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About Genoa

Still, it’s dicey. Diseases, creeps, cops—ugh, makes me mad! Why’s society gotta push folks there? If we taxed the rich, gave jobs, maybe less’d hafta hustle like that. “The system’s broken!” I’d scream, shakin’ my fist. Royal Tenenbaum’d prob’ly say, “I’ve had a rough year, kid—gimme a break and a dame!” Typical.

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So, I roll outta bed, right? It’s like 7 AM, and I’m already late for my first meeting. Typical broker life, ya know? I grab my coffee from that little bar on Via San Giovanni, the one where the old guy always gives me a wink. He knows I’m a regular. I’m chugging that bitter goodness, and boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my client, Marco. He’s freaking out about some property on Via Nazionale. Apparently, someone else is eyeing it too. Great. Just what I need.

Foiled Theft in Abandoned School