“At Attica, fuck, he must’ve read the stories about his arrest and trial thousands of times and it always brought him such a rush. The only thing more addicting than PIMP was fame. Max couldn’t get enough of himself; he felt the way movie stars feel when they read gossip. Whining about the paparazzi, yeah, right, they ate that shit up—Alec Baldwin probably had TMZ pics of himself hanging over his bed, staring at his own manic face every time he came. Lately Max had been reading the articles abou...t the search for the mystery man, the Philip Seymour Hoffman-on-a-bad-day figure with an Irish accent, who was responsible for the shootings in Brooklyn and Harlem. It wasn’t as satisfying as seeing the Fisher name in the papers, but it was damn close. He read an article in the Post that rehashed what had been in the papers about him lately, how they were describing the wanted killer as “twisted,” “heartless,” and “cold blooded.” He remembered his mother once shouting at him, “You’ll never be anybody!”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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