Trouble Under Venus

by Autumn Piper

  Have me detained! Hmph. Whatever happened tonight on the boat, I needed to make sure there was no way The Big could go off without my presence.

  Dear Randi,

  Wow, what a day! I’m supposed to be showering and dressing in this slinky little dress from this interesting store my dad took me to today. I guess it’s Delicia’s favorite place to shop, which means there are tons of very hoochie items everywhere you look. My dress is one of their more conservative garments. But Dad explained to me that this isn’t just any old boat we’re going on tonight, it’s a YACHT. Yep, that’s right. Me, Randi, on a yacht, elbowing—or is it rubbing elbows with?—Miami’s rich and dodgy underworld.

  He insisted on paying for the dress since I’m helping his cause with Rico. Does he really think so, or does he feel guilty because he knows Rico probably hates me and wants me extinguished? He was a bit miffed when I snuck off and paid for our lunch, but I felt bad. He’s been staying with his mom to save money; he doesn’t need to buy me clothes and take me out to eat too. He needs all the money he can get his hands on, for his patent.

  I sincerely hope Mitchell’s eyes bug out of his head when he sees my cleavage in this dress. Back cleavage as well as front. Who knew clubwear was so risque back in 1980? I look pretty hot, if I do say so myself. Very Miami Vice, all black and spangly, especially with these tall spike heeled sandals…

  Yup, I feel sexy.

  Man, what I wouldn’t give for my camera phone right now. I know I’ll never look this good again. It’s like when you’ve got the best hair of the week going on, immediately before heading to bed. Alone. Sigh. All won’t be lost, because at least Mitch will see me like this and hopefully want me again.

  So long,

  Randi the Ravishing

  Chapter 23

  At one stoplight on the way to the boat, Dennis caught Mitch ogling my thigh, left shockingly bare as my dress rode high while astride Dennis’s bike. When the light turned green, Dad jabbed his index finger forward, indicating Mitch could travel ahead of us.

  Once we’d parked and I’d spent as much time fluffing my hair as the men would allow, I tugged the shrug borrowed from one of Grandma’s dance outfits around my shoulders, hoping to disguise how cold I was by covering my nipples. Somehow, the leather jacket hadn’t seemed like a good match for this evening. I sure missed its warmth, though.

  A breeze blew off the water lapping at the docks. Hoping to distract myself from the chill, I toddled along on my treacherously high heels, concentrating on my two guys. Mitch had outdone himself by wearing a new pair of quite tight black slacks and a silky red shirt with large lapels. With his new layer of tan and a fresh inky dye job on his hair, he probably appeared Cuban to those who didn’t know him. Dennis had on tight white jeans and a plain white t-shirt, layered with a flashy silver suit jacket. And penny loafers, the original red kind. Despite how silly the ensemble sounded by twenty-first century standards, he pulled off the look, managing to be striking and suave at the same time. He’d even shaved for the occasion, something I’d noticed he didn’t do with great regularity.

  Our ‘boat’ rocked gently ahead, glowing, festive with what seemed like hundreds of small lights and soft mariachi music wafting out. One couple boarded, while several others chatted and laughed on the bow, all with cocktails in hand.

  With help from Dennis, I navigated the final set of steps down the dock. Mitch waited for us at the bottom, where he caught another glare from Pop for gawking at the area around the hem of my dress.

  Before we boarded, Dennis whispered in my ear, “Try not to talk so weird tonight, huh?” Whether it was from the cold, the tickly whisper, or his hand resting on my hip as he acted the part of possessive boyfriend, I shivered. Or maybe it was the scowl Mitch shot my way.

  A combination butler, deckhand, and waiter met us at the door. In no time at all, he’d announced us to the crowd, handed us each a drink from his tray and whisked away my wrap, leaving me quite embarrassingly nipply. No matter. Even if I hadn’t been cold, they’d have been stiff after Mitch’s eyes met mine.

  One of the females from Conga dragged Mitch inside toward the music, interrupting our mental make-out session.

  “Good,” Dennis muttered beside me. Taking a long swallow from his drink, he curled his lip in Mitch’s direction. “Should’ve never told that douche-bag you weren’t my girlfriend.”

  “Maybe he’s not as bad as you think. I mean, maybe he ended up someplace he shouldn’t be…like you?”

  “Don’t get any stupid ideas about tryin’ to reform him. He’s trouble. Period.” He let out a tired sigh and put on what appeared to be a fake smile. “C’mon. Let’s mingle and pretend you’re my woman.”

  We made our way closer to the dance floor. Mitch and the scantily-clad woman danced, but he seemed unwilling to touch her more than necessary. That was a relief.

  Clusters of people wandered past us, most of whom Dennis introduced us to, none of whose names I could remember once the next group approached. When it seemed the little room could hold no more people, the band stopped. A singer made an announcement in Spanish, from which I gleaned we would be leaving the port momentarily. Without further ado, the music resumed, as did the dancing. Mitch had a new partner, who he twirled about as if he’d been salsa dancing his entire life. He looked hot and Latin, smooth and dangerous in those tight clothes. That athletic body...hooo boy. How I’d like to get my hands all over it.

  The ship lurched and everyone staggered a bit to keep their footing. Dennis’s hand went to my shoulder to help steady me. Just then, Mitch looked our way. The pause in his dance was nearly undetectable, but a complete change in his demeanor followed. His friendly smile faded and his mouth set in a grim, determined line. Dance steps which before had been synchronized, nearly professional, became nothing short of provocative. When he pulled his partner—Hey! Was that Delicia?—to his body and held her there as they gyrated, my breath caught. Sweet God, what I wouldn’t do to be in that chick’s shoes! The defiant look he shot in our direction gave me a sick feeling, though. Then his partner pressed her back against his front and there was no missing his hands rubbing up her stomach, then cupping her hips as they moved. What the hell was he doing, and what had I done to deserve it? And that woman! The same floozy who’d possibly destroyed my parents’ marriage, was out there all but having vertical sex with my—Mitch. Well, I didn’t have to watch.

  “I’m…going to the bathroom,” I told Dennis. I set my newly emptied glass on the brass rail behind us and headed down the hall where I’d seen women disappearing.

  The females had taken over one of the yacht’s suites. Several ladies lounged on sofas, others sat on stools before a long mirror, repairing their makeup. I really wanted to be alone with my temper, but when approached by a woman wearing a dress identical to my own though gold in color, mustered a smile. Great. What were the odds?

  She was probably the most beautiful Latina I’d ever seen. “Hello,” she said with a warm smile. “You have a lovely dress.”

  “Thank you.” Now my smile was genuine. At least I knew the dress was appropriate for the occasion. “And you have excellent taste.”

  We giggled together for a moment. “I am Pilar, your hostess. My husband is Armando. You know him, no?”

  I shook my head, though I’d heard his name earlier. “Hi. I’m Drew. My, ah, boyfriend works for Rico.”

  Her smile cooled momentarily, but she quickly regained her composure. “Oh. Business. Always business with men, no? I grow so tired of money talk. Money and politics. Is there anything else for them?”

  “Sex.” Like, in the middle of a dance floor, with a virtual stranger, while the woman who loved you watched. Shit. I couldn’t love him. Look what a player he was, and this after teasing me and leading me on for how long?

  “Ah, sex. Sí, that is the first and most important subject,” she agreed. “Come, we need a drink.” With her hand firm on my wrist, I had no choice but to follow her to the main room. She l
ed me to the kitchen, filled with bustling waiters, where she pulled an open bottle of champagne from a fridge. While filling two flutes, she said, “Only the best for new friends, who understand men.” Tapping her glass to mine, she said, “To being sympática.”

  “To being sympática.” The champagne was dry, and judging by the label I’d seen on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, pricey.

  Pilar drank hers quickly, then refilled our flutes. “Come, amiga. We find our men and make them speak of other things. And if they do this for us, then later we let them speak of the most important subject, hey?”

  “My wife has found a twin.” Armando smiled as we approached. Pilar had only begun introducing us when Dennis sidled up beside me. Not far behind him came a certain figure in a red shirt who I chose to ignore. “Señorita,” Armando said with a bow of his head and a kiss to the back of my hand. “Welcome, to our home...” He pronounced the ‘h’ in the manner most Hispanics pronounce their ‘j’, “…away from home. Please, tell me how I can make your visit enjoyable?”

  “Drew would like to have an evening without talk of business, as would I,” Pilar announced.

  This earned me a brows-down from Dennis and a squinty glare from He Who I Did Not See.

  Armando only laughed. “Women. They want all this,” he said, swooping his hands around, “but they don’t want to be bothered with business.” He shook his head. “Join me, gentlemen, where we can talk, ah…of the future. Undisturbed. To the poker room?”

  Keen and Miguel nodded and went along with Armando, while Pilar did nothing short of pout, her dark eyes growing glossy with tears.

  “Why don’t we join them?” I suggested.

  “I do not know poker.” Her arms crossed under her breasts reminded me how much cleavage we were showing. “Maybe we dance.”

  I shook my head. “Would you like to learn how to play?”

  “You know how?” She eyed me with a mixture of suspicion and awe.

  “Sure. Where I come from, women play poker all the time. Find us some cards and a quiet room.”

  An hour later, Pilar and I emerged from the master suite, ready to put our card-playing talents to use with other players. Since “our men” were still closeted somewhere, she had her manservant set up a table for us in a sitting room, in sight and earshot of the dance floor. Within minutes, she’d assembled four other players, inlcuding, much to my chagrin, Tino.

  “I see you convinced Rico to let you out for some air,” I said as he took the seat next to me. “Is this a night off, or are you working?”

  “Working,” he answered. “But my job has suddenly become more pleasurable.”

  “Tch, tch!” Pilar cut him off. “No business talk!”

  Though my pupil had taken to the game quickly, and was more skilled than most of the other players, it was easy to tell Tino had more experience than she. Possibly even more than I did, though I prided myself on my ability to bluff. Poker had always been my favorite attraction in Las Vegas. As if I could walk past a sign with the enticing words “high stakes” on it! Though I’d been fortunate in having Lady Luck smile down at me on more than one occasion when I’d really been gambling far more than I should have, I still liked to believe I’d done well in part by skill.

  Pilar’s expensive champagne was going to my head by the time Armando, Keen and Miguel found us in a heated round of betting. When Armando grinned benevolently down at his wife and asked in Spanish what we were doing, she chirped, “Drew taught me Texas Hold Up.”

  “Hold ’Em.” I giggled. No matter how many times I corrected her, she said it wrong.

  “My wife has a new, interesting friend. I like this.” Our host cast an amused look at Pilar’s pile of cash. “We are off to the deck for a cigar. When we return, we play cards with women.”

  So, Armando liked me. This was good insurance I’d get to come along for The Big in only two more nights. Pleased with this turn of events, and perhaps too tipsy, I didn’t even get that acid-reflux feeling when Mitch’s dance partner from earlier—yes, that was certainly Delicia!—ran her hand from his very broad shoulder to his sexy hand and tagged along with them to the upper deck. He was an undercover Cuban mafia family member, after all. Of course he was supposed to be a playboy.

  Besides, I had an excellent-looking guy—he wasn’t quite a man yet—flirting with me. It was an evening for fun and revelry, drinking and laughing…for bluffing my ass off on a hand where my best bet was on a pair of fours.

  Uh-oh. I’d bet nearly all the money Pilar had given me, and now it was my turn again. Everyone else had folded except for Tino. I rested my chin in my palms, thinking whether to bet the rest of my cash, or fold.

  “Dru.” His mouth posed in that special pucker left by the end of my name. “I propose we raise the stakes.”

  Uh-oh. Stakes. The word echoed in my skull, rattling loose adrenaline with each bounce. Was Lady Luck along for this boat ride, or was I sailing solo?

  It was imperative I maintain my bluff, either way. After what I hoped was a suave sip of champagne, I asked, “Such as?”

  Conversation around the table had ceased as the other players waited to see if I’d be eliminated from the game.

  “If I win, you dance with me.” With a furtive glance around the table, he whispered behind his hand, “And after…a kiss.”

  With great effort, I refrained from choking. “Are you afraid of losing more money? Because you are not going to win, Tino.” My voice sounded roughly a thousand times more confident than I felt. Too bad I hadn’t brought along that lucky turtle Sudo’d sent with me; I’d need all the luck I could get to convince him to accept my plan. “So how about this… We split the pot right now. If you win, a dance. Only a dance. If I win, you dance solo.”

  “Solo?” His voice squeaked a titch. He glanced out at the dance floor. “You will not win against my hand. I should get all of this money. Still…” With a nervous glance at my somehow-steady hand, and then at the money, he cleared his throat.

  I held my breath, knowing if he didn’t accept my deal I’d be out of the game. Shot down in flames, for the first time ever.

  “I accept.”

  Whew! No matter what he had in his hand, I was still in the game. When I laid down my cards and he saw how pathetic they were, he laughed. His hand? A full house, tens and queens. He was still shaking his head when he tugged me from my chair to collect his winnings.

  “I will divide your money.” Pilar winked at me. “Go pay your debt.”

  Given ample floor space, Tino danced like the wind. He whirled me around that floor so I couldn’t be sure whether I remembered the steps he’d shown me, or I simply floated in his arms. The song was so fast we had no breath to talk, the spins so rapid I was dizzy.

  When the music ended, I could have collapsed, winded, into the nearest chair. But Tino convinced me to stay on the floor for a ballad. Exhausted, sloshed, and more than a little flattered at how much he wanted my attention, I leaned into him. With my face against his chest, I caught a glimpse of Mitch standing in a doorway as we turned. And then He With the Quite Tight Pants disappeared. Probably off to join Delicia for some necking.

  I closed my eyes and let my imagination tell me whose strong arms were holding me up, whose hard chest was under that shirt. Who had finally decided to be decent and asked me to dance. Whose large hands had moved down to cup my bottom. Mmm. That felt nice.

  Until the chest supporting me jerked away and my father’s voice once again intruded on one of my erotic fantasies.

  “Hey, Tino. You wanta go back to Conga and tell Rico his number one guy quit because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands off his girlfriend? Huh?” Keen’s eyes were about a millimeter away from Tino’s round, unblinking ones. “Get the fuck outta here and keep your hands off in the future!”

  Tino backed away without a word, slipping out of sight in the crowd.

  “You!” My dad said with a yank on my arm. “Outside.”

  He’d certainly carried the Po
ssessive Boyfriend Act a bit far. As I trailed him out and countless eyes followed us, I couldn’t help but feel irritated. Surely he could have pretended not to notice what his ‘woman’ was up to. Unless…and yes, there was ‘Miguel’, standing with a self-satisfied look on his face, watching. He’d gone and tattled to Keen after seeing me with Tino!

  Once we were alone on the back deck, Dennis paced around and then turned on me. “What the fuck? You’re the one who told Tino we’re an item, and now you’re playing grab-ass with him in front of God and everybody?”

  I opened my mouth in the hopes that a smart reply would come to me, but he had more to say.

  “I don’t know what the fuck, Cuz. You must be attracted to trouble or somethin’. ’Cause Tino’s more trouble than that schlep Miguel.”

  The schlep had just poked his head around the corner behind my father. Tattling and eavesdropping, all in mere minutes. I narrowed my eyes and said, “Tino’s much hotter, though, don’t you think?”

  Mitchell Goodman actually flipped me off before stalking away into the dark.

  “Hotter,” he muttered to himself. “Jesus Christ, Cuz. Do you know who he is?”

  Actually, I did. “Yeah, I got that in the meeting with Rico the other night.” Since he was clearly frazzled, I felt like I should try and soothe him some. “It wasn’t the way it looked. I lost a bet, in the poker game. It was just a dance.”

  “Yeah, sure. Just a dance. That’s the way it starts with those guys.” He practically ground his eyes out with his thumb and forefinger. When he was done, he looked down at me and lowered his voice. “I’m warnin’ ya, Drew. Chicks don’t start flings with guys like Tino, and they don’t end them either. They disappear when their usefulness is over.”

  “Okay.” Best to agree with him, especially since I had no intention of starting a fling with the guy in question. “Point taken. I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

  He nodded, then crinkled his eyes as if confused. “Guess you’re a big girl and I oughtta let you take care of yourself. Christ, you’re older than me. Not sure why…well, whatever.” Shaking his head, he stepped back.