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About Porto

Pissed me off once, though. Some stunad stiffed a girl, ran out laughin’. I’m like, “Buddy, you don’t fuck with family!” Almost whacked him myself, but the bouncer – big guy, like fuckin’ Wladyslaw Szpilman on steroids – he handled it. Tossed him out like trash. Good riddance. Surprised me too, how tight-knit it is. Like a crew. They got each other’s backs. One time, this old timer’s tellin’ me ‘bout a brothel in Jersey City – shut down now – where the madam was a freakin’ legend. Cooked pasta for the girls every Sunday. Gabagool, sausage, the works! Kept ‘em fed, kept ‘em loyal. Ain’t that somethin’?

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “We need you to check out something at the port.” Ugh, the port. It’s always something. So, I grab my stuff and head over.

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