He wrote just one word: "Imperfect."

Police, fire and SWAT vans were careening into the parking lot as the young man left. A TV news truck was close behind. The young man had to smile when he saw that. Well, at the very least, he thought, this place was going to get some mighty bad publicity and folks would be staying away in droves. And everyone knew what that meant.

Less competition.

Chapter 2

His name was Remo and he was ordering off the dinner menu, a la carte.

"Meatballs."

"A man like you needs more than meatballs." The waitress chomped her gum provocatively.

"Meatballs," Remo insisted.

"The customer is always right. But why not get the dinner? It comes with pasta and garlic bread and a salad."

Remo considered that, then nodded. "You talked me into it. I'll have the full dinner. In fact, make it four meatball dinners."

Her jaw froze midchomp.

"There will be others in my party," he explained.

"Hope your friends like meatballs," the waitress said, trying to sound witty. She cocked a hip at him, just to be sure he was getting the message.

But the customer in the circular booth looked right past her. "Is that a pie case? I haven't seen one of those in ages."

"We have apple and coconut cream, but I recommend the cherry pie." She leaned at him, thrusting out her impressive bosom.

"I'll take it," her customer said.

"Four slices? Or how about a piece of cherry pie for just you?"