“Do you want to test-drive it?” I asked. “I want you not to get fucked over buying it,” he answered. “Mickey, car salesmen hardly screw over women anymore,” I scoffed. “They freely screw over everybody.” “You’re wrong, Amy.” “It’s not 1968, Mickey.” “Right, you go in, get the best deal you think you can get, then walk away. I’ll go in after and get the best deal I can get, text you, you come in and we’ll see about that shit.” “You’re on,” I snapped. “Tomorrow?” “Perfect.” “You pissed?” he asked. “Yes,” I answered. “Because you know you’re goin’ down,” he declared. “Whatever,” I mumbled. He
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