Musings

I started this story awhile ago, but haven’t continued it because of the novel I’m writing. If I get some likes, I may continue. The fate of Frank Massey rests in your hands world. Do as you want.

The night was cold, misty, and he hunkered down in his car. It was an old clunker, all he could afford thanks to child support, which he paid willing, and alimony, which he also paid willingly. He’d messed up, he’d admitted that to himself a long time ago. Promiscuity, and alcoholism, had made a shoddy father, and poor husband, out of him, and the latter had gotten him thrown off the force. He went to meetings regularly now, if to do nothing more than make it up to his wife and kid.

He was a P.I. now, working mostly cases of cheating spouses; he almost choked on the irony, and the occasional pity bunco case thrown his way by members of the force he hadn’t managed to piss off, or shame.

That’s when, and why, he saw the kid, a tall, lanky blond who looked all of about fifteen in beat up canvas sneakers, old jeans, and a threadbare tee shirt, that looked like it been handed down to him by an older brother twice his size. He was working the late night crowd for a couple of bucks, and maybe some cigarettes. Frank knew few and far between prostitutes, male or female, that didn’t smoke.