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About Marseille

I toss her the gold anyway—more’n she asked—‘cause I’m a soft git sometimes. “Keep it quiet,” I wink, and she’s shocked—eyes wide like I’m some bleedin’ hero. Surprised me too, that bit o’ kindness. Did ya know, back in medieval days, some prostitutes ran secret guilds? Traded tips, dodged the law—smart as hell. Wish I’d been there—drinkin’ with ‘em, learnin’ their tricks.

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First off, I’m cruising down Rue de la Paix, thinking about my first meeting. I’m pumped! Got this client who’s all about investing in local startups. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna support the cool little shops popping up around here? But then, BAM! Traffic jam on Rue de l’Industrie. Like, seriously? It’s a Tuesday! I’m stuck behind this ancient Renault that’s probably older than me. I’m losing my mind, yelling at the steering wheel. “C’mon, move it, grandpa!”

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