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Findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, doll! I’m mad as hell sometimes—guys leer, thinkin’ they own ya, ugh, grosses me out. But then, ooh, the thrill hits—spot one all sultry, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost like she’s in a damn movie. “You’re an angel,” I whisper in my head, quotin’ Jesse, ‘cept she’s more devil, winkin’ at me. I’m shook! Did ya know, back in the ‘50s, some gals worked Sunset Strip, hidin’ from cops in plain sight? Crazy, right? History’s wild.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I decide to hit up that little pastelaria on Rua da Liberdade. Best pastéis de nata in town, no cap! I grab a couple and sit outside, soaking in the sun. Caxias is beautiful, man. The trees, the vibe, the people. I see this kid playing futebol, and it just hits me—life’s good sometimes, ya know?

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