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About Medan

I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

First off, I hit up my usual spot for breakfast—this tiny warung on Jl. Pahlawan. Best nasi goreng in town, no cap. I’m munchin’ away, and this dude next to me starts yappin’ about some underground fight club. I’m like, “Bro, I’m just tryin’ to eat!” But he’s all hyped, sayin’ he’s got insider info. I’m thinkin’, “This could be gold for my book!” So, I grab his number, and I’m already schemin’ on how to make some cash.

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