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... a moment as he handled his phone and nodded, "Yes, to have some drinks."
"Feeling down?"
"It’s nothing, just bored at home alone."
Sylvan Cheney didn’t ask further; he roughly knew why Charles Mcintosh would hit the bars.
The Rolls-Royce weaved through the night, speeding along the roads.
The VISTA bar, private room 8888.
Jesse Rowan had already arrived.
He was flirting and laughing with a hostess who was keeping him company.
"Mr. ...
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