hard-boiled friendster fiction

I still haven't thanked Siege enough for that hard-boiled fiction style Friendster testimonial that he wrote me:

"I need you," the blonde stranger said, casually cascading herself over the mahogany chair in front of Ayen Rivera, P.I.,'s oakwood desk. "To find my husband."

Detective Rivera traced the stranger's length, from the toes of her red stilettos, up her alabaster pair of legs (of the long variety), across her generous bosom, finally settling on her sharp, heavily made-up face. If not for his parole conditions, he would have humped her right there.

"Husbands," Ayen said. Coolly, like he didn't need the business. "Are hard to find when they don't wanna get found."

The blonde stood up to her full height, her wavy tresses rippling around her head in elegant bounce. It reminded Ayen of someone's head, one he held underwater for a couple of seconds longer than normally considered safe.

"Well, then, Mr. Rivera, I suppose this would make it easier," she said, tossing over a bundle wrapped in a paper bag held together by a couple of rubber bands.

Detective Rivera considered the bundle sitting on top of his desk. He leaned back farther, weighing the object, weighing the woman, weighing the job. A hundred grand, easy, he thought.

"I want you to find him alive," the woman said. Her voice was steady, but the trembling of her blonde tresses betrayed her. "But I want to find him dead."

Detective Rivera sighed. All in a day's work, he thought, reaching for the bundle. Some days, he wished he was a writer in some alternative world. He read of quantum theory once, as a child, and had heard of the possibility of alternate realities existing side by side the one that he knew. There are stories, Detective Rivera thought, that needs telling. He watched the woman light a fag.

I had "testified" earlier for Siege. Read it here.

Siege, thanks for this. :D