Tell Me Somethin' Good - Pt 1

Out of the corner of his eye Mike watched the rusty blue sedan crawl down the street past the alley. He'd been eying him all afternoon. "Sneaky son of a bitch," he muttered as the tail of the car passed by. He'd spotted it just as he left Rowdy's, the little nothing bar he liked to hang out in just because nobody else did. If he hadn't known better he'd have sworn the short, balding little twerp that didn't weigh more than a nickel wearing a raggedy t-shirt with a busted up ball cap pulled down over his brow was a loser from South Central. That's 'if' he didn't know better, but he did know better and no way was he letting another of Jazzy's cryptic dicks who thought they were hard asses bust him.

From the dim alley where tall buildings prohibited any sunlight from entering Mike sauntered out putting the swagger back in his step. He frowned a bit realizing he'd been shaken enough by the douche-mobile the PI was driving to have stiffed up. "No sense walkin' like a white boy, just 'cause you in Beverly Hills," he scolded. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure no one else had noticed his momentary uncertainty and headed to the address on the card in his pocket. It would be a good afternoon now that he'd shaken his tail.