OCTOBER 1994 —  PROLOGUE:  YOU  BET  YOUR  LIFE

         " Jimmy subconsciously walked in half-time to the thunderous beat of  repetitive, nonchalant, urgent, soul-saving thud of gospel house music that reverberated from the overcrowded, sweaty interior of Paradise.

     He had hurried from the club without his jacket, still holding the small scrap of paper pressed into his palm by a hand that had vanished fast into the seething crowd of multi-hued chocolate jostling around the downstairs bar.

     The early morning’s cool air sent a chill through his slim frame and Jimmy hugged himself against a stiff, gathering breeze.

     He stopped where the note indicated, near the bright green yet rusting dumpsters under the small parking lot’s sole light. His dark brown eyes searched first the cars, then the shadows of the lot’s edges before he returned his attention to the now badly crumpled piece of paper. He held it up toward the light and moved his lips as he read its  three words for the second time.
     The wind picked up suddenly, snatching the note out of Jimmy’s cooling hands into the air. Pissed, he hugged himself again.

     “Fuck.”

     The note vanished, swallowed by the lamp’s aquamarine glare. Again, Jimmy looked around the crowded, tightly packed lot. The music of Paradise pumped hot. His blood ran cold. Jimmy turned on his heels and headed back toward Paradise.

          He did not see the note finally tumble to the ground or the hand that picked it up..."

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