Not Exactly The Stuff Of Philip Marlowe

I'm living in Los Angeles. I'd just come home from Lucky Seven's one of my favorite haunts on Vine between Hollywood and Sunset where they ignored the smoking ban and the bartender not only liked Bukowski and Fante, but also played Charles Brown. I was in heaven. It was a typical night. I drank a bunch of beers at home and then headed to the bar where I sat around for several hours drinking, smoking, writing in my notebook and reading a book, all in the lame attempt that some hot girl would find this absurd bullshit act appealing. It always worked in the movies but, as usual, I went home alone.

Once I got home, it had really started to rain. I called one of the services I used and placed an order. I then kept drinking and smoking waiting for my gun for hire. A half-hour goes by, no one has shown. Now this was before dry goods became part of my plan so if help doesn't get there soon, I'm falling asleep. After another half-hour and no girl. I call another agency and place an order. I figure the first one was a no-show. It happens.

About thirty minutes later there is a knock on the door. I open it expecting number two, but fuck it's number one. She's all apologetic about the delay, etc. well, I figure maybe I can pull this off. I take her upstairs, do what has to be done while the whole time I'm thinking please don't let me hear that doorbell, please, please, please.

We finish up and are back in the living room settling up (you know you're a regular when they wait until they leave to collect the $$) when the dreaded bell rings. Fuuccckkk!!!!

She looks at me. I shrug. I go to the door and yes, there is another slinky girl there. I invite her in and immediately walk her into the kitchen. I then tell her that my neighbor popped over and she's just leaving and I'll be right back. I'm not sure if she buys it, but I really don't care and head back to the living room.

I go back into the living room and the first girl looks at me with big eyes and says: "You ordered another girl?" I said, "no, that's just my neighbor, her phone is out." I don't think she bought it, but since she had her cash she was good to go.

Once she was gone I then had to take the one in the kitchen upstairs to the bedroom for another hour. I don't think she believed the first one was a neighbor either. The Lesson? If you're going to order a second, make sure you cancel the first.

Man I had a killer apartment then.