It's a dark and rainy night. I'm sitting in my office smoking a cigar, sipping on some scotch. Business has been slow lately... real slow. I haven't had a case since Mr. Rose hired me to find out who was stalking his wife, and that must have been a month ago... or was it yesterday? I can barely keep track anymore. P.I.s just don't get the work these days like they used to. I've considered closing up shop, joining up with the force again, but knowing me I'll just find a way to get kicked out again. It's that goddamn attitude cops have. They think just because they carry around a badge and a nightstick they command respect, well let me tell you something boys, respect is earned, it comes from fighting battles and coming out a better man, not from graduating from the police academy and growing a mustache.
And then there's a knock on my door.
"It's open," I say, not knowing whose on the other side.
She comes in, soaking wet from the rain, but her make up is perfect. She's a beaut, big, bright eyes, full lips, and curly blond hair that cuts off at her shoulders. She's the kind of broad that you take out for a nightcap, make love to, and then cook breakfast for the next morning. I've never seen her before in my life, but after looking into her eyes for a second I feel as if I know her whole story. Raised back East, good parents, dad worked in a factory, mom was a school teacher, she had the chance to go to college and make something of herself, but this kid's a dreamer. She threw all that away and headed for the coast to become an actress. "I'm beautiful," she thought to herself, "how hard can it be?" 3 years later and she's got nothing to show for it except a few crappy commercials, some failed auditions, and working one too many nights singing in a some dive bar in West Hollywood.
That's all I feel like writing for now. That's what popped into my head when I heard all these things in conjunction though. Thanks for that, LWO.
