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Findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, doll! I’m mad as hell sometimes—guys leer, thinkin’ they own ya, ugh, grosses me out. But then, ooh, the thrill hits—spot one all sultry, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost like she’s in a damn movie. “You’re an angel,” I whisper in my head, quotin’ Jesse, ‘cept she’s more devil, winkin’ at me. I’m shook! Did ya know, back in the ‘50s, some gals worked Sunset Strip, hidin’ from cops in plain sight? Crazy, right? History’s wild.

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I sprint over, and it’s like a scene from an action movie. I grab the guy, and he’s all, “I just wanted a selfie!” Like, bro, you can’t just leap at her! I’m sweating bullets, but I toss him back to security. They handle it, but man, my adrenaline’s pumping.