ask, “Ready now?” I’m itching to go and rip this Band-Aid. “Yeah,” Lo says, digging out his car keys. “I’m driving you.” “You can’t drive him.” Connor rests his electronic tablet on the desk. “We’ve been over this, Lo.” They have? “Great, so you heard me last time when I said, I don’t care if I’m spotted. He’s my son’s bodyguard. It’s not that weird for me to drive him to South Philly.” “Lo—” “For Christ’s sake, Connor, he’s going in my car. I’m dropping him off. I’m picking him up. If you have a problem with that, take it to your god, whoever that may be. And if it’s yourself, there’s ten
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