A middle-aged occupant, a petite blonde, and a greasy criminal stood in a living room after midnight. It could have been mistaken as the set-up for a bad joke, but the unfamiliar territory did not amuse Bill in the slightest. "Dante, why are you here?" Frankie asked. "I heard you the first time, sweetheart." Dante advanced to her. "You got my fucking money?" "Hey." Bill clapped and
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