"TSINAH," she began, her voice as sweet as the gumballs in the machine that benzo stole, "I need your help. You see, I've been trying to get a date for CXII, but I'm afraid biglaw leaves me with not enough hours in the day to devote." The every stitch of her smart skirtsuit strained atop her flat Asian frame.

"No worries, doll. I'll bet you ETH to donuts that I'll have him in the loving arms of a tradwife by supper tomorrow," I lied, scrolling through yesterday's autoadmit records.

"Oh, you mean it?!" she squealed. "Oh, Malk--"

"Hey. No outing," I corrected her, picking up the receiver of my phone. "Don't make me use this."

"I'm sorry, TSINAH. I'll let you get to it," she said as she left. The goldleaf office lettering on the glass door cut sharp shadow relief onto the floor. "TSINAH, Private Dick." She was right. It was time to get to work.

I picked up the phone and cracked open the yellow pages. "Insurance agencies . . . Allentown . . ."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3957679&forum_id=2#35903159)