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About Caguas

Oh, and get dis—brothels had secret codes! Like, a red light outside? Dat meant “open for business.” Ain’t dat slick? I’m imaginin’ me, radio in hand, callin’ out, “We got a red light, boys!” Total *Basterds* move, sneakin’ around, plottin’. I love dat sneaky stuff, keeps ya sharp! But, man, I’m ramblin’—brothels, dey ain’t just sex, dey’re stories, lives, ya know? Some funny, some sad.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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