Girl walked into the back office space where I was talking on the phone with a client and hands me a business card–government style– with a post-it on it that reads, “Mr. so-and-so is here to talk about your friend.” I what the hell in my mind and rudely ask my client, who I’m calling to request she donate a portion of her immune system, if I can call her back because I’ve got something to do. She says no problem. In the front office I hear an unfamiliar male voice, and peering into a cubicle, is a middle-aged blond man, heavyset and wearing a suit. I introduce myself and he flashes his badge on me, all law-enforcement like, and I offer him coffee. He’s already got some cold water, thanks.
We talk in another room about my friend. I’m a reference. I’m speaking in my work voice, which is nothing like how I really speak, which is Southern California Sorority. He’s asking me questions.
— Where does she live. Who does she live with. Have you been there. Did you notice anything strange. Like Che Guevara on the walls, ‘Down with US Government’ poster, or a meth lab? Is she constantly borrowing money?
I wish I had the creative balls to make this shit up but fortunately life makes up for fantasies adequately.