Friedman is on the lam. He’s skipped out on a rap in Vegas. He goes from restaurant to restaurant, pursued by the FBI.
My father stole a car. He’s driving an old 1940s Ford. We’re driving along the edge of an embankment trying to jump the car over to a bridge on the other side. We almost miss but pull up just in time.
Alex if you really love me then turn your head to the side you’re getting away.
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