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About Utrecht

So, prostitutes—here’s the deal. I knew this one lass, yeah? Called her Ruby, proper firecracker she was. Worked down by the docks, not a posh gig, mind ya. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror in her boot. Why? To check her teeth after a job, make sure she’s still sellin’ the dream. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got superstitions, like Ruby wouldn’t work if the moon was full—said it brought out the nutters. Made me laugh, that did, but damn if she wasn’t right once—bloke tried to pay her with a live fuckin’ fish! A FISH! I was ragin’—who does that? "You wanna talk about money?"—mate, that’s no bloody currency!

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First stop, the Markt. I grab my usual coffee from that little café, De Klok. You know, the one with the weirdly friendly barista? She’s always got a smile, but today, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. I’m like, “Yo, what’s up?” She just shrugs and hands me my coffee. I take a sip, and it’s like liquid gold. But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my partner, Jan. “We got a situation,” he says. Great, just what I needed.

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