I had not come up with a plan but I had come up with my next step and that started with a call to Raul Levin. The phone buzzed in my hand, which meant I had messages. I decided I would get them after I set Levin in motion. He answered my call and the first thing he asked was whether I had gotten his message. “I just got off a plane,” I said. “I missed it.” “A plane? Where were you?” “Up north. What was the message?” “Just an update on Corliss. If you weren’t calling about that, what were you calling about?” “What are you doing tonight?” “Just hanging out. I don’t like going out on Fridays and Saturdays. It’s amateur hour. Too many drunks on the road.” “Well, I want to meet. I’ve got to talk to somebody. Bad things are happening.” Levin apparently sensed something in my voice because he immediately changed his stay-at-home-on-Friday-night policy and we agreed to meet at the Smoke House over by the Warner Studios.
What do You think about The Lincoln Lawyer: A Novel?
