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About New York City

Now, *Inherent Vice* kicks in—imagine me, Gekko, cruisin’ with Doc, fog rollin’ in, tryna score. “What’s the play, man?” I’d ask, and he’d mumble some stoned nonsense—“Chicks dig the vibe, man.” Ha! Vibe don’t pay the bills, but greed does. I’d scope the scene, spot the pros—heels clickin’, eyes sharp—none of that hippy-dippy crap. One’d sidle up, all “You lookin’ for somethin’ groovy?” and I’d hit back, “Groovy’s fine, but cash talks louder.”

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On Valentine's Day , the police finally searched Wright's home, offices, and car. They thought they'd find evidence of simple prostitution.

Great Scott, buddy! Lemme tell ya bout PWright (us) – my crazy, little slice of heaven on Earth. So, I'm a masseur here, right? And lemme tell ya, my hands have known every nook of this wild city. I’ve been living here for years, soaking in every vibe like I soak in oils on my clients' backs.

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