Top Dollar.

Don't let the braces fool you.

Around here, vice doesn't hide. It doesn't have to. That's a story right there. Reforma. Montemayor. Villagrán. Platón Sanchez. Salazar. Madero—the main drag. We're just scratching the surface. We're just getting started.

There ought to be an app to keep it all straight.

The glow of neon paints the corner of a room visible from a busy street. Waiting bodies cast shadows on the wall. La quincena. Business is brisk. Pick me! Pick me. She sounds like a teen. Looks like one too. Top dollar while it lasts. Don't let the braces fool you.

The streets are legendary. Doors are slightly ajar or wide open, most flanked by a man or a woman exhorting passers-by to sample the wares inside.

That's where it started.

"Dude, dude. Just go fuck. Okay? You're not going to find love in a whorehouse. What are you thinking? Just have a good time. That's the most you're going to get. She's there for her reasons. You're there for yours. Treat her nice. Make her day. You're not as special as you think. You can't fix Mexico. You can't fix her. And you can't fix you."

"Just go fuck?"

Somebody has other ideas.

BACK.

It hurts. It costs. La máquina no da cambio. MORE.