It was harder seeing her than I’d thought it would be.

For one, she was hot. God damn she was hot. Maybe it was because I hadn’t busted a nut in two weeks, but I don’t think it was just that. Her eyes… her hair in a ponytail… her tits pressing tight against her t-shirt, with that fucking incredible cleavage peeking out from the V-neck…

And the whole back room smelled like her. Not just her perfume, but the scent of her body. I remembered it well from every morning I woke up next to her, and it was driving me crazy.

In fact, I started to get hard.

Then I got angry. All the things she’d done… all the ways she’d backstabbed me… and yet all I could think about was slamming her down on that sofa and fucking her again. Anything to be inside her one more time.

It took a massive effort, but I steered my mind away from that and back to the original plan: hiring her as a PI.

Of course, she’d made a good point about not being able to do any sort of work out in the open in Richards. So I improvised and asked about her boss.

Which brought me face to face with one of the most bizarre fucking people I’d met in a while. And as the former leader of a motorcycle club, that’s saying something.

He looked like a fuckin’ cue ball. Short, completely bald, with black-rimmed lenses that were thick as shot glasses. He was old, but it was hard to tell exactly how old. Maybe 55, maybe closer to 70 – though he seemed pretty spry. He wore a short-sleeve polo shirt with a pair of khakis and tennis shoes, like his mom had just dressed him for third grade. That was a strange contrast with the gravelly voice and the SEMPER FI tattoo on his right forearm.

Just a completely bizarre motherfucker.

First thing he said when we walked back in the room was, “Didja bone on my mini fridge?”

“You would’ve heard us,” Fiona assured him, amused.

“Yeah, you two don’t exactly seem like the quiet types.”

“Jesus, Sid – ”

“Hey, I’m like Sherlock Holmes. I notice shit and make deductions.”

“Speaking of which, Jack here wants to hire us.”

“For money? Or for free cuz he figures you owe him?”

“You, for money,” Fiona said. “Me, I’ll work for free.”

“That’s not necessary,” I told her.

“It is necessary – ”

“You two can argue about it later in bed,” the old guy said. “As long as I’m gettin’ paid, siddown.”

Fiona and I sat down on the other side of his desk.

“First off, I’m normally one fifty an hour. For an out-of-town gig like this, it’s a thousand a day, plus expenses,” the old guy said.

“Jesus Christ,” I said, taken aback. I hadn’t expected it to be that much.

“Sid… come on,” Fiona pleaded. “Friend Prices.”

“You tryin’ to bankrupt me, kid?”

“I told you, I’ll work for free.”

“No,” I said to her. “I told you this was purely professional.”

“Look, I owe you – ”

“Shut up, the both of you,” the old guy barked. “FINE, 500 a day plus expenses. If I was you, Easy Rider, I’d take her up on the offer. Otherwise it’s an extra 250 a day, even at Friend Prices. So take yer pick.”

I did some quick calculations in my head. The body shop was going to close a lot sooner if I hired this guy, but it was going to close no matter what if I sat back and did nothing. With Sid’s help, I might have a chance at taking down Lou and getting my old life back. And having to pay an extra 250 a day would eat up my money that much faster. It might make the difference between an extra week of his time, or him going home early.

“…fine,” I agreed grudgingly. “You can help for free.”

Fiona smiled.

“Alright,” the old guy said. “I know about you already, so tell me what I don’t know and don’t bore the fuck outta me.”

“How do you know about me?” I asked, but realized it was a stupid question as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

Sid looked at Fiona and shook his head. “I hope for your sake he has a ten-inch personality.”

She blushed. “SID – ”

“I’m just sayin’.”

I squinted at him in disbelief, then looked at Fiona. “Is he like this with all his clients?”

“He tends to be nicer to women,” she said. “He flirts with them.”

“Quit yer yappin’, I’m workin’ on Friend Prices here, not by the hour. What’s the story, Easy Rider?”

I started telling him about the club and Lou –

“You’re borin’ the fuck outta me. Next.”

I told him about how Lou had outed Fiona and used that as a pretext for a coup.

As I talked, Fiona couldn’t look at me.

Sid, of course, was sensitive as ever. “You’re borin’ the fuck outta me again. Next.”

So I told him the only thing I was sure he hadn’t heard: about the two robbers not being Santa Muertes, and how I’d heard it straight from Hector and Rodrigo.

“Okay, that’s officially interesting,” Sid conceded.

Fiona stared at me. “You’re sure?”

“Did you even listen to the story?” Sid chastised her. “‘Three scumbags walk into a bar’? Of course he’s sure.”

Three scumbags walk into a bar. I wanted to be pissed, but that was kind of funny.

“You believe them?” Fiona asked.

“Hector has no reason to lie.”

“Okay,” said the cue ball, “first off, he’s a scumbag, so that’s plenty of reason to lie. But it don’t matter, ‘cause whatever the simplest explanation is for somethin’, that’s the simplest explanation.”

“I think you mean ‘best explanation,’” I said.

Fiona closed her eyes and shook her head, like she’d been through this a thousand times already. “Don’t.”

“Simplest ain’t always best, but it’s always the simplest. Best ain’t always simplest, and it ain’t always the truth. So until you got the truth, you go with the simplest. Capiche?” Sid barked.

“So what’s the simplest explanation?” I snapped back at him. “That they’re lying?”

“No. That your old buddy Lou’s behind it.”