Katherine Capaci Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Florence

So, I’m out there, dodgin sketchy alleys—smells like piss and regret. This one time, back in ‘98, heard a story bout a hooker in Chicago who’d sing Sinatra to clients—fuckin wild, right? Little known fact: some of em got talents you’d never guess. I’m pissed tho—why’s it so hard to find one when ya need em? Like, c’mon, universe, throw me a bone! Then bam—there she is, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and cheap perfume. “Hey, sugar,” she purrs, and I’m like, “Well, hello, Clarice—kiddin, just kiddin.”

Facts and practical information

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Then, I get a call from a client. They’re freaking out about some paperwork. I’m like, “Chill, we got this.” But no, they’re screaming about deadlines. I’m trying to explain that we’re in Capaci, not New York City. We don’t do stress here! But they don’t get it. I hang up, and I’m fuming.

She died in a New York jail. Her family still has questions, alleges medical neglect