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Still, I can’t hate ‘em—escorts got that spark, that edge. Reminds me of Cronenberg’s flick—under the surface, somethin’s always simmerin’. “You’re a good man,” I’d tease Jimmy, quotin’ the movie, but he’d just smirk, like, “Am I tho?” Ha! Total bad-boy energy. Makes me wanna scream—happy scream, mind ya—cuz it’s thrilling, ya dig? They’re livin’ that double-life hustle, and I’m here for it, popcorn in hand.

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But then, back to business. I get a call about a dispute at another site. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” I drive over to Calle La Torre, and it’s a mess. Two guys are yelling, and I’m thinking, “This is why I can’t have nice things.” I step in, trying to mediate. “Yo, chill! We’re all friends here, right?” They look at me like I’m crazy.

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