M el moved the shotgun so he could reach down and turn up the radio. “ I love this song.” “ What’s this?” Dom asked. “ Don’t change it.” “ It’s crap,” Dom said. “ It’s the Guess Who.” “ What’s the Guess who?” “ The name of the band. The Guess Who, that’s who.” “ It’s terrible.” Dom replied. “The guy’s singing about no sugar in his coffee.” Mel reached into his denim jacket, removed a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. He exhaled all over the front of the dashboard and put the shotgun across his lap. “ You know this song has to do with losing a piece of ass, right?” Mel said. Dom hit the Tobin Bridge, reached into the ashtray, and grabbed fifty cents for the toll. “ How you figure? Sounds like he’s out of sugar for his coffee and real pissed off about it.” “ You’ve been heart broken, right? That Tina chick? The cokehead you met at Smugs’ Cove?” Mel Asked. “ Yeah, b...
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