It seems like everybody wants a piece of Mike Conlan... from legbreakers and loansharks, to mob enforcers and the local cops, even the FBI. Sure he's been in over his head before, what degenerate gambler hasn't, but the water is getting deeper by the day and it's getting harder and harder to know who to trust. None of this should really come as any big surprise. The nuns at St. Joe's in Hoboken, New Jersey seemed to have him pegged as a loser from the very first day of Kindergarten, and he's done nothing since to prove them wrong. After all, that was more than thirty years ago, and to this point, his life never really has amounted to anything. But as every gambler will tell you, that one big score, the one that's going to get you well, is just around the next bend. It's a one-way ticket to paradise, a gamblers nirvana, where the whiskey is plentiful and the women are sure things. Legend has it, it's in Florida, just off of I-95 and south of Boca. Yep, the big score, it's every gambler's 401k...the ultimate retirement plan. But for now, Mike Conlan's dream of a fresh start in the Sunshine State will just have to wait. It's all he can do to keep his head above water, and there's a lot more than money at stake this time around. He's painfully aware that he may have finally pushed his luck too far, and can't help but wonder if the remains of his squandered life just might be circling the bowl for the last time...