... his girlfriend threw a pizza at his head and told him it was over. Not exactly the most subtle of encounters, but it had gotten the point across, well enough that he hadn't been able to think for days. In fact, it felt like the last week had encompassed half his life, the other 50% before it being overinflated with filler episodes that went nowhere and meant nothing.
Shit, he needed a drink, and he needed one now.
"4th and 15th," the driver said
Scotty threw him a ten spot. "Thanks."
4th and 15th wasn't exactly a valid address, and even if it had been, most people wouldn't have known what it was. It was the fourth building on 15th Street, a seedy bar just north of the river. Just north of Vanessa's neighborhood.
Vanessa. Why'd she have to be so unreasonable about the mistake? It wasn't his fault that everything had gone to hell. If Jason hadn't been such a fucking idiot, Scotty thought as he pushed open the door to the bar, they could have paid Mr. Allen back easily. They could have just given him the money, gotten out of town before he realized what was really happening, and Scotty could have been doing double time on top of Vanessa in a room at the Belagio. It had been such an easy plan. If only Jason had done what they told him to...