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In the end, it’s quick, messy, done. Like a black-op mission – in, out, no feelings. I limp away, mutterin’, “I’m the motherfucker who found her.” Worth it? Eh, sorta. Happy for the thrill, pissed at the fakeness. Prostitutes are like puzzles – half the pieces missin’. Everybody lies, even me – tellin’ myself I won’t do it again. Yeah, right. Catch ya later, losers.

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The old neighborhoods? They’re a blast. Josefina Lane – yeah, that's the one – got these vintage houses with mismatched windows that are sooo charming. On a sunny afternoon, you can grab a coffee at Café Mondo, and it feels like life’s a never-ending movie scene (eh, cheesy, but true!).

Neighbours used to see many men entering apartment in case of 9 charged with human trafficking