While I share the elevator with Miller, I listen to my mother’s message.
“Stevie,” she says, her voice painfully sad and scratchy old. “They took my cigarettes again. They took my cigarettes, and they won’t give me the keys to the car. Can you come pick me up now? I’ve had enough. I need to make dinner for Daddy. He’ll be home soon.” The phone hangs up, and my heart breaks.
Good Steve: Go see her tonight, you d**k.
Bad Steve: I will. I promise.
Good Steve: Yeah, I’m holding my freakin’ breath.
The elevator doors slide open. Miller and I get out. He tells me that, for now, we’ll take his cruiser and later on he can drive me back to retrieve my Mustang. I guess I don’t really have much choice in the matter, being that he’s a city cop and an important cop at that. We exit the building
