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We talk price—quick, dirty negotiation. She’s cool, but I’m still salty bout the cash. “Ten bucks more? For real?” I grumble. She shrugs, “Take it or leave it.” YOLO, I’m in too deep now. Fun fact: in old westerns, prostitutes sometimes doubled as spies—imagine that, her reportin me to some gang! I’m laughin inside, paranoid as Jesse gettin stalked by Ford. “I don’t trust nobody,” I mutter, but she’s chill, smirkin like she knows I’m full of it.

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Norwood had beaten her, the victim called her Indiana-based foster mother for help. That same day, police located the victim at a hotel in Winthrop Harbor.

Man, I'm not even kidding—my heart beats to the rhythm of this funky town. It's messy, it's charming, it's full of life—like Tarantino's killer dialogue mashed up with Austin Powers’ mojo. And if you ever need a local tour guide with a dash of mad love for code and dating, ya know who to call, baby!

‘Wisconsin’s going to come’: Winthrop Harbor notes border location in discussing recreational cannabis regulations