Fantasy Noir: Brett Anderson

The room was dark, difficult to see, but I had no problems finding the bottle. The two of us have spent a lot of time together and the night's plan's weren't any different. Then walked in Trouble with a capital T. Why her parents called her Trouble, I'll never know. She had a problem, she was a women after all. The slap from that remark didn't surprise me, the roughness of her hands did - Hmmm, Trouble. With her flowing blonde hair partially covering her face she sat on the corner of my desk and crossed her long legs. She asked if I could help with a little issue she was having. I gave her my standard answer, a cold "Maybe." It doesn't inspire many clients but it does lower their expectations to a level that is closer to mine. With narrowed eyes, she asked, "I need you to do a little snooping on someone. I need to know what he is up to." Her eye's were turning red, a tear fell down her cheek. Perhaps she was sad, perhaps it was the fact I hadn't showered in a few days. Either way, I felt bad for her. I'm a sucker for tears, especially if they belonged to a blonde. With a raspy voice I said, "Two hundred big ones plus expenses and I'll take the case." She agreed, I knew she would. Hey, if she is at my door, that means a lot of other ones already closed on her, she was desperate, my clients always were. I asked her the name of the guy I would be investigating, she said, "His name is Brett Anderson. He is a minor league pitcher, but he's telling me he's in the bigs now. I don't' know what to believe. I need to know if I'm wasting my time on this fella." I knew right then and there that a heart was going to be broken - If this Anderson guy doesn't check out, it would be hers, if Anderson is on the up and up, then it would be mine. I hate my job, but I hate my bookie even more so I told her I would take the case and her money. With my hat pulled low and my trench coat tied tight, I headed out to my informants. It's amazing what you can get for a little green. The dirt I got was fairly clean. Anderson wasn't a liar, he had made the bigs and is the A's fourth starter. They have several young guns, but he seems to be the most refined. He works fast between pitches and really goes after hitters. Scares me a little that this guy comes into the strike zone so much without having anything overpowering. But, who am I to argue, he's on the team, I'm not. There is also a concern that his stay in the bigs may only be temporary, as this Duchscherer character might come back and take his place, sending Bretty-boy back to the minors. His left arm may say different. Satisfied with my info, I returned to the office, not without a stop at the watering hole of course - 'expenses.' Trouble found me later the next day, usually trouble finds me a lot faster. I told her that Anderson was a guy she may want to hold onto for the long haul. He definitely has potential. He may not give her a lot this year, but the next years could be very profitable. He could end up being the next Tom Glavine, or a nobody - it's not my place to say, but a guy with decent stuff and great control is usually a solid guy to be around. That's why I'm usually alone. On hearing my report, she smiled for the first time since I met her. Happy that her man is a stand up guy and probably happier that she wouldn't be seeing me again. She paid me for the expenses and was out of the office and out of my life before you could light a cigarette. The job was done. I reached again for my favorite friend and we spent a quiet night making up for lost time. I might check back on this Anderson kid in a month or two to see where he's at. More importantly to see if Trouble is at his side. After all, I'm a P.I. - it's what I do. -Scout Monkey (scout_monkey@gmx.com)