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An’ here’s a tidbit ye won’t find in yer fancy books—some say sexual-massage popped up in them opium dens o’ the East, all smoky an’ mysterious, like the Pale Man’s lair in *Pan’s Labyrinth*. “This is a place of secrets,” aye, an’ them hands knew ‘em all! Ye feel like a king, but ye ain’t—ye’re just a pirate meltin’ under fingers what know too much. Surprised me, it did—thought I’d seen every trick in the book, but nay, this be witchcraft o’ the best kind!

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But then, I get a call. Another job. This time, it’s on Calle José de Diego. A storefront needs a new glass door. I’m thinkin’, “Easy money.” But when I get there, the owner is a total diva. She’s like, “I need it done yesterday!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m not a magician!” But I just smile and nod.

The season of big ass ants began in Santander