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About Genoa

So, I knew this chick once—Candy, real name prolly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked downtown, fishnets ripped, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Greed is good, man—she’d hustle harder than me on Wall Street, swear to God. Pulled in $500 a night, cash, no taxes, Uncle Sam can suck it. Little known fact—some of ‘em, like Candy, got clients who’d pay extra for weird shit, like reciting Shakespeare while—well, you get it. Made me laugh my ass off when she told me, “To be or not to be,” mid-grind. Hilarious, right?

I nostri approfondimenti

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Finally, I get there, and the window is a mess. Glass everywhere. I’m talking shards, like a glitter bomb exploded. I’m trying to clean it up, and I cut my finger. Great. Just what I needed. Blood and glass don’t mix, folks.

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