In the mist of trying to convince my neighbor, Leon, how hard it is to come up with a good title for a romantic legal thriller, he wrote one down on the back of a Burger King napkin and passed it across the table to me.
Leon didn’t finish school, because he had to stay home to take care of his ailing mother. Whatever they taught him in prison, apparently, had nothing to do with learning how to spell the word mayhem. I couldn’t hurt the man’s feelings so I said, “Leon, that’s a great title.”
Outside the restaurant, Jack and Lisa are waiting for a limo when two men place knives to their throats and force them into a yellow and brown Dodge Minivan which smells like an Italian kitchen with a motor oil leak in the oven.