“Nope, I couldn’t think of anything better than racking up charges and pissing you the fuck off you common, murdering, dog mother-fucker … ” Dickie punched the wall beside my head before I could finish. It sounded pretty bad—bones breaking and all. Those commercial, metal elevator walls are damned sturdy.
Dickie’s hand swelled up fast. “Looks like you fought the wall and the wall won,” I jeered.
Dickie narrowed his eyes and restarted the elevator, “You know princess, everyone likes a little ass, but nobody likes a smart ass.”
“Don’t call me ‘princess.’”
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