LJ Idol Week 0: Introduction
It was a dreary afternoon that came at the end of a dreary day. The rain outside stopped just long enough for me to go inside and dry off. As I stood at the window, my hat limp as a dishrag in my hands, I contemplated the usefulness of going back out today.
I didn't hear her enter, but my nostrils flared at the smell of her perfume. I detect plums, roses, lemons and sandalwood. Acqua Fiorentina. I look over my shoulder and ask, "May I help you?"
"I sincerely hope so," she says. Her long dark hair flows over her shoulders. She shakes it behind her as she takes a seat. I turn my back to the rain splattered window and place my own hands on the back of my chair. She introduces herself as Andrea.
"I'm worried about my friend," she tells me as she opens her purse. She pulls a small photograph and hands it over with trembling fingers. She is nervous. She isn't sure if she is doing the right thing. I look at the photo while she tells me about her friend. Carol, it seems, is in an Internet relationship.
Carol believes that she has found her soulmate in Omaha. He is supposedly a man in his early twenties who makes his living doing flash animation. Carol left last Friday to finally meet him in person. She was supposed to call when she arrived, but Andrea hasn't heard from her.
She asks me if I can help her.
The thing is, I'm mostly small time. I get a call from the Chief of Police once, maybe twice a month. That pays the bills on this drafty office and the one room apartment that keeps my head dry after hours. Beyond that, I have to keep my rates low just to get the clients in the office. I make $20 a day, plus expenses when I can get them. Just enough to put food in my stomach and gas in my car.
I'm a street detective. I'm not one of these guys you see on TV who solves murders and recovers stolen jewelry. I take pictures of cheating husbands and track down old girlfriends for poor saps who need closure.
My contacts are the local drug dealers, bar tenders, and flesh peddlers. I don't know Jack about the Internet, if you pardon the expression. And, the last time I went out of town it was because the wrong guy said my name at the wrong time and I ended up face first in the trunk of a '94 Cadillac STS. Nice car. Smooth ride. There is a pull lever in the trunk so that kids who close themselves up inside can still get out. A lot of people forget that.
On the one hand, this is right up my alley. A woman is worried about her friend, but there is no evidence of foul play to go to the police with. On the other, it might require me to go to Omaha. And, from there I can't work on my other cases.
When you only charge $20 a day from a client, they really can't expect you not to have other clients as well.
I tell Andrea that I'll accept her case at my regular fee. I lie and claim that I have contacts in Council Bluffs, Iowa who owe me a favor. But, I warn her that if I have to go to Nebraska personally, it will cost her extra.
Andrea accepts my terms and I accept her case. It is a simple case, shouldn't take more than a couple of phone calls. So, why do I feel like I've just bitten off more than I can chew?
This is my entry for Week 0 of LiveJournal Idol, Season 6. To read the other entries in the contest, click here.
I didn't hear her enter, but my nostrils flared at the smell of her perfume. I detect plums, roses, lemons and sandalwood. Acqua Fiorentina. I look over my shoulder and ask, "May I help you?"
"I sincerely hope so," she says. Her long dark hair flows over her shoulders. She shakes it behind her as she takes a seat. I turn my back to the rain splattered window and place my own hands on the back of my chair. She introduces herself as Andrea.
"I'm worried about my friend," she tells me as she opens her purse. She pulls a small photograph and hands it over with trembling fingers. She is nervous. She isn't sure if she is doing the right thing. I look at the photo while she tells me about her friend. Carol, it seems, is in an Internet relationship.
Carol believes that she has found her soulmate in Omaha. He is supposedly a man in his early twenties who makes his living doing flash animation. Carol left last Friday to finally meet him in person. She was supposed to call when she arrived, but Andrea hasn't heard from her.
She asks me if I can help her.
The thing is, I'm mostly small time. I get a call from the Chief of Police once, maybe twice a month. That pays the bills on this drafty office and the one room apartment that keeps my head dry after hours. Beyond that, I have to keep my rates low just to get the clients in the office. I make $20 a day, plus expenses when I can get them. Just enough to put food in my stomach and gas in my car.
I'm a street detective. I'm not one of these guys you see on TV who solves murders and recovers stolen jewelry. I take pictures of cheating husbands and track down old girlfriends for poor saps who need closure.
My contacts are the local drug dealers, bar tenders, and flesh peddlers. I don't know Jack about the Internet, if you pardon the expression. And, the last time I went out of town it was because the wrong guy said my name at the wrong time and I ended up face first in the trunk of a '94 Cadillac STS. Nice car. Smooth ride. There is a pull lever in the trunk so that kids who close themselves up inside can still get out. A lot of people forget that.
On the one hand, this is right up my alley. A woman is worried about her friend, but there is no evidence of foul play to go to the police with. On the other, it might require me to go to Omaha. And, from there I can't work on my other cases.
When you only charge $20 a day from a client, they really can't expect you not to have other clients as well.
I tell Andrea that I'll accept her case at my regular fee. I lie and claim that I have contacts in Council Bluffs, Iowa who owe me a favor. But, I warn her that if I have to go to Nebraska personally, it will cost her extra.
Andrea accepts my terms and I accept her case. It is a simple case, shouldn't take more than a couple of phone calls. So, why do I feel like I've just bitten off more than I can chew?
This is my entry for Week 0 of LiveJournal Idol, Season 6. To read the other entries in the contest, click here.