maybe even here!”

“Enough with all this small-talk bullshit. The hell are we doing here?”

“Why, you’re here to gamble, Anne!”

“I don’t gamble….” Margaret frowned.

“And that’s fine! You’re more than welcome to leave at any time. But you should know, before you go, this is no normal gambling house.”

“No shit. One minute I’m falling asleep at my boyfriend’s place, the next minute I’m here. I think we all know some serious tomfuckery is going on and I want to know what. Because if this is just a lucid dream I’d-”

Anne didn’t finish her sentence. While using her fingers to act out shooting the woman on the other end of the table, her elbow bumped into the martini she had ordered. Its sudden appearance was enough to make Margaret notice the waitress next to her, putting down the glass of water she had asked for. There was a slice of lemon on the rim.

“Feel free to ask if you want anything else, ma’am.” The waitress bowed to both of them, stepping away into the many shadows of the parlor.

“Well, no, Anne, this isn’t a dream. Not exactly.” Juan continued. “Here, in the Silver Wheel Gambling house, we allow people to wager almost anything.”

“...eh?”

“It’s exactly as I said.” Juan’s sunny grin grew all the brighter. “You may gamble almost anything. Your money. Your experience. Your talents. Your past and your future. We accept almost anything, but we do have a few simple rules.”

He raised a finger to begin his count.

“First of all: you can only gamble what’s yours. So that means no gambling things you share, or the people in your life. The only exception is time: you cannot directly bet the remaining years of your life, because they’re not ‘yours’ yet. You can, however, wager health.”

The song stopped playing, and a few moments of silence cut through the room. Abruptly, “Take me Home, Country Road” took its place.

“Secondly, both parties must agree the wager is even before the games can begin. Once the agreement is made, no one can leave the table until the game is over. Trying to leave the table beforehand will result in an immediate forfeit, so make sure you’re ready for what you could lose. But be excited about what you could win!”

He laughed, the good-natured, hearty laugh of someone uncomfortably sincere.

“Finally, if you’re caught cheating, you immediately forfeit the game as well. So remember what your mothers taught you: cheaters never prosper!”

Anne glared at Margaret. Margaret glared back. John Denver, Bill Danoff, and Taffy Nivert serenaded them both. The wooden chair under one of the women squeaked.

“So. Who wants to play?”

“Oh, goodness, this seems very, um, exciting, but I’d like to pass.” Margaret stood up. “As I said, I don’t really gamble, and there’s nothing I really want… and really I’d just like to wake up as quickly as possible.”

“I wanna play.” Anne snapped. “Sit back down. Maaaaaaaarrrgret.”

The older woman’s eye twitched.

“...you don’t have anything I want.”

“Of course I do.” Anne leaned forward, strumming her hand over the card in front of her. “And you have lots that I want.

“I already told you-”

“-I’ll wager my love.”

Margaret did a double take. Suddenly, green-and-white chips were on Anne’s side of the table, three evenly-sized stacks of ten. Her mouth was slightly ajar as Anne started fingering the tokens, flipping them inexpertly between her chapped fingers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To have your little girl back? Well. This is your one chance, Maaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggrreeeeettttt.”

Margaret paused. Fingers hovering over the card, her untouched drink slowly sweating onto a cork coaster. Her eyes, a shallow but pretty shade of gray, jumped between her card and Anne’s taunting face. The mother couldn’t hide the hurt in her eyes as she saw the physical manifestation of her daughter’s love being used against her. Nor could she hide her desire for it. For so long she had lived in its absence, being promised it now made her acutely aware how badly she had been yearning for it, all this time.

Slowly, she sat back down.

“What do you want, Anne?”

“Money. Of course.”

“How much money is worth your love?”

“I’d say forty thousand.”

“I don’t have that much.”

“No shit. Then how about twenty thousand and Dad’s trust?”

She bit her lower lip.

“...I-I don’t think I can gamble that.”

“Of course you can!” The dealer cheerfully interjected. “He gave his trust to you, so it’s yours to wager.”

“Oh. Um… I’m not sure…”

“Come on, Margaret.” Anne goaded. “He’ll still love you, right? So you can just earn his trust again. And you could get my love, too. We could be a happy little family again, isn’t that what you want?”

Margaret stiffened.

“Fine. Twenty thousand dollars, and Bo’s trust.”

And even more chips appeared: red and white and in three even stacks, this time at Margaret’s side of the table. At their appearance, Margaret felt suddenly empty, as if her soul had been drained of something deep and meaningful. She felt the sudden urge to run as panic spiked through her system, but she knew that if she left these chips on the table, whatever was missing would never come back. Her hysteria passed. And she took a breath.

“Then we can begin.” Juan grinned, drawing two cards. “The game... is five card stud.”

Five card stud. While the exact history of the game is a mystery (although it can be assumed, like every parlor card game, it can trace its roots back to pre-18th century France), it’s known to have first come into existence during the American Civil War, alongside other stud-based poker games. The seven-card variety was the most popular amongst American military men, becoming the game of choice for most Americans until the 1980’s, when Texas Hold ‘Em overtook it in both professional and casual popularity. The five-card version, on the other hand, became far more popular in Finland, where it’s called “Sökö” and is played with special rules.

But this was the standard American ruleset. Each player starts with two cards: one face-down, and one face-up. The player with the lowest-ranking face-up card makes the opening bet (at least, in modern casinos), and the other player can call (to match the bet), fold (to give up) or raise (bet even more than the other player, forcing them to match, raise, or fold). Then, the dealer passes out the next two face-up cards, and the player with the higher-ranking face-up cards starts the next round of betting. Once each player has four face-up cards on the table, the players make their final wagers, show their face-down cards, and resolve the hand.

“The ante is three chips.” Juan dutifully informed them as he slid over their first face-up card. “Each stack has ten chips, so you each have thirty in total.”

Anne got a six of clubs. Margaret got a ten of the same suit. Glancing at the face-down card she had in front of her, she saw she had a King of spades.

In poker, there are nine valuable hands. From least to most valuable, they are:

* A pair, or two cards of the same rank (2, 3, Jack, King, etc.)

* Two pair, having two sets of pairs.

* Three of a kind, or having three cards of the same rank.

* A straight, or having five cards in a sequence.

* A flush, or five cards of the same suit.

* A full house, which is a hand with both three of a kind and a pair.

* Four of a kind, having four cards of the same rank.

* A straight flush, having a straight and a flush at the same time.

* A royal flush, which was an Ace, King, Queen, Jack, and Ten of the same suit.

Margaret was no gambling expert, but she knew the basics from watching her husband play. Her hand wasn’t valuable right now, but she knew that she had a decent chance to get a straight, which was a pretty good hand. All she’d need was a Jack, a Queen, and either an ace or a nine. But it wasn’t enough to bet on. Not yet.

She looked up at Anne. She was staring at her face-down card for a suspiciously long time, occasionally glancing up herself to match eyes with her opponent. Her martini was half-empty already.

“Anne has first bet.” Juan started, although his professional veneer dropped a bit. “There is no bet limit, by the way. Sorry for not saying that earlier.”

“Hmm.” Anne muttered. “I’ll bet one.”

She tossed the chip into the pot. Margaret called.

“Very good.”

He burnt the top card of the deck, and dealt each player their next card: Anne got the ace of hearts, while Margaret got a King of hearts. Internally, her own heart gave a little leap: it wasn’t a straight, but a pair of kings meant she actually had something on the board. A winning hand, assuming Anne’s face-down card wasn’t an Ace.

“Aces high. Anne has the bet again.”

Anne chuckled, and took another drink.

“Kinda funny, ain’t it Margaret? This is the most we’ve spoken in a long, long time. And I’m still half-convinced it’s a dream.”

“...I hope it’s not.” Margaret replied stiffly. “...if it means I can get your love back.”

“That’s rich.”

“I’ve tried everything else.” Despite herself, her poker face was breaking. “I’ve called, I’ve written, I’ve begged… I wish I didn’t have to literally gamble money to get it back, but this is the first chance you’ve ever given me.”

“And if I’m lucky, it’ll be the last.”

Despite her strong, painful words, she didn’t bet. But Margaret did, throwing two chips into the middle of the table. Anne called. Twelve chips in the pot so far. At least six of them represented Anne’s love. The other six… some combination of trust and money. She wasn’t very good at math, but that had to mean each chip was worth… something like 600 dollars? The realization chilled her again. That was a lot of cash.

The third face-up card was dealt. Anne was on the board, suddenly, with a six of diamonds. But then Margaret, sucking in her breath, was dealt a ten of spades. She had two pair. Anne looked irritated, and checked her face-down card again.

“Margaret starts with a pair, ten high.”

“I’ll wager-”

“Don’t bother, I fold.”  Anne huffed, crossing her arms. Margaret’s earlier chill transformed into an exhilarated rush of adrenaline as the chips she had wagered were returned to her, as well as six beautiful green-and-white chips. She took the time to stack them neatly as Juan retrieved the cards and shuffled the deck.

“You know, this is kind of fun.” She hummed as she finished stacking her winnings. “I can see why your father does this so often.”

“It’s not a game, mom. This is serious.”

“I know. I’m treating it very seriously. I hope you see that.”

“Ugh. Just deal.”

Juan did as he was told as the pair offered their ante. The first card was dealt face-down: Margaret peaked at it, and saw a two of clubs. A bad start. But her disappointment turned right around when her face-up card was another two, this time of spades. Anne was dealt a seven of clubs.

“Margaret bets first.”

“...you know, when we’re a family again, maybe we can do a family poker night.” Margaret suggested with a smile. “That might be fun, right? Your dad would love it.”

“Course you’d like that.” Anne muttered, looking away. “You’ve always been good at taking my money.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just bet!”

Margaret frowned, but glanced at her card again, pretending to think. She was off to a good start, but her husband always told her that being too excited with your bet was suspicious, and would lead to the other party folding quickly. So she played it cool.

“Nothing this time, I think.”

“Same.”

The top card was burnt. Anne’s next card was an eight of clubs, which meant she could possibly have a straight, a flush, or even both in the most unlikely of cases. Margaret got a Queen of hearts: useless, outside giving her the chance to bet first.

It was only now that she realized “Pinball Wizard” had been playing for the past two minutes.

“I’ll bet one.”

“...fine.”

The chips were pooled and an uncomfortable silence had settled over the table, one that Juan respected with brisk movements that minimized the clatter of the table. He dealt Anne an eight of hearts - giving her an exposed pair of eights - while dealing Margaret her first bad draw of the game, an ace of spades. She was stuck with a pair of twos: and for all she knew Anne had an even better hand.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Anne wordlessly tossed two chips into the pot. Margaret paused, but didn’t back down. She could bet two now and fold next turn if it looked bad: all it would do was even out their chips.

“Final card.” Juan announced, dropping Anne a King of spades, but giving Margaret… the two of hearts! Three of a kind! She was bursting with joy despite her thoughtful expression: unless Anne’s hidden card was an eight, she won!

“A pair, eight-high. Any wagers, Anne?”

At this, Anne considered. Scratching her chin a little bit as her eyes darted: to Margaret, to the pot, to her own waning pool of chips,and to the dealer, who was smiling, either oblivious of the tension or relishing in it. But then she clasped one coin, and dropped it into the pot.

“One.”

Margaret smiled,matched her chip, and threw in another.

“I’ll raise.”

Anne paused again. She looked to be in a certain kind of agony. Indescribable and untouchable, but one that Margaret could feel from across the table despite her best-crafted poker face. And in that moment, Margaret dropped her guard, and leaned forward.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, we do.”

“This isn’t how I wanted to get your love back in the first place. There’s no need for this… this theater.”

“It’s not theater, mom.” She said, steeling her resolve and dropping the extra coin into the pot. “I’m in.”

Margaret sighed, but slouched back against her chair: the victory was tainted by her daughter’s stubbornness. She had always been like this. Prone to over-react. To make a drama out of the smallest things. Now she was putting twenty grand on the line because she didn’t want to talk it over like adults.

But it was going well, at least. Better, when Anne flipped her hidden card and revealed a seven: two pair. A good hand… but not as good as three of a kind. And when Margaret revealed her hand, Anne released a deep, almost pained moan.

“Sorry, honey.” She tried to appear apologetic as the pot was added to her side of the table: giving her fourteen of her daughter's chips. Almost half. Anne was visibly flustered, and tears were starting to swell in her eyes: a sight no mother should cherish. “But I think you’ll be happier if I win. You want us to be a family again as much as I do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Is that really what you think?!”

“Yes.”

“Why would I be happier loving you?! So you can hurt me again? Use me again?!”

“I never used you. I was looking out for you, sweetie. I’ll admit I made a mistake but I did it because I love you and I wanted to help and-”

“If you want to help.” She snarled, chugging the last of her drink before slamming it on the table. “Forfeit right now. Come on, mom. Show me how much you love me. It’s still possible to earn my love the ol’ fashioned way. The way you wanted. The way you said.”

Juan looked to Margaret, patiently. As if there was a chance she would actually give up. But the older woman could only sadly shake her head.

“If I trusted that my doing so would work, I would in a heartbeat.”

“This is why I hate you, mom. You’re all sweet and nice words until you actually have to do something. You’re the worst.”

“It’s for your own good, honey. Could you please deal us again, Juan?”

Margaret got an ten and a face-up Jack, both diamonds. Anne showed a five of hearts. She bet two chips, which Margaret was happy to call: she had been lucky all night, and she was in a good spot to get either a straight or a flush. And her good feeling paid off when she was dealt a nine of diamonds, which made Jaun pause, just for a moment, before dealing Anne a King of clubs. She glanced at her own cards, then Margaret’s irritably.

“Kings high. Anne bets again.”

“Sure. What the hell. Two more.”

Margaret wanted to raise, of course. She knew logically it was a bad idea, as threatening a straight flush and actually getting one are two very different things. And in a game like stud, where there’s no draw phase, the odds of getting such a hand were astronomically low. All the same… a certain thrill had gripped her heart at this point. An excitement and optimism she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that things would turn out okay, no matter what the odds were. Through faith, hard work, and a little bit of luck, anything could happen: she believed that five years ago, and she believed it now.

“I’ll call and raise two.”

Anne looked at her hand again, then at the pot, sitting at sixteen chips… which would be at least eighteen, assuming she didn’t fold. An analytical eye would know for certain such a raise would have to come from sheer bravado: with only one hidden card, at best all she could have was a Jack-high pair. And with two cards left to deal, Anne probably figured she had lots of chances for luck to turn.

So she called. Eighteen chips in the pot. And Anne’s side of the table was looking downright barren: only seven tokens of her love were left to wager.  Which could all turn around if she won this hand, but then Margaret was dealt a two of diamonds: she no longer risked a straight flush, but she was one card away from a flush: still one of the best hands you could hope for in a game like five-card stud.

That, however, was when Anne got a King of spades.

The frigid, tense thrill of a stand-off gripped both sides of the table, freezing everything, even the sound of their own breathing and heartbeats. Were it not for a muted “Free Bird” playing in the background, they could have heard the sound of a pin dropping.

Anne had a pair showing. King-high. That, currently, would win the hand. Even if Margaret was dealt a Jack for a pair, a pair of kings would outrank it, and Anne would take the pot. And given Anne’s high bet earlier, it wasn’t unlikely she already had a pair… or worse, a third king.

But a flush beats even three pair. And Anne wasn’t showing a single diamond. There was a chance, a little less than one in four if her math was right, that she’d get a fifth diamond. And then she’d win. Margaret could tell Anne knew that as well. From the terror that reflected in those beautiful eyes of hers. One lucky draw, and she’d basically have her family back.

Juan broke the silence with the obliviousness of a sledgehammer.

“Anne’s showing a pair. She has first bet.”

Anne put a finger on the top of her small stack of remaining chips. Her nails looked awful: unpainted and clearly gnawed on. She’d never known Anne to chew her nails. Or to dye her hair. She’d have to help her deal with the finger-chewing thing when she got back home. Get her some fake nails to hide the damage. And some bleach or what have you to get that awful, unnatural shade out of her scalp.

She hadn’t decided if she was betting or not. Margaret leaned forward again.

“This is clearly stressing you out, honey. Just give up and come home.”

“Why? The odds are in my favor.”

“Maybe. But I’ve been very lucky so far. And I think that, maybe, it’s fate that I’m doing so well.”

“Fate?”

“Yes, sweetie. It’s only natural for families to come together, in the end. Isn’t that right?”

Anne stopped tapping the top of her stack of chips.

“...yeah. Yeah, maybe it is.”

She shook her head, a long, drawn-out sigh escaping from her naked lips. Another thing they’d have to fix when she moved back in. She didn’t look pretty at all without makeup.

“But you know what, mom? Maybe we’d still be a family if you weren’t so good at pushing us apart.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You stole my college fund.”

“I stole nothing. It was my money. And I was going to use it to make money, to be my own boss. All I had to do-”

“Five seconds of research!” Anne cut her off with an abrupt, pent-up screech. Teresa, who neither of them had noticed was replacing her martini, paused. “It took me five seconds of research to know that was a pyramid scheme! But you trusted some painted whore selling snake oil over your own daughter!”

Margaret grew red in the face, and her cheeks flared. Still, like a lady, she kept her voice moderate, and increased sharpness instead of volume.

“I was investing in my home business, and in the process, investing in you. If I had stuck to it we could have made that money back, and then some. But you never believed me. And you ran off and destroyed my family before you gave me the chance to succeed.”

“You’re right, I never believed in you, and I don’t care what these freaks say, I never will. All! In!”

She pushed what was left of her chips into the pot. All seven. Making the pot twenty-five chips strong. If Margaret called, it would be thirty-two chips in the pot.

If she lost: she’d be down to twenty-eight chips, and Anne would have an edge, but she’d still be firmly in the game.

But if she won… she could end things right now.

And she was feeling very, very lucky.

“Well. Lucky for me…” Margaret grinned, grabbing seven of the green-and-white chips that represented her daughter’s love “...that doesn’t matter.”

And she dropped them into the pot.

Juan drew the first card. As with every round before, he dealt to Margaret first.

It was a Queen.

A Queen… of clubs.

Anne loudly exhaled as she slouched into her seat, not even looking at the four of hearts that had been dealt to her. With one hand rubbing her eyes, she flipped the upside-down card; it was an ace. She only had pair, but it was more than enough to beat Margaret’s worthless hand.

Anne won the round. And as the chips that had been in the center were slid over to her side of the table, where they remained in an unorganized pile, the tension and anxiety that had been overflowing from her side of the table suddenly dried up. She stopped slouching, raked the chips closer to her, and shot her opponent another cocky smile.

“Thanks for the chips, Margaret.”

“This isn’t over and you know it, hone-”

“Don’t call me that, Maaaarrrrrrrrgggggrrrrreeeeeet. It’s inappropriate.”

Margaret bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. That spoiled little bitch, why was she going through all this trouble for such an ungrateful brat again?! All that time away from home must have twisted her mind: when she had her love back, they’d have to double-down on fixing all these problematic behaviors.

Anne anted her required three, but Margaret paused as she hovered over her smaller stack. Three chips. Each one about 600 dollars. It was costing her 1800 dollars every time a hand was drawn. 1800 dollars just to play. When she had already spent so much money and time raising this brat across the table. How on earth was this fair?! What did she ever do to deserve this?!

“Something wrong?” Juan asked, bringing her back to the game. “Do you want another drink, Margaret?”

“Don’t call me-” She nearly snapped. Stopped when she saw the concern and hurt in his eyes.  She exhaled, once, twice, and shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I think she’s freaking out. She always freaks out when she loses control.”

Margaret didn’t respond. She just dropped her chips into the center of the table.

Her first face-down card was a Queen of spades. Her face-up card was a Queen of hearts. She already had two pair. Anne's first face-up card, however, was an ace. Margaret had first bet, and getting a pair in her first hand was pretty good. And she wasn’t feeling very modest right now.

“Four.”

She dropped four chips into the pot. Anne whistled.

“Must be a hell of a hand.”

“You’re free to fold.”

“At this point? Never.”

She called, and the next cards were dropped. Margaret got a Jack of hearts: useless, but it made it appear she threatened a straight. Which would have been fine… if Anne wasn’t dealt another ace, giving her the better hand… both seen and unseen. Margaret took her first sip of water through clenched teeth.

“Not a bad hand. You’re free to fold if you’d like.”

Anne said, dropping four more chips into the pot. Eighteen strong now. It was true that Margaret’s hand couldn’t compete as-is, the question was if it was worth cutting her losses. Folding now would lose her seven chips… seven chips, that was forty-two hundred dollars. Numbers that high bleached her mind. How was she supposed to just give up on forty-two hundred dollars?! There were still two cards to the hand: there was still a decent shot for three of a kind, or two pair.

“Call. And you’d better watch your tone, young lady.”

“Fuck off. Margaret.”

All of a sudden, without being quite aware of it herself, Margaret was standing, and her chair was tipped over on the floor. She hadn’t intended such a violent reaction, but the button had been pressed one time too many, and the boiling blood made it hard to hear her better senses.

“I said watch your tongue!”

“And I said fuck off!” Anne shouted right back, although she didn’t stand for effect.

“Why can’t you even appreciate what I’m doing?! I’m gambling twenty thousand for your love and you don’t even seem to care! Why are you such a selfish, crude, thoughtless brat?!”

Anne laughed. The cruel laugh of someone who felt utterly justified in their contempt. Confident and knowing and completely beyond negotiation.

“Why should I appreciate this? It’s what you always do. Gambling money and trust and love for your own selfish ends. It’s what drove us apart in the first place. Y’know. When you gambled with my future and lost.”

“I didn’t lose!”

“You lost your money and your daughter, how is that not losing?”

“Because I’m going to get at least one back today! Dealer! Hurry up!”

She sat back down, fuming at the exchange, and even angrier that she didn’t have the cards to back it up. But she knew fate. She’d worked hard, and hard work was rewarded: and in her rage-fueled conviction, she was rewarded -- her next card was another Jack, of spades this time. Two pair, Queens high. While sweet Anne only got a seven of clubs. Anne was showing the stronger hand… but Margaret knew she had it beat.

“I’ll bet five this time.” Anne started. The piles of chips on her side of the table were getting noticeably smaller. The same could be said of Margaret. Five chips. Three-thousand dollars. But then, she wouldn’t lose a penny if she won.

She eyeballed the pot hungrily. The only way Anne could beat her hand was if the face-down card was an ace, and judging by how easily she’d been parting with her chips, that was not unlikely. Three aces would be hard to beat, but then, it was always possible she was bluffing, as she had been at the start of the game… and if Margaret called that bluff, Anne would fold for sure next draw.

Three-thousand dollars. But after only a little bit of hesitation, she dropped it into the pot.

And then the next card was drawn.

And Margaret saw God.

A god, who blessed her with the Queen of clubs. A full house.

If there was ever such a thing as a sign, this was it. She had a full house. She was going to have a full house again. It took all her willpower not to drop to the ground and sing praise. She was sure some hint of her joy bled through: but she was showing two-pair. That was only natural. Neither Anne nor the dealer knew she had a full house just one card flip away.

But in her excitement, she forgot to check what Anne had been dealt. And when she glanced up, her euphoria was strained and her newfound will was tested. Anne had gotten her third ace.

“Three of a kind. Anne bets first.”

Anne wasn’t smiling though. A more analytical, thoughtful expression had taken its place. And her eyes, despite herself, were locked on Margaret’s face-down card. She was keenly aware of the possibilities. A single finger tapped on the green felt of the table. Each tap felt deafening. The tension and anxiety plucked at the very edge of every nerve. Margaret was going to win, goddammit, and she was going to get all her money back in the process.

“...are you scared, Anne?” Margaret prodded.

“I don’t care about you enough to be scared, Margaret.”

“It’s just that it’s been a while and you haven’t bet yet.”

“I’m thinking. You might want to try that yourself once in a while.”

“I think you are scared.”

Anne didn’t reply.

“You’re scared of loving me again because you’re scared to admit you need me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve needed me all your life. For food and clothes and to put a roof over your head. You even needed me to go to college since you’re too lazy to get a job and earn your own damn money.”

“That’s not-”

“-And look at yourself now. With that ugly hair and nails, in those ratty clothes, I bet you’re lonely and friendless. You still need me to tell you how to dress and act and how to be around other people. Without me, you’re hopeless. And you know it, but you’re too damn proud to say it.”

“None of that’s true.”

“It’s okay, Anne. You can trust me with your love. I’ll do it better this time. I’ll give you the discipline you know you need, and I’ll make us a happy, perfect family again.”

Anne was pale and stiff. She’d stopped tapping her finger. And she was looking everywhere, everywhere except at her own mother. So Margaret leaned forward. She pushed.

“Your father still asks me what we did wrong with you. It breaks his heart to think about you like this. Sometimes I even hear him crying, when he thinks I’m not around. Crying over you, no doubt. I tell him that we should forgive you and that you can do better but I’m not sure he believes me anymore. So how about we prove him wrong, together?”

And at this, Anne finally reacted. Her lips pulled back into a bitter, scornful smile. She started shaking.

“...mom…”

“...yes, dear?”

“...do you… really mean that? About dad?”

“Yes, dear.”

Anne’s eyes were swelling with tears. Her face was flush, and her deluded smile melted into a frown of distant, miserable horror. She wiped at the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.

“...c-can you… can you beat my three aces?”

“Yes, dear. I can.”

“...okay. Okay.”

She put her hands behind the rest of her chips, and pushed them forward.

“All… all in.”

Margaret was shocked silent as all of Anne’s chips were dropped into the pot. She… she had won, hadn’t she? She had finally talked some sense into her dull-witted daughter. She’d get all her money back, she’d get her family back, and be done with this terrible game. Everything she lost was right where it belonged. The full house was, indeed, destiny.

She felt short of breath when she put her hands on her chips. The weight of the dollars packed into each one weighed heavy in her hand as she dropped them into the pot. All 20 grand worth. As each chip left she felt the sting of their absence, but the full house in front offered some consolation. They wouldn’t be gone for long.

“All in.” Margaret repeated.

“Very good.” Juan smiled. “Then Margaret, why don’t you show your cards first?··”

It was only now, as she reached for the face-down card, that she realized they weren’t alone in the room. Jaun was there, but standing by a door were two other people: Teresa, their waitress, with her hands folded neatly in front of her, who had been as easy to ignore as ever. But there was also a young man with blonde hair she didn’t recognize, who was in a casual but well-tailored suit, and seemed equal parts amused and ambivalent. The both of them had been watching, but she had been so caught up in the moment she had no idea they had been there… or for how long.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She slipped her fingers under her face-down card and turned it around.

The card itself was too light to make any noise, but to Margaret, it landed with the force of a meteor. The world was shaking. And the smile on her face grew three times the size, from ear to ear, as Anne’s eyes settled, then widened, at the sight of the Queen’s painted, feminine face. Anne had lost, and all her love was back where it belonged. But it did feel good. She had her daughter back, and it hadn’t cost her a damn thing.

And look: Anne was so happy about that, she even started smiling.

“Looks like it’s game over, honey.”

“Yeah, mom.” She flipped over her own card with a defeated sigh. “...it sure is.”

It was an ace.

Margaret was struck by thunder.

“...what?”

“...Jesus Christ, I can’t believe there was ever a time I fell for your manipulative shit.” Anne snorted pitifully as she looked up, smiling, but one twisted by a bitter self-loathing. “But you know, as awful as your bullshit was, what made it worse was that you always believed it yourself.”

“You… you cheated! You lied! You sick manipulative bratty bitch! How could do that to your own mother?!”

“You did it to yourself!” She shouted back as the chips were pushed to her side of the table. “You were the one who ruined my family with your ‘get rich quick’ schemes! You were the one who couldn’t own up to her mistakes and told dad that I had spent my college money on drugs! You did everything wrong and you didn’t want to pay for any of it. And this? This barely makes up for it. But it’s a start. And the first thing I’m going to do when I wake up is tell dad everything. Now that he trusts me more than he trusts you, he’ll finally see the truth.”

“Juan, she cheated! She lied! I thought you said cheaters were disqualified! Disqualify her! Give me my money back!”

“Sorry Margaret, she didn’t cheat. She bluffed. Did a fine job of it, too.”

Margaret tried to scream. To shout, to kick, to grab the chips off Anne’s side of the table. But before she could reach, a pair of hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her away. Away from the table.

Away from the light.

Until she was surrounded by absolute darkness.

“...the winner is Anne. Congratulations!” Juan smiled carelessly despite Anne’s clearly disturbed expression, having watched her mother get dragged screaming into the void beyond the parlor. “It’s been a while since we had such an emotional game! Would you like another drink before you go?”

“...uh… um… s-sure.”

The martini glass was placed in her hands. Teresa bowed

“A dry martini. Pst. Might as well drink cold piss.” The blond-haired man dismissively spat as she took her first sip. Teresa slammed her elbow into his side. Anne ignored him.

“...so… how does this work?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Juan chuckled with a full row of white teeth. “We’ll take care of making sure you get your winnings. You might not remember this game, but we sure will!”

“Hm. I figured it was that kind of deal.” She muttered. Her paranoid eyes examined the surroundings for whatever it was that had grabbed the loser. “So... is this some kind of karma for all the terrible things she did?”

Juan shook his head.

“That sure would be nice, wouldn’t it? But this isn’t that kind of place, Anne. It’s a gambling house, and you were just the better player.”

“Oh.”

Céline Dion was on the radio now. Absolutely not what Anne was expecting, considering the other musicians that had been playing in the background. Her country-pop voice encouraging the audience to not surrender. But it was hard to relax, given what she’d been through. And what she just saw.

“...well, as cathartic as this has been, I think I’m ready to go.”

“So soon? Oh well.” Juan sighed with an unbroken smile. “In that case, I hope we get to see you again someday at the Silver Wheel Gambling House. You can show yourself out.”

“...um… you mean out the door?” She pointed, laughing nervously.

“Well, that’s what doors are for, after all!”

“And, uh… that, um… ‘thing’ that grabbed Margaret, uh…”

“Oh, don’t worry about Mr. Eight. He’s our bouncer, he only deals with troublesome guests. He’s really quite friendly most of the time!”

“He smells like shit though.” The blonde-haired man grunted.

“...right.”

“Take care, now!”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Fuck off.”

As the employees at this most unusual gambling house bid their farewells, Anne approached the frosted glass door. She put her chapped, chewed nails on the handle and gave it a twist. It opened to reveal a small waiting room, an ornate and well-stocked bar, with several stools that looked as if they had never been used before. The room was even more poorly lit than the parlor, with only one low light flickering above the polished bar: casting wide, clawing shadows across the painted walls and the gray potted plants in the corner. It was also the source of the music: she couldn’t see the radio but the music wasn’t muffled in this room.

But there was another door at the end of the bar. The frosted glass did very little to obscure the black void that waited on the other side. The way out, presumably. When she put her hand on the silver handle, the door swung open with no further provocation.

And suddenly, she was falling.

----------------------------------------

The next day, Margaret would accidentally rear-end a car during her drive to work.

Nobody was seriously hurt, but unfortunately, the car she rear-ended belonged to a very petty lawyer, who couldn’t help but notice her auto insurance had expired just the week before. He sued. If she had simply accepted the lawsuit, pled guilty, and paid the fees, she would have only lost a few thousand dollars. But she panicked. Feigned innocence. Claimed the lawyer had been drinking and driving. As each and every one of her lies were discovered, the fees and penalties went higher and higher. By the end of the case, between the lawsuit itself, the legal fees, and the car damage, she was forced to pay exactly twenty-thousand dollars.

But it was also during this court case that her husband, Bo, was forced to confront the fact that his wife was, apparently, a pathological liar. Watching the prosecution dismantle her many stories made him think to all the other things she had told him in the past, and he did some investigating; and he discovered she had lied to him about everything, even their daughter. Angry, humiliated, and full of regret, he called his daughter, hoping they could talk things out and rekindle their relationship.

Anne was more than happy to. In fact, she said she’d even pay for dinner: she had just come into twenty-thousand dollars thanks to providing information that lead to the arrest of a dangerous arsonist. She was going to spend most of that money to go to school… but she could spare a little for her dad.

They ate. They talked. They forgave.

And Anne enjoyed her winnings from the Silver Wheel Gambling House.