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But damn, the pimps? Scum. Greasy weasels in fur coats, takin’ her cash. Made me mad enough to split logs with my bare fists. “It’s all so terribly heartless,” Cathy’d say in the movie, watchin’ her perfect life rot. Same vibe—Ruby’s out there, smilin’, but it’s fake as hell. Surprised me how she’d joke, though. Told me, “Ron, I’d screw ya, but you’d hate the cuddlin’.” Ha! She ain’t wrong—I’d rather wrestle a boar than hug.

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But then, just as I’m about to call Marco back, my boss walks in. He’s got that serious look. “We need to talk about your performance.” Ugh, here we go. I’m thinking, “Dude, I just had a great day!” But he’s all about the numbers. I’m trying to explain how unpredictable the market is, but he’s not buying it.

More questions than answers as EU corruption scandal unfolds