I’m sitting across from him, a pitcher of mimosas between us. I keep drinking them. One after the other, avoiding conversation, I’m good at this, I fucking love champagne. “Marlowe, will you just talk to me, please?” he says, his wannabe Kennedy good looks grimacing. “Sure, Skip why did you sleep with your secretary? You’re […]
He looks at me.
“I forgot you were a private investigator, Marlowe.”
“I forgot you were a trust fund asshole, Skip.”
“Hi, what would you like?” the waitress, blue haired but preppy, interrupts.
MK edits financial investment prospectuses which is quite a disappointment to her eight year old self who thought she would've at least solved a mystery by now.
Find her @lets_baehl & @vsbrmkb - which is her secret twitter for book reviews
I was seven the first time I learned about death. The cold finality of it all surrounded me like a blanket, keeping me company the remaining days of my life. I remember the coffin, light blue with brass handles. The flowers—lilies, evocative of death—covered every possible surface filling the church with their strong, honey-laced aroma. […]
It was in a previously unexplored region of the Levant, between several other spots of little obvious interest, that the specimen was found. It generated some buzz, though the team doing the recovery requested as little coverage as possible in order to make their job easier. In the end it was mostly speculation from the […]