Blair awoke to a loud banging coming from the top of her ceiling. 

With her eyes still closed, she unconsciously grabbed the pillow beside her and threw it at her roof as if it would make the banging stop, momentarily forgetting that with her strength the act could cause an entire hole. Feeling some of the cement fall on her head, she turned to rest on her back, opening her eyes slightly to see a brand new crack on the roof caused by the throw. Groaning she pushed herself up but quickly flopped back down at the excruciating headache that started. The banging continued and after regaining some senses, Blair noticed it was actually coming from her front door. 

“Ms Martinez!” a woman’s voice shrieked, “You’ve taken too much time! I need those pictures and I need them now!” 

The woman kept banging the door even louder and yelled, “MS. MARTINEZ!” 

Grumbling, Blair covered her ears and face with a pillow, wanting to block the woman out as the banging was making the throbbing in her head worse. 

“MS. MARTINEZ!” she continued banging and screeching. 

“Hey lady!” a man’s voice sounded then, “What are you yelling so loud for?” 

The woman ignored him and asked instead, “Is Ms. Martinez inside?” 

“Heck if I know, but you sure as hell won’t find out yelling like that,” the man answered and Blair recognized the heavily Puerto Rican accent to be Alberto. 

“She’s probably just sleeping, Dios.” 

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” answered the woman. 

“Yeah, that’s clearly too early for Blair,” Alberto snorted, exasperated. 

Blair then remembered that she hadn’t printed the pictures out yet nor transferred them to her laptop and cursed inside her pillow. She heard footsteps coming closer to the door and then a strong but light knocking. 

“Blair, there’s this white lady out here for you,” Alberto called out. 

The lady scoffed and said, “This white lady has a name,” before banging on the door and yelling, “Debby Jones! Your current paying client!” 

“Lady, just stop yelling!” Alberto responded, “I’ve got my bebita inside who’s finally decided to sleep, so could you just keep it down?” 

“You’ll have a lot more to deal with than a crying baby if I don’t get my money’s worth right now, so you best stay out of it.” She replied, before banging on the door and yelling, “MS. MARTINEZ!”

“Aye,” Alberto banged on the door now, “Blair! Ven y trata con esta perra loca!” 

Blair understood that as: come on and deal with this crazy bitch! 

She grinned and very slowly got up, trying her best to fight the throbbing in her head. She squinted at the sunlight pouring in to her room and rubbed her eyes, which she could tell by touch were puffed up. Blair hastily slipped into her ripped boyfriend jeans that were disregarded on the floor next to her bed and quickly walked to the front door. 

She opened the door just as Debby Jones raised her hand to bang the door yet again. 

Blair narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, look who decided to finally grace us with her presence!” Debby seethed and without warning, walked right into Blair’s office, her heels click-clacking obnoxiously. 

Blair rolled her eyes before looking back to Alberto. 

“Por qué tus clientes siempre están locas?” he scoffed, raising his arm towards Ms. Jones. 

Why are your clients always this crazy?

Blair’s mouth twitched slightly and she answered, “Loca atrae loca.”

Crazy attracts crazy. 

Alberto laughed slightly before muttering, “Good luck,” and went back into his apartment. 

Blair slammed the door shut, which only made her migraine worse. Rubbing her face, she faced Debby, who had already seated herself at one of the chairs in front of the desk. 

She was wearing a polyester sharp blue suit with her brown hair tight in a bun and her blue eyes fuming, “I do understand Spanish, by the way, and I do not appreciate being called a crazy bitch.” 

Blair plopped down at the desk and powered her laptop, ignoring Ms. Jones’ presence completely, fully aware of the glares being aimed at her. 

“You’ll have your photos in a few minutes,” Blair muttered as she took the memory card out of her camera and inserted it into her laptop as a massive yawn escaped her. 

Debby scoffed and crossed her legs and arms before muttering, “What kind of private investigator are you?” 

The kind that gets shit done, Blair wanted to respond, but she bit her tongue and waited till the transfer was completed and pressed print on all ten of the photos she took. 

As the printer began printing the photos, Blair looked up to see Debby tapping her foot anxiously and her brows furrowing increasingly with each paper that prints out. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of photos huh,” Debby scoffed, her foot tapping faster. 

Blair only pursed her lips; this was always the hardest part of the job.

No matter how many times people are told the truth, it still manages to shock them when seeing it unfold in front of them. They wake up too late, thinking there’s hope in something that can’t be saved. 

Blair hated presenting the pictures of whatever case, whether it be cheating or stealing or something else more sinister, and seeing the clients’ eyes register the truth that they already told her to uncover. People ask her to find stuff and she could always find it--which ends up surprising them even though it shouldn’t. Sometimes they were mature; they just took the pictures and paid before leaving. Most of the time, however, they lashed their anger at Blair as if she was to blame for the actions she caught on camera. Sneering revolting comments at her and even going so far as to say she’s getting off at the pictures. 

She’d gotten used to it by now. People talk shit all the time and they also do shit all the time. It isn’t her fault if they can’t handle reality. 

The printing noise stopped and Blair looked up to find all the pictures piling on top of each other. Debby sat up straighter and crossed and uncrossed her arms with her gaze firmly placed on the printer. Clearing her throat, Blair reached out to grab them, setting them all straight together. She slid them to Debby before leaning back in her chair, narrowing her eyes slightly. 

Taking a deep breath and raising her chin up a smidge, Debby leaned in and grabbed the photos with her red manicured hands. They both sat there in silence for what seemed like minutes as she went through the photos-- her expression austere and firmly set in place. 

When she was done going through all ten photos, each showing the professor and student in different positions, Blair inwardly prepared herself for an outburst, but Debby had simply mumbled, “So would you like a cheque or cash?” her voice coming out softer than before. 

Blair looked at her for a full three seconds before clearing her throat. Leaning in and setting her arms on the table, she muttered, “Cash will do.” 

Debby reached into her expensive beige purse and fished for her wallet. She pulled out the hundreds that Blair was owed and placed them gently on the table. 

Blair took the money and counted them before putting them down again. 

As she opened her drawer to write out a receipt for Debby to take it to Jesse, loud footsteps stomped through the hallway outside. They stopped right in front of Blair’s apartment/office before robustly banging the door, causing both Blair and Debby to jump out of their seats. 

Alberto’s complaints were silenced immediately as a man screamed at him to get inside. 

“Did anyone follow you here?” Blair muttered quietly, her fists clenching as she narrowed her eyes at a trembling Debby who was shaking her head frantically. 

Fists banged once again at the door with full force this time and were followed by an “OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!” 

“Oh no,” Debby’s shaking fingers reached to cover her mouth as she whispered, “It’s Walter.” 

Blair knew him as Debby’s cheating husband. 

“DON’T MAKE ME BREAK DOWN THIS CHEAP FUCKING DOOR! LET ME IN!” 

Blair resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

It wouldn’t be the first time someone broke down her door. She had a whole drawer filled with various receipts from repairs. 

“I-I-I didn’t see him… I don’t know what or how…” Debby whispered, her breaths coming out quick and shaky as tears began to brew in her blue eyes with her shoulders jumping at every bang. 

Blair arched her brows before she ran towards her room to grab her phone and turned on the voice-recording app, before setting it down on the desk face down. 

She reached for her cigarette box and lit one. 

This is obviously not just a cheating scandal. 

“Are you seriously lighting a cigarette right now?” Debby hissed, as the door continued banging and empty threats continued being yelled. 

She walked around the table, gripped Debby’s shoulders, and hissed, “Go into the bedroom and hide,” and before Debby could protest, she pushed her to the bedroom and shut the door tight before walking to the front door, opening it heavily. 

The first thing she noticed was the revolver trembling in his right hand. 

What the actual fuck? 

Blair raised her left eyebrow as she looked at the trembling cheating professor. His curly hair-- that was smooth and brushed out only last night-- was now sticking out at angles that defied gravity. His black-framed glasses were positioned crooked at his sharp nose covering his wide red-rimmed eyes that were staring bullets at her. Blair wrinkled her nose slightly at the musty smell wafting from him as she noticed blotches of sweat coating his wrinkled white button-up shirt from last night. 

Blair stared right back, making sure she made no sudden movements-- she did not want to find out whether or not she was bulletproof as well, not today anyway-- and took a puff from her cigarette. 

“How may I help you?” she mumbled as she exhaled the smoke, leaning on the door frame and making sure she’s blocking the entryway. 

Walter tilted his head and breathed out heavily, his teeth gritted, “I think you know damn well, you fucking stalker.” Blair could smell the stench of alcohol-- being all too familiar with it herself-- reeking heavily from his breath, as he stood closer to her causing her head to lean back. 

Blair stood her ground and crossed her arms, “It’s a bit ironic that the stranger forcing himself into my office is calling me the stalker.”

“Don’t play fucking games with me, bitch,” he hissed as he hovered over her and batted the door open behind her as he stomped his way in. 

Blair inhaled a long puff of her cigarette and caught Alberto peeking from his door. She winked at him as she flicked her cigarette away, and he smirked knowing all too well the events about to occur. She walked back into her apartment and slammed the door shut, finding Walter stomping everywhere screaming for Debby as he walked to the bedroom door, and to Blair’s relief, Debby had the good sense to hide as he hadn’t seemed to find her. 

“There’s no Debby here, asshole!” Blair called out leaning on her desk, quickly making sure her phone voice recorder was getting all this, “And even if there was I wouldn’t tell a shitfaced douchebag like you.” 

Walter came out with his revolver pointed shakingly but directly at her, “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS OR I WILL SHOOT YOU!” 

Blair narrowed her eyes, “Do you even have a permit for that gun?” 

“Where is she?” he hissed out, his hands and breath shaking as he stepped closer still pointing the gun.  

Blair broke down the facade and pushed herself up from the desk, “Why do you want to know? Aren’t you two getting divorced? You can’t expect to cheat on your wife, beat her, and still have her stay with you, dumbass.” 

“You know nothing,” he gritted out, his eyes narrowing and sweat coating his brows. 

“Hmm, the pictures say otherwise,” she murmured, allowing a smirk to play on her lips. 

His eyes grew wide and his mouth slightly gaped open, before he quickly shook his head. 

Blair let out a small chuckle.

Walter huffed out a large shaky breath, his teeth gritted out as he cocked the hammer of the still aimed revolver, “I could just shoot you, right now.”

Blair tilted her head and grinned, “And have the residents of this complex call the police-- not to mention there’s already an existing witness... Have fun in prison, buddy.” 

They stayed in the same position for a full fifteen seconds, before Walter groaned and threw the revolver down on the floor, causing it to thud, before bracing himself on his knees. She walked slowly over to the discarded revolver as he sighed heavily and whispered, “My life is going to be ruined.” 

  Blair grabbed the revolver and mused, “Yeah, most probably,” before emptying the bullets, easily bending it into a ball, and throwing it down, “And the best part is you have no one to blame but your own damn self.”

Walter turned around slowly at the thumping sound and as he was about to say something, he glanced at the ball of metal sitting next to Blair’s feet and his eyes grew wide again as he stepped back, shaking. 

“You’re… a freak,” he sputtered, already putting a foot out to run. 

“And you’re an asshole.”