When I left my corporate law firm in order to become the personal attorney to a chief mafioso, I envisioned glamorous business trips to the Sicilian or Tuscan countryside.
Instead, I get sent Nowheresville, West Virginia in order to close a boring deal, and rather than negotiating with high powered New York businessmen, I’m stuck schmoozing with sleepy local politicians.
But just because a town is small doesn’t make the local good old boys any less corrupt than the mobsters in New York.
Or any less deadly.