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Game On

Leroy Gamble sat in his Camaro, wondering how it all went wrong. Luke's cell wasn't going through anymore and the signal was still shitty.

"I had him, by God, I had him, exactly where I wanted him! Only for the flight to take off without me. Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" He banged his fist repeatedly against his steering wheel angrily.

There was nothing for him to do now except to go home and raid his beer cellar. Maybe he would finally smoke that joint he had saving for rainy days. Even lawyers needed a good high once in a while.

His car felt stuffy and he felt like taking his frustration out on something or someone. He pushed open his car door and stumbled outside. His reckless movement sent pangs of pain to his knees, reminding him of his age.

Once in a while, his 48 years of age popped out of its hiding place, punishing him for overexerting his body. Evie would have to put up with his cramps all night long.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He was reluctant to pick up, assuming it to be F
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