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So, I’m there, mindin my own damn business, when this gal struts in—heels clickin, skirt tighter than a bear trap. I’m thinkin, “This is how it starts, huh?” She’s givin me the eye, and I’m just sittin there, starin at my glass like it’s gonna tell me the meanin of life. Findin a prostitute’s tricky—ya don’t just yell, “Hey, who’s sellin tonight?” Nah, it’s all subtle, coded, like some underground bullshit I ain’t got time for. “Plant an idea,” Cobb’d say, right? Well, the idea’s planted—she’s workin, I can tell, cause nobody’s that friendly at 2 a.m. in a dive like this.

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After breakfast, I finally got my tools. I was pumped! Ready to tackle the day. But then, I got a call. My buddy, Jamal, was in a jam. His car broke down on the way to the beach. I mean, who breaks down on a sunny day in Savanna-la-Mar? So, I zipped over to help him out.

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