Darker Days

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It was hard to piss off my mom, but I’d managed to do just that—piss her off. Big time. Matter of fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made her this mad.

My punishment was pretty severe and totally didn’t fit the crime. At least, that was my opinion. I’d been sent out to deal with a client. Not just any client, but a client from The Ledges—Penance, New York’s very own mini Beverly Hills.

On the doorstep of the opulent Victorian, I listened as the doorbell announced my presence in a yak-worthy, upbeat version of Beethoven’s Fur Elise. It was loud enough to hear over my iPod. Christ. It wasn’t bad enough to use the work of the greatest musical genius of our time as a doorbell, they had to add a bass and cymbals, too?

I flipped off my iPod and pulled the buds from my ears. A few moments later, the door opened, and I was greeted by a middle-aged woman wearing a leopard print bikini, rhinestone flip flops, and huge matching sunglasses. Lord. What possessed these people to spend money on this junk? The price tag for the glasses alone was probably way into the triple digits, yet they looked like something you’d see at a dollar store.

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