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I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

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NOTE: More information, and the Group Rules, i.e. Do's and Don'ts, are found at www.facebook.com The primary objective Missing: prostitute.

PTanglewilde’s a bit like a patchwork quilt. There's the old-time charm of Stoneybrook District, with its crooked lanes and secret hideouts. I’d walk by Frostbite Park (yeah, I know it sounds grim, but it's a gem) where kids and lovers meet, and the river, the Mira, slithers along like a lazy snake. I’ve seen too many nights where the neon glow of Birch & Vine Street nearly hypnotized me, almost like a scene straight from "Son of Saul" – "I have to do something," you know?

Lacey Chamber – Over 50 Years of Supporting “Where Free Enterprise Thrives”