“You think I got in the car because I was afraid of you?” “He won’t tell me his name.” “Why should I?” “Claims he has no I.D. cards.” “Why the hell do I need any?” “Listen, I can’t sit here all night while you two have it out with each other,” Dobzyn said. “My wife is sick, and I was supposed to be home to cook dinner for the kids at five. I’m late already. Thirty days in jail or two hundred dollars fine. What’ll it be, son?” “Two hundred? Christ, I just told you I don’t have more than ten.” “Then it’s thirty-five days in jail,” Dobzyn said and rose out of his chair, unbuttoning his sweater.
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