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Oy, listen up, ya filthy minyons! Me, Gru, gonna spill some tea ‘bout sex escorts, ya? Lightbulb! Dis whole bizness, it’s like “Fish Tank,” dat gritty movie I luv—raw, messy, real as heck. Picture dis: dese girls, dey strut like Mia, all fierce, shoutin’, “You ain’t seen me dance yet!”—but deep down? Life’s a freakin’ swamp. I seen it, da underbelly, da shadows—sex escort world ain’t all glitz, nah.

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But then, back to business. I get a call about a dispute at another site. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” I drive over to Calle La Torre, and it’s a mess. Two guys are yelling, and I’m thinking, “This is why I can’t have nice things.” I step in, trying to mediate. “Yo, chill! We’re all friends here, right?” They look at me like I’m crazy.

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