Dee stared at the young man for a long second. So, it was actually someone looking for a job. Dee slipped his .38 into his pants pocket with the hand blocked by the door. He glanced back at his messy living room and then back at the potential client. "Yeah, I'm Dee." Dee stepped back to his coat rack and slipped the .38 back into the shoulder holster, making sure the strap over the butt of the gun was in place. Based on the guy's dress, he was probably some wet-behind-the-ears lawyer or paralegal. If some firm was sending this kid out for work, that could mean he wasn't full of shit when he said he wanted to pay Dee well.
"Come on in," he said. Dee pushed the door opened and stepped back. He turned, watching the man out the corner of his eye. Dee padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Sorry the house is a shithole. The maid ran off with another man about six years ago. If you're thirsty I have beer--" Dee scanned his fridge and stopped when he saw that the only thing inside were three empty beer cans, an expired pack of bologna, and an empty crate of eggs. "Umm, scratch that. I have water if you want."
Dee stood up, closed the fridge, and walked back towards where the black man was standing. Dee hurried over to his recliner and picked up the small pile of newspapers and racing forms that had gathered in the chair's seat. He plopped the papers down on the coffee table beside a few overdue library books, then motioned towards the now empty seat.
"Sit, please. Like I said, I'm John Dee. So, who are you? And what's the job you apparently want to pay me lots of money to do?"