We’ve owned this particular business for a little over a year. Before that, we co-owned a chain of bars here in Portland and Seattle, and sold them at the height of the market, making enough money for both of us to retire. But we both love to work, and build businesses, so we decided to dive headfirst into an area that we both enjoy.

Wine.

Wine is popular right now, and it hasn’t disappointed us in the least business-wise. This year has been incredibly profitable for our company, Sips, and we’re only getting busier.

“What next?” Chase asks just as his phone rings. He scowls. “It’s Mom.”

Money.

It’s always about money.

I shake my head in disgust, but Chase answers. I’d do the same. She’s our mother.

“Hi, Mom.” He listens for a moment, then rubs the back of his hand over his mouth. That’s his “I’m gonna punch somebody I’m so frustrated” move.

“I’ll have to think about it. Because that’s a lot of money, Mom. It doesn’t matter that I can afford it, it’s a lot of money.”

“What the fuck?”

Chase shakes his head and holds up his hand. “I’ll get back to you later today. Love you too. Bye.”

He clicks off and pushes out of his chair to pace the room.

“I just paid all of their rent and utilities two weeks ago,” I say, my voice hard. “What the fuck does she want now?”

“Five grand,” he replies, and props his hands on his hips, staring out the window. “If their bills are paid, why do they need that much?”

“He’s in the hole. Again.” I scratch my scalp in agitation and stand to pace myself. “Let’s go over there.”

“Why?”

“To talk to her in person. I want her to get out of there.”

“She won’t leave him,” Chase says. “But we can go talk to her. She doesn’t sound good.”

I stand and grab my keys, Chase on my heels as we jog down to my car and drive to our mother’s house out in Beaverton. It’s only a short drive from downtown and traffic is light this time of day.

“Well, this is a sweet surprise,” Mom says when she opens the door and sees us standing there. Her dark hair is graying, and she stopped going to have it colored and cut a few years ago. Because Dad found her “Just for Me” fund and stole it.

My dad has turned into a class-A dick.

She’s dressed in a pretty dress with small white flowers on it. Her makeup is done, as if she’s about to go out for lunch with her friends.

But she’s not.

“Can we come in, Mom?” I ask.

“Of course, this is your house too,” she replies, and steps back for us to enter. We didn’t grow up in this house. Because of Dad, they lost our childhood home years ago. This house is rented in my name, because the alternative was my parents being homeless, and Chase and I aren’t willing to let that happen.

The house smells like cleaner. Since Dad got sucked into the gambling hole, Mom has become obsessive about keeping the house clean. I’m no Ph.D., but even I know that it’s because keeping the house clean is the only thing she has control over.

“We wanted to talk,” Chase says as we all sit in the living room. “We’re worried about you, Mama.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” She waves him off and stands. “Are you hungry? I can make some tuna fish sandwiches for lunch.”

“No, Mom. We’re not hungry. We’d like to talk about your phone call to Chase earlier.”

“You told him?” she asks Chase, clearly pissed off.

“He was sitting next to me,” Chase replies. “He heard the call.”

“Well, that was private,” she says, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “You should have left the room.”

“Because you don’t want me to know that you’re hitting Chase up for money just two weeks after I paid all of your bills?” I ask, not bothering to gentle my tone. “That’s bullshit, Mom.”

“I will not tolerate that language in my house,” she says, speaking to me like I’m nine. “You may speak like a hoodlum when you’re not here, but you won’t do it around me.”

“Why do you need another five thousand dollars?” Chase asks.

“Because I do.” She clasps her hands in her lap and clamps her mouth shut.

“Mom, we just want you to talk to us about this.”

“I don’t know why,” she replies. “I just want the money. You can afford it.”

“That’s not the point,” I reply as Chase stands and paces the living room. “You can’t have another five grand in bills to pay already.”

“Dad’s in trouble,” Chase says, and Mom looks to the ground, flushed. “That’s it, isn’t it? He’s in the hole.”

“He didn’t mean it,” she begins, but Chase paces away, cursing a blue streak. “Don’t you speak about your father like that!”

“Mom, this is insane. He’s ruined both of your credit. He drains your accounts as soon as any money hits, and you have to hide what little money you have from him just so you can go to the grocery store. When is enough enough?”

“He’s my husband.”

“He’s killing you.”

“Stop it.” She shoves up to her feet. “He’s a good man who has been going through a bad spell.”