“Now,” I said, lighting a cigarette, “you decide whether this is the bottom or just another floor on the way down. I can give you numbers. Rehab, gamblers’ anonymous, a shrink who won’t judge. But I can’t make you call them.”
That’s the truth about vice stories. They never really end. They just change addresses. vice stories
“Evening,” I said quietly. “Time to go home.” “Now,” I said, lighting a cigarette, “you decide