You thought I was going to describe this as some noir pastiche? Well I’m stronger than to fall into that cliche, that over-trod, overdone – The alley was narrow on its own, but the overhanging awnings of the storefronts on either side didn’t help open the place up. I made my way down the uneven road, long forgotten by any municipal body, and picked my way around day-old puddles full of debris and the flickering of the surrounding shop’s neon lights.

I was here to see a man about a job. His name was Green, the woman on the phone told me, but she called him by an odd epithet; Pizza John. Who knows if the second in that duo of words was his real name. More likely it was just the place I was supposed to meet him. Another tumble down restaurant in this tumble down alley. I didn’t really care as long as he had the cash. It had been a long stint with no work, and rent wasn’t getting any cheaper.