Esme Old Harbour Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Montego Bay

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

Old Reykjavik Harbor: Must-Visit Attractions

After that, I finally get to work. We’re diggin’ up some old pavement on Fisherman’s Wharf. You know, the place where all the fish markets are? Smells like a seafood feast. But man, the pavement is tougher than my grandma’s meatloaf. I’m diggin’ and diggin’, and I’m gettin’ mad. Like, why can’t this just be easy?

Man fatally shot by cops in Old Harbour still unidentified