I move along to the back booth. Fat Tony, as usual. He's slouched back, eyes squeezed shut, mind in a place I never want to visit. "Another round?" A hand pokes up from under the table, two fingers raised. "Whiskey sour, double, his tab?" I get a thumbs up and move along to the bathrooms. Miss Kelly comes out, leading a bug-eyed housewife, hair scrambled and blouse mis-buttoned. "Big
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