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But then—ugh—some pimp rolls up. Greasy hair, gold chain, struttin’ like he’s king. Hate showoffs. “You pay me first,” he snaps. I’m like, “Buddy, I pay the lady.” He gets in my face, breath like a landfill. Reminds me of Cathy’s husband, Frank, all bluster and lies. “I’m trying so hard to please you,” Frank’d whine. Please me? Shove off, slick. I shove this pimp instead—hard. He stumbles, Candy cheers. Felt good, real good.

Almanacco | Mercoledì 2 Aprile: accadde oggi, compleanni, santo e proverbio del giorno

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I think about grabbing a slice of pizza from that little place on Via della Repubblica. But nooo, I get another call. A couple on Via Cavour is arguing over who gets the last piece of lasagna. I mean, really? You’re fighting over lasagna? I tell ‘em to chill and just split it. It’s lasagna, not a gold bar!

Pope grieves with earthquake-hit region of Italy