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About Sapporo

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

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Company status: Active ; Role Resigned: Director. Appointed on: 2 November ; Nationality: British. Country of residence: United Kingdom.

Next item up? A vintage samurai sword. I’m pumped. I mean, who doesn’t want a piece of history? I start my spiel, and suddenly, this lady in the back yells, “That’s cursed!” I’m like, “Cursed? Lady, it’s a sword, not a haunted house!” But she’s adamant. Turns out, she’s a local historian. She goes on this wild rant about how it belonged to some famous samurai. I’m just standing there, trying not to laugh.

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