Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Mark (Three of Five)

Me and Mark, I met him at the academy, we got our PI licenses and rented out this hole in the wall. Something blue dripping from the corner, weird hump in the middle of the floor, rats everywhere. But it was cheap, it was in the middle of the city, and it was safe. Weird, cause it was in the worst part of the city, but it was like being in the eye of a tornado. Stuff happened all around us, there was always a lot of potential business, but nothing happened to us, at least not in the building.

The hardest part, that first year, getting people in the door. Had to figure, every time a scream woke me up in the middle of the night, that coulda been a job next morning. But we couldn't find enough clients. We also learned when you gotta choose between getting dinner, keeping the lights on, or getting a drink, you don't get picky about what you do. After a while, things got better, but I'da done anything for a buck those days.

That's the thing about being a PI, you do things you thought you'd never do for money. I never thought as a kid, when I was getting my guts tenderized by someone's fists, I'd end up taking pictures of fat guys and pretty women for a living. They can't keep it in their pants, and I keep a roof over my head another week. Another thing, sneaking up on slackers and handing them a court order, telling them they've been served. I even been a bodyguard every once and a while.

When I talk to strangers and they're trying to be friendly, they ask me for good stories, I know they're thinking of the murders and thefts and rapes. It's human nature, you wanna hear the worst of everything, because it makes you feel better about yourself, you're above that, you weren't the slob on the other side. When I start describing process service in the middle of a lake, eyes start rolling. They don't get it. Things you don't expect make the best stories.

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