Happy Trails (Short Story)
A part of me despises anyone who’d walk through the door with another dirty deed for me to put on my conscious. Clients show up thinking they’re in a movie: men wanna be wiseguys, women wanna be femme fatales—they want me to be a hardboiled detective who cracks cases in 24 hours all while maintaining movie star good looks and delivering a slick one-liner or two. Walk-ins are a particular pain. They combined these delusions with a sense of entitlement you could only find in somebody who’d show up unannounced on a Monday morning.