"I am a liar," thought Max dreamily forking the antipasto which had arrived brought by a waiter with an apologetic and furtive air. "I knew liws before I knew sex, before I knew money. I am married to lies. And I shall stay married. I have made too many promises to do anything else. "But Max has told too many lies, and he is beginning to lose his nerve. He thinks he has lost control but where? Has it happened in New York, Saint Petersburgh, London, Buenos Aires, or here in Rome? Who wants to betray this charismatic gargoyle of a man with his alluring chatter and solid presence which make up for his size? Max knows the answer: too many.
