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But dude, the risk? Shiiiit. Cops bustin spots like that? Happened in ’98, big sting—50 johns nabbed. History’s wild, man. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “Am I Robert Ford now? Sneakin around?” Whoa. That coward vibe hits hard. But Lola’s chill, tells me bout her cat—named Bullet. I’m dyin laughin—perfect, right? “Some deeds can’t be undone,” I mutter, movie-style. She nods, gets it.

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The river near the bayou (well, ok, not a bayou for real but a quiet creek tucked behind little cafes) leads to Lake Michigan. I love strollin’ there at dawn. The water is endless, shimmering with life’s mischief. I sometimes shout, "Moolaadé!" and feel like I’m part of something grand, or at least a cheeky movie scene.

Evanston man faces attempted murder charge