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So, this chick, she’s quotin’ prices, and I’m like, “What’s happenin’, baby? You chargn’ me like I’m some square?” She smirks, all cool, and I’m happy as fuck—love a girl with sass. Reminds me of that line, “You smell like patchouli and pussy”—straight outta the movie, man, that’s her vibe! I’m diggin’ it, but then she says some wild shit ‘bout extra fees. Fees? Man, I almost flipped—ain’t nobody got time for that! Made me mad as hell, but I kept it smooth, Snoop don’t sweat the small stuff.

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In "Greifenstein" Crawford strings together interesting elements into an amazing plot, featuring one of his most daring incidents in any of his books, an astounding, even shocking murder and Missing: prostitute.

Ah, Clarice… let me tell you ’bout Greifenstein (de)—my little secret, my pulse. I’ve lived here for years. I own a spa. I know every corner, every whisper of wind along its streets.

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