Good Morning, I’m Blake Miller

“So what’s your name again?”

“What the fuck, that’s mean, even as a joke. You shouldn’t be forgetting a cute girl’s name immediately after she’s told you.”

“Look at this bitch, calling herself cute like it’s a proven fact. You skipped school the day they gave out all the self-awareness?”

“Well, out of all the girls at the bar yesterday I was the only one you came asking for her phone number. So I’m confident in my assessment of your assessment of me.”

“You’re just the only one who looked gullible enough to actually fall for it, honestly.”

“Now that’s just a barely disguised self-burn. At least you’re aware of where you stand in this relationship.”

“I’m standing between you and your ham and cheese sandwich so you better apologize to me RIGHT NOW.”

“I knew I should’ve just given you my mother’s number instead.”

“Is she single?”

“It wouldn’t be funny if she was, so no, she isn’t.”

“I was gonna say that’s messed up but honestly it may have been a better outcome than this.”

“On that we agree. Now can you get out of my way and let me eat my sandwich?”

“… Perhaps.”

“Appreciate it.”

I might have neglected to mention this small detail, but this absolute lab specimen of a man was currently invading my living room. Some might say this is my fault for giving a random man from the local bar my address before he even knew my name, but to all of them I respond that cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never tastes of death but once.

“But he might try something sketchy while you’re not paying attention!”

I’m always paying attention. Next question.

“Isn’t it kind of disgusting you’re willing to hook up with a creepy guy that, by his own admission, nobody else likes? Are you a masochist?”

Well, for one, fuck you I’m not disgusting. For two, I was never planning on hooking up with him. I’m not even into men. And I don’t think he’d ever be into me either; these types of attention-starved dudes don’t like it when they know they have no chance no matter how hard they may try.

“Hey, Blake.”

“That’s Miss Miller to you.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve been silently berated for most of the time I’ve spent here?”

“What a vivid imagination.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, blatant disrespect aside, did you forget the whole reason you even let me in?”

“That I thought I’d get a good laugh at your expense?”

“Jesus Christ, what a bitch. No, I mean that job thing I told you about.”

“Oh riiight. It’s all a bit foggy, but I guess it makes sense I’d give you my address then. I love money. What was I supposed to do again?”

“Be a nosy bitch and extract as much private and compromising information from my target as you can possibly manage without being arrested by the police.”

“Weird way to spell detective work, that.”

“I thought it would fit you. So what, you down?”

Well, yeah, that’s all I do for work in this town nowadays, or at least all that someone like this guy would know me for. I do find myself in need of a decent chunk of savings, all that stuff I need won’t suddenly start buying itself. Especially that Toyota Aqua. That thing’s really cute, I don’t even care that it went up in price, I still need one in my life.

… Though I still don’t think I trust any job this guy’s so thrilled about getting done.

“Probably, but it’s gonna depend on whose life it is we want to be gossiping about.”

“It’s not really a person, per se—it’s just that a little bird told me about this research campus in the border of town… I’m not really sure of what it is they do, and I’m kind of a science buff, you see.”

“You underestimate just how girthy my myopia really is.”

“Well, as long as you can find out some stuff about what they’re doing up there, you’ll probably be able to afford better glasses when you’re done.”

“Sure, whatever you say then. So is that all or do you plan on staying at my home for much longer?”

“You invited me here. Only rude asshats kick their guests out like they’re wild pests.”

“For one, I treat pests with an AR-15 not sarcasm. For two, you’re no longer a guest, you’re a paying customer, and my hospitality is subject to supply and demand. The former of which I’ve run out of.”

Doesn’t take much more back and forth until he decides he’s had enough of my bullshit and goes away. He does still have my number though, so I guess I’m not completely off the hook yet. Oh well.

The new research center though, hey? It’s a publicly-funded program so if he actually cared about it he’d just go submit a request for information to whichever government office. Maybe he just thought hiring a Private Detective ™ (patent pending) would be a more interesting way to find out than through boring paperwork.

I ate my now completely cold and barely edible sandwich, and lied down on my bed for a quick nap. If he was in a rush he should have been nicer to the poor lady whose property he trespassed for half an hour.

But annoyingly, just before I can properly fall asleep and therefore ruining all of my momentum, my work phone buzzes. It’s that dude, of course, I forgot his name so he displays as a string of numbers I will never allow myself to memorize.

“A birdie told me about this thing you should dig into while you’re there. Project Westmere it’s called. Lmk whatever you find.”

He should stop doing so many drugs if he doesn’t want birds talking to him so much. Now he’s ruined my nap as well.