George Hardwick III Posted December 8, 2015 Share Posted December 8, 2015 Manhattan 1940 ~ G Hardwick, private dick Here I was laid out on the rooftop, chill raising up into my bones and starring down the gunsights at my enemy; Bic C's operation was like cheap wine, and I was going to pop the cork... How had it come to this? 2 weeks previous The night she walked into my office was like any other night. Unpaid rent, phones on the fritz, and the bottle of whisky in the file cabinet was empty; to name a few of the problems that rattled around in my head like a dice in a tin cup. And then there she was, dressed to kill, and taking no prisoners. I could tell she'd been crying, as she put a wad of cash on my desk, and fixed me with those peepers. I was like a deer caught in her headlights, all I could do was stare as she bowled me over. What a broad. But how did a classy dame like this make it though the grimy alleys, past greasy diners and tough guys to my neck of the woods with all that cash? She'd made a wrong turn somewhere, and I'd be the one to pay the ferryman. "This aint the neighbourhood for a gal like you." but she just looked at me all icy like, and told me she needed me to take care of a little problem for her. Little, I thought, yeah just as little as those double d's. She was my kinda gal. Trouble with a capital T. "Listen lady, if you think I'm going to off someone for you, you are staring at the wrong guy." My hand reached under the desk, my instincts told me there was something all off about this. OOC: Welcome to join me, or I might simply carry on my little story tomorrow Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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