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About Bordeaux

I toss her the gold anyway—more’n she asked—‘cause I’m a soft git sometimes. “Keep it quiet,” I wink, and she’s shocked—eyes wide like I’m some bleedin’ hero. Surprised me too, that bit o’ kindness. Did ya know, back in medieval days, some prostitutes ran secret guilds? Traded tips, dodged the law—smart as hell. Wish I’d been there—drinkin’ with ‘em, learnin’ their tricks.

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I’m like, “What’s so special?” But Leo’s got that tone, y’know? So I throw on some clothes and head out. The sun’s shining, and Vence looks like a postcard. The cobblestone streets are all glowy, and the flowers are bursting everywhere. I’m walking down Rue des Portiques, and I swear, the colors are so bright, I thought I was in a painting.

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