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About Los Angeles

Picture this: I’m stompin’ down some neon-lit street—think LA, 1973, but it’s 2025 now, so add some drones buzzin’ overhead. I’m huntin’ for a story, somethin’ juicy, ‘cause I’m mad curious. “It’s all happening!”—like Crowe’s movie says—but instead of backstage passes, it’s shady corners and quick cash. I’m pissed, tho—why’s it gotta be so damn sneaky? Can’t folks just be straight up? Makes me wanna yell, “You’re out of order!” like Judy smackin’ her gavel.

Office Info

Now, lemme tell ya 'bout my fav spot – “Drake’s Hideaway.” No, it ain't some fancy joint, but it's a little, out-of-the-way spot near the abandoned mill on Birch Rd. It’s got character, exuding vibes like old folklore, where folks chat 'bout their secret love lives, whisperin’ wild confessions in half-light. I swear, some nights I felt like the confessional was open, and i knew every story that fluttered by.

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