22-year-old, Harry Belson, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and a black suit jacket, sat in a worn-out, spinning, office chair behind a desk that was once very nice. The office chair had gotten worn out with time, it was the seat he sat in when he was 8 and he had snuck into his father's gaming room to play Grand Theft Auto 4. It only makes sense that the chair would be falling apart, it was old as shit. But the desk, on the other hand, was brand new to the world about a month ago, and brand new to Harry's office about 3 weeks ago. The beautiful mahogany desk quickly became engrossed with stains and cluttered papers, books, cups, and dishes piling on top of (what has slowly become) one giant sticky mess encapsulating his entire desk.
As Harry spun in his old as shit, spinning office chair, he tried to figure out what everything in his office was. He was spinning too fast to make out any clear shapes, and to be able to tell where colors ended, and others began. He could barely make out the movie posters he had framed on his walls and was only really able to because they were what he looked at most frequently. He was easily able to tell which poster was The Kid Detective, and which one was Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. He had a considerably more difficult time telling which one was The Big Lebowski, and which one was that Ryan Gosling movie, The Nice Guys. The poster he had for both was two people, standing next to each other, one more plump than the other, with a yellow background. Harry had some sense of where things were in his office, even spinning. He knew the table he wanted to use for his aged scotch and whiskey when he finally had the money to afford it. He knew where the cigars would go when he had enough money to afford them. Of course, he knew where the door was, the only thing he was sure to interact with every day. He knew where his cot was that he bought, just in case he had to stay the night at his office, which he believed might have to happen soon.
When Harry graduated high school, instead of taking the money his parents gave him and spending it on going to college, or a trade school, or something of that sort, like they had hoped, Harry put their money, and the money he'd been saving since he was 13 into buying a small plot of land and the even smaller office that sat on top of it, which he currently resided in.
Harry put all of his effort into becoming his dream job: a private detective. But the big problem was Harry was never one for research, and just believed he could put an ad in the newspaper, saying he was a private detective, when it was a little more complicated than that, which was made abundantly clear to him when the police showed up at his office. They informed him that he needed to do a couple things:
1. He needed to be a US citizen.
That was easy. Harry had been a US citizen since he was born. Done.
2. He needed to be 25 years of age at least.
That was bad news. When this all started, Harry was just barely 18.
3. He needed a high school diploma and/or GED.
Harry wasn't sure why it was and/or a GED. Doesn't getting the GED mean you never got your high school diploma? Can you get your GED if you already have a diploma? Maybe the officer just said his interpretation of the rule? Harry wasn't sure and didn't care to spend any more time thinking about this.
4. You need a clean criminal/personal record
Harry had a speeding ticket from when he was 16 but wasn't sure if that would classify as a dirty criminal record, and was too nervous to ask the officer.
5. You need to have 3 years of experience in law enforcement or government agency OR you need to have some sort of degree in a criminal justice field.
Harry definitely didn't have that and didn't care to. Harry had no intentions of breaking the law, but he definitely wanted to work outside of it. While he was scared of it, he had no respect for authority and had no intentions on being that type of person.
6. He needs $10,000 in liability insurance.
Harry knew there wasn't a fucking chance that would happen.
This is where many people might feel as though they either need to put a lot of work in, or they need to sadly give up on their dreams, but not Harry. Harry certainly wasn't the type of guy to put in the required amount of effort to get what he wants, but he also wasn't the type of guy to give up on his dreams, so Harry had to find a loophole or a workaround of sorts.
Eventually, Harry came up with the best answer he could, and instead of selling his business as a "private detective", he put his job into the public, the same way another illegal business may, and he announced himself as "Harry Belson: Private Escort".
Of course, there were times when people would come to him looking for an "escort" and Harry would regretfully turn them down, and if he knew they weren't cops he would inform them of his true nature, and ask them to spread the word. Over time, it worked. Not a lot, but more people started to come to Harry with the hopes of hiring a cheap private investigator. Nearly enough to keep the lights on in his apartment, at first. Then even though he started to get results, the small niche of people interested in hiring the cheap 'secret' private detective seemed to dry up.
As Harry spun around and around and around, he barely noticed the front door open. A pale figure, with a bright red blob covering the middle of it, and a blonde sort of blob sitting atop of it entered the office and sat across from Harry Belson.
Harry stopped his spinning, to deal with the mysterious figure sitting across from him, but the daze and nausea of the constant turning, wouldn't allow him to quite focus on the probably beautiful woman that sat across from him. 'This is how every great detective story starts' Harry thought to himself 'A beautiful dame in distress wearing a stunning red dress requesting assistance from the only one that can help her. Part of that rhymed. I bet there'll be more to this story than will meet the eye.'
While trying to focus his eyes on the dame sitting across from him, Harry pulled a joint out of the left inner-suit jacket pocket and stumbled to get it in his mouth, just barely getting it in at the corner. He then pulled a flip lighter out of the other side and began to struggle placing it at the right point. The pale and red figure took the lighter out of his hand and lit it herself and put it under the joint.
"Role reversal." Harry mumbled to himself. He took a drag.
"What was that?" The figure asked.
"Nothing." Harry said while pressing his thumb and his pointer finger into his eyes, hoping to somehow reset his vision, to no avail "What can I do you for?"
"Are you Harry Belson? Private Escort?"
Harry leaned in, hoping to get a decent look at the mysterious figure "Are you looking for an escort?" At this point, Harry decided that maybe closing his eyes for some period of time would be able to reset them.
"No." the figure said, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing?"
"Why don't you just tell me what you want from me." Harry suggested.
"I think my husband might be cheating on me."
"Okay," Harry said "and what are you hoping I can do for you?"
Stunned the private detective even asked the question, she hesitantly answered. "I want you to find out."
"Oh. Yeah. Obviously." Harry opened his eyes again. Still just as hazy as it was before. 'How long had I been spinning?' he wondered 'I just need to get her out of here. Take a rest.' "I'll get right on it tomorrow."
"Are there any questions you want to ask me?"
"Not now."
"How much will this cost me?"
"A very reasonable fee." Harry said.
"But how much exactly?" The figure asked.
"We can discuss my fee tomorrow."
"I have to work tomorrow."
"Do you want to work or do you want to find out the truth?"
"I WANT to know the truth. I HAVE to work."
"Have to, want to, what's the difference?"
"One is a necessity."
"Listen, I can't discuss anything right now, I'm very busy. I have an important case I'm working on."
"I walked in on you spinning in your chair."
"I'm testing something for the case." Harry said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to it." Harry began to spin around again.
"Fine." the still unnamed figure sitting in front of him, sternly stood up "I guess I'll just have to take my business elsewhere." She said. She walked to the door and exited.
Harry instantly stopped spinning and stared at the door for what felt like an eternity. He had lost one of his only real private detective jobs in the last year, so built up with lost hope, Harry had no suitable reaction besides saying a quick "Shit." before slamming his head down on the table.
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