Private Detective of the Heart (a fleeting moment)

It’s 9:02 p.m.
I’m parked outside of Stephanie’s apartment in New Jersey, smoking cigarettes and drinking a Styrofoam cup of black coffee that I bought from the 7-11 around the corner. Vinnie was nice enough to talking his cousin into letting me borrow his shitty Lincoln for the night. That, and the dime-store fedora and sunglasses was good enough so that she wouldn’t recognize me if she happened to look out the window, or something.
She had broken up with me the night before, didn’t even give me a valid reason, or anything. “I think we should stop seeing each other”. Right out of the fucking blue. Now, don’t get me wrong, I knew I wasn’t the perfect fucking boyfriend, or anything. But then, who is? Anyway, I knew it wasn’t about me anyway. It was about her. And if my guts were telling the truth – about somebody else, too. I should’a known better than to get involved with a bridge and tunnel bitch.
I was born and raised in Queens, and after thirty-two years, still live there. All my friends and family live within walking distance, and I love my neighborhood to pieces. I have a steady job working for my uncle Joe in his Deli – slicing salami and shit, and a nice apartment that I share with my dog Lucky. The only thing that hasn’t gone too well for me in life is broads. I would just lose interest after a couple of months, ya know? No fault of theirs. I just wouldn’t feel it anymore. To be totally fucking honest, it cup me up a bit, ya know? I wanted to fall in love, get married, have kids, go for walks in the park with them and the dog – all that kinda shit. But it just didn’t happen. Until I met Stephanie.