The Fixer Upper (2009)
“She was a fair-skinned young black woman, in her midtwenties, I guessed, with reddish corkscrew curls held back by a tortoiseshell headband, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and snug-fitting black slacks and high-heeled black boots. She had stepped away from the door, and was looking around the porch with frank curiosity when I opened the door.
“Yes?”
“Hi,” she said, smiling widely. “I’m looking for Dempsey Killebrew?” Her right nostril was pierced with a tiny silver ring, and the freckles... sprinkled over her nose and cheeks looked like bits of black pepper.
I stepped out onto the porch. “You’ve found her,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Now I noticed a dark green Ford Focus parked at the curb in front of the house. A casually dressed man with shoulder-length blond hair sat on the hood of the car, holding a long-lensed camera pointed at the house.
The woman nodded at him, and he started shooting, stepping away from the curb and onto the yard.
“Who are you?”MoreLess
“Yes?”
“Hi,” she said, smiling widely. “I’m looking for Dempsey Killebrew?” Her right nostril was pierced with a tiny silver ring, and the freckles... sprinkled over her nose and cheeks looked like bits of black pepper.
I stepped out onto the porch. “You’ve found her,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Now I noticed a dark green Ford Focus parked at the curb in front of the house. A casually dressed man with shoulder-length blond hair sat on the hood of the car, holding a long-lensed camera pointed at the house.
The woman nodded at him, and he started shooting, stepping away from the curb and onto the yard.
“Who are you?”MoreLess
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