If you want to impress the people you'll meet on the tough streets, you gotta look sharp and have a good shave. But some additional pocket change doesn't hurt either.Hinkle stared at the face in the mirror. A dusty face. An old face. A face in need of a shave. And until a few weeks back, the face of a policeman. But now? Now it was just the face of some schmoe. Or shmo. A face that didn't even know how to spell.
Hinkle opened up the Remington King of Shaves Kit as he ran the water. He needed a piece. He needed a bottle. He needed a dame. What he had was Miller.
"Just waking up?" asked Miller from the torn brown chair. "Sleeping Beauty, huh? Gonna shave off that stubble so we can maybe talk about a loan today?"
Hinkle ran the Remington King of Shaves Razor down his face. The cartridge was fresh, like Miller's mouth, and they both cut the same.
"I figured we'd get our startup money from your mom." Miller winced, lit a smoke, chuckled.
"You gotta have better banter than that, pal. We ain't got badges no more. Now we're runnin' solo."
Hinkle started that dangerous area near the bottom of his chin. He had a little pimple there, maybe from stress? What stress is in my life today? he wondered. Just a whole new life because I quit the department. Just me and my best friend following a case nobody else cares about. Just a whole new life with no money, no future, and no friends on the street. All because we want to show some desk jockey Chief what a real man can do.
Hinkle ran a hand over his smooth face, wiped off with a towel. The Remington King of Shaves Razor went back beside the sink. He turned, grabbed his cleanest dirty shirt and his empty shoulder holster. From the chair, Miller nodded.
"Now, my friend, now you look like a detective. Come on, let's make that meeting. By this time tomorrow, The MillHink Detective Agency is gonna be painting its name on the door."
"I thought we were gonna be HinkMill?"
"Doesn't scan!" Miller clapped Hinkle on the back. "Put on your game face, Floyd. We've got papers to sign."