Ivy told King that when she first met Bruno, he was charming and made all kinds of promises to get her out of the whorehouse she was in, promising to take her back to America, marry her, and make her a proper lady; but like all men she’d slept with, he left, and she was stuck with his seed. When King was born, her mother wanted to name her something special, so King fit perfectly. It was a way of letting her know that she came from royalty as the child of Bruno, who her mother once believed was her king.
King and her mother were kicked out of the whorehouse to fend for themselves. King grew up on the hardcore streets of La Carpio, one of Costa Rica’s dangerous ghettos, where there was crime, drugs, and prostitution everywhere. Ivy got a small apartment in the area. To support herself and King, she became the one thing she knew how to be: a whore, once again. Ivy soon became addicted to cocaine.
King hated the way her father played her mother like a doll and threw her away. She made a promise to herself to not end up like her mother and to get revenge on the Bello Family, who she knew would never claim her.
Through her youthful years, without any proper education, she taught herself to read, learn about art, different cultures, and fashion. She began her life of crime by seducing men, just as her mother had done. She learned the art of killing from one of her mother’s clients, and she looked to seduce some of the wealthiest men in Costa Rica by robbing them blind and sending them to meet their maker. The art of smuggling came from a drug powerhouse in her neighborhood. First, at the young age of fourteen, she smuggled drugs from Costa Rica to Miami with success, but the drug thing wasn’t for her. She wanted to smuggle things with extreme value, and that’s when she learned the art of stealing jewelry. At the age of sixteen, King was the diva of the crime, commanding over a hundred soldiers who would lie, kill, and steal for her.
King was tried seven times in places as varied as Costa Rica, Miami, Germany, and Korea for stealing, smuggling, and possibly assassinating many political leaders. Seven juries saw her beautiful face, but with her sweet, well-cultured voice and her enchanting smile, no one believed she could’ve done it. The evidence always seemed to just disappear.
Now, at twenty-one, she was loved and feared by many in Costa Rica as a boss. She owned one the most beautiful properties that she shared with her now sober mother. All she wanted was to get revenge against her father, who had left her and her mother in poverty while he lived a life of luxury in America. The only way to do that was to team up with Paco and get a taste of the drug world. Once she got rid of her father and the Bello Family, she would be the number one kingpin.
Swag knew she was a dangerous chick, and he could see how someone so beautiful could be so deadly. He remembered from the documentary that she was well known for her many sexual vices. King was openly bisexual and said that “The one type of person I love to have sex with is transgender, because you get the best of both worlds.” Swag knew he had to stay in her good graces. She was not the one to be messed with.
“King? What kind of name is that for a chick?” Travis shouted. He was slightly tipsy from the wine.
Everyone, including his boys, glared at him like he had just lost his mind.
“You a chick. You supposed to be a queen.” Travis laughed.
Man, would this dude just please shut the hell up? thought Swag, who was no longer calling the shots. This dude doesn’t know who he fucking wit’. This chick is a monster.
King looked at him like a lioness hunting for her prey. She got off of Paco’s lap and went over to Travis. She leaned forward to kiss his bottom lip. He could feel his dick rising and seriously thought she was interested in him. She licked his cheek, and then her lips traveled to his left earlobe. She sucked on it for a second, but then she chomped down hard on it with her teeth.
Travis screamed like a bitch. “Ahhhhhh! Shit, shit, shit!”
King bit off a small piece of his earlobe, spitting it out on the floor. As blood rushed from Travis’ earlobe, he held it with his hand in tears.
“Only a king can do that,” she said, reaching for a napkin to wipe her bloody mouth. As she walked away, she put her long, manicured black fingernail in her mouth, licking more blood before returning to Paco’s lap. The smile returned on her face as everyone stared in silence.
The other thing that Swag remembered from the documentary was that, for some sick reason, she loved to lick the blood of her many victims and enemies.
Travis looked at her, still holding his wounded ear. She kept smiling at him, admiring her handiwork. Paco and his men began to laugh at Travis.
“You punk little pussy,” Paco said. “How can you let a female punk you like that?”
Travis was embarrassed, and he wanted to get her back, but he ventured in the wrong direction. “You bitch!”
He got up, but almost immediately, he noticed that something didn’t feel right with his right hand. He looked, seeing that his right pinky finger was gone and his hand was bleeding profusely. He glared at King, but now she had his pinky finger in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other.
“Looking for this?” she said, taking his pinky finger and stirring it in her glass of wine. She removed the finger then licked the tip.
“Damn, Paco,” Midnight said. “This woman is a straight up beast—and a G for real.”
Paco laughed. “I know. That’s why I wanted to do business with her. You always want someone this coldhearted and ruthless on your team.”
“Fuck that, Paco! That bitch got my pinky finger!” Travis tried to charge at her, only to be stopped and have guns pointed at him by her team of security, which was made up of numerous topless women, who pointed everything at him from a nine millimeter magnum to a machine gun.
Oh, shit. I’m fucked, thought Travis, who could have been meeting his maker sooner than later.
Swag and Tyler rushed up to pull him back to chair.
“Be cool, man,” Swag said.
Guns were still pointed at Travis, and he figured they would blast him in a second.
Swag went over to King, got on his knees, and held her hand. “King, please don’t kill my friend. He’s drunk and stupid. He don’t know any better. If you spare his life, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”
King smiled at Swag. She admired his courage. She would usually cut out an eyeball and eat it, but something about him just mesmerized her. “All right.” She raised her hand, and everyone lowered their guns. Swag took a deep breath.
“Thank you, King. I promise he will be no trouble.”
Swag got up, heading to his seat. He watched as Tyler wrapped his brother’s hand with a napkin.
King stood with her wineglass, throwing the pinky finger aside. “Let that be a lesson to you all. I am a king, not a queen, and if any of you fuck me over, you will be sleeping with the fishes or worse.”
They all nodded at their new leader as she proposed a toast. “To a new future of making money, being rich, and bringing down the Bello Family and Hernandez Cartel so that we can be on top of the food chain. To a new future!”
“To a new future!” all the guys said—even Travis, who didn’t want to lose any more fingers.
Swag looked around for a moment. He still couldn’t believe how elegant the ship was, but deep down, he felt as if it were leading him straight to hell. He had finally gotten his wakeup call, and he wished he could turn back the hands of time. He wished he had never gotten involved with Armand. Now he could only dream of being back in St. Louis, smoking a blunt or two with his boys. He stared at the food on his plate in a daze, and for the first time in a long time, he prayed.
Lord, protect me and my boys, including my cousin Brad. I hope he’s okay. And Lord, I ask for one more request. If you can, one day, I would love to see my sons again. I love them, and I need you to protect me on this unfortunate journey, just so I can get back to them. Amen.
Swag looked up and saw King undressing him with her lustful eyes. She was known for getting wherever she wanted, even if it was him. Swag put
on a fake smile, trying to stay in her good favor.
And, Lord, please give me strength.
Chapter 25
The Awakening of a Boss Bitch
The next evening, Milena decided to invite Taylor over for a girls’ night in. They were having dinner at her luxury penthouse apartment, a seventeenth birthday gift from her father. The penthouse had an amazing view of downtown Rio. The décor was modern, with all-white furniture. It was nothing but the best for this Brazilian model, part-time actress, semi-escort, socialite, and heiress to the Diaz boxing empire.
More than anything, Milena wanted to be a supermodel like Taylor was back in the ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s. Taylor, her mentor, told her that the fashion industry had changed and the word supermodel was dead. According to her, now it was a package deal. Taylor told her you had to be a model, video girl, actress, dancer, singer, and even a reality TV star.
Milena worked as a highly paid showgirl in the Brazilian show Queen. Her modeling career wasn’t going anywhere, and she was pissed off that she wasn’t landing campaigns for Marc Jacobs or Calvin Klein. She was always being beaten out by many American actresses or French models. Her biggest heartbreaker was when she was the runner up to be the face of Versace. After many call backs, test shots, and semi-runway shows, she was beaten by Kitana. Milena always felt as if Kitana had the entertainment game on lock, from the fashion world to TV and the movie screen. Milena’s main focus was to be in the movies, and with the help of the money she was getting from the show, her admirers, and her father, she would take high-end acting lessons with the world’s best acting coaches, until she got her big break.
Milena decided to put life aside and have Taylor over for dinner after the big release party for the Brazilian Kouture December release for its first male issue. Milena knew that something was not right with Taylor lately. She wasn’t the usual bad bitch she had first kicked it with. She decided to fix her dinner, with all of Taylor’s favorites: risotto barolo with roasted vegetables, spiced lamb shanks with blood orange relish and lobster salad in potato leek nests.
Taylor was in the living room, sitting on the sofa, looking semi-fab in a white tank top, black dress pants, black flats, and very little make up that showed signs of her real age mixed with stress. She was gazing at the fireplace, drowning her sorrows in Moët. Her mind was not focused on the magazine. After the Brazilian Kouture release party, she had just let the whole magazine get out of control. She was canceling meetings with big advertisers, failing to make guest appearances at other fashion vendors, and leaving work early to go to a hotel suite to drink her sorrows away with her new friends, vodka and Jack Daniel’s.
Ramon was so tired of carrying the load of the magazine on his own shoulders that he had decided, of his own free will, to take a vacation to New York. Taylor knew that he was going there to meet her man-whore of a husband, who claimed he was going on a business trip that she referred to as “booty-hole business.” Taylor just let the magazine go to hell. Hell, it wasn’t even her magazine; it was Armand’s, and she didn’t care if it went bankrupt.
Taylor spent her days thinking of Desmond and the way he totally disrespected her at the magazine’s male issue release party. She was also hating on the photo of Desmond and Kitana that Ramon had picked for the cover. Taylor didn’t want that media whore in her magazine. The entire time at the release party, all media from MTV to CNN kept asking if they were dating or engaged. Desmond was even getting new endorsements and more movie deals. He didn’t acknowledge Taylor at all. He told her that she had less than ten days to make a decision, and the clock was ticking.
Milena went over to Taylor. She was tired of seeing her best friend/mentor drink her life away for a man. She was sick of her not being with a man that she truly loved with all of her heart. Milena took the glass and wine bottle out of her hand.
“Hey, Milena, what are you doing with my medication?” Taylor slurred her words.
Milena looked at the half glass of wine and the bottle, throwing them both across the hallway.
“Hey!” Taylor yelled. “What are you doing, doll? I . . . ” Taylor stood up but stumbled backward and fell on the couch.
“Taylor, I’ve been quiet for weeks, and I can’t keep quiet anymore. What you are doing is so wrong. I should have stopped you the night of the release party, when you saw my brother hugged up with that hooker in front of the media.”
Taylor remembered that night completely. Desmond was hugged up with that trick Kitana, and she loved every bit of it. After seeing how happy they seemed, Taylor went up to her office, allowing that jerk Ramon to take over for the evening while she drank two bottles of whiskey and one bottle of scotch. That was something she hadn’t done since her days on the runway. That’s where Milena found her passed out. Milena should have said something then, but tonight was as good a time as any.
“Chica, look at yourself. You’re turning yourself into a lush, and for what? A man? What happened to you? I used to look up to you. Hell, I wanted to be like you, a true bad bitch with smarts, the clothes, the money, and the men. You let my brother’s demands affect your better judgment. If you want to leave Armand to be with my brother, then so be it. You have more power than he ever will. You are the princess of a very powerful crime family, remember. Bring back the hustler/vengeful chick I liked from day one.”
Taylor was so shocked that Milena said that. After Armand’s glory coming to an end went bust, then Desmond’s ultimatum, Kitana, and the release party, Taylor had really lost her bad bitch side. She turned around for a moment, only to see a reflection of herself. What she saw was not the supermodel who had a killer’s instinct, dressed to kill with a deceitful heart, but an old woman who was washed up, drinking her life away and dressed for her own funeral.
“Oh my God.” She sat back on the couch and busted out crying. “Milena, oh my God, doll, have I really gotten that bad?” She covered her face. Milena sat beside her and rubbed her back.
“I’m so ugly,” Taylor cried while leaning on Milena’s shoulder.
“Shh, no, that isn’t true. You’re beautiful. You just need to get your shit together and don’t ever let a man bring you down. Not even my brother. You hear me? You’re too bad of a bitch to be going through this shit.”
Taylor looked into Milena’s eyes and hugged her. Milena hugged her back.
“You are truly a loyal friend, Milena. I mean it, and it’s not the Moët talking either. Other chicks would’ve just let me drink myself into an insane asylum, but not you. You are one of the most loyal chicas ever, and I’m glad you’re my best friend.” Taylor kissed Milena on the cheek. “Thank you. And I won’t let any man ever, ever bring me this down again.”
“That’s my girl,” Milena said.
They smiled. “Just one thing, doll.”
“Yes, sis,” Milena said.
“What is my next move into reclaiming my bad bitch status?”
Both ladies laughed.
“First off, get out of your grandma’s clothes. Secondly, put on some makeup, and lastly, claim your man, girl.”
Taylor nodded. “You’re right. What in the hell was I thinking, wearing this? And lastly, my Desmond. There is no way in hell I’m losing my man to that media whore, Kitana. She may look pretty, but there is no way in hell I’m going to let another woman dig her claws into him. As for Armand, I have some connections I need to get in contact with about his reckless behavior. But first, let’s eat.”
When evening set in, the ladies ate like pigs. Milena did Taylor’s makeup, and she converted to the boss she really was. For the rest of the evening, the ladies looked at TV and ate candy bars.
As they were watching TV, the news popped on with a breaking story about a massacre at the Bangu Penitentiary Complex that left many prisoners dead and a few missing. They flashed the missing prisoners’ faces on the screen. This caught Milena’s eyes.
“Chica, those are the Americans who were working with Armand and made the bust a flop.”
/> “So?” Taylor said, rolling her eyes.
A mug shot of Brad Carter flashed on the screen.
“Taylor, that was the American who had a thing for Diamond and ignored the other girls. I can only wonder if she is into something with him.”
“Doll, please. You watch too many romance movies. I don’t think that American is stupid enough to chase one of Armand’s li’l whores. He’d better be trying to figure out how to get the hell out of Rio before he’s killed.”
“I agree, but that girl isn’t as bad as you think. She looked so lost and scared, as if she was with Armand against her will. When I saw her and that American together, she looked happy. I just have a feeling about them.”
While listening to Milena, Taylor smiled and came up with her next scam. “You know what, Milena? I think we should pay this little girl a visit tomorrow, but first we are going to the mall to get me a brand new wardrobe.”
Both of the ladies laughed, but all Taylor could think was, Good-bye, Armand, the magazine, and Brazil. Hello, Desmond and my new life in America. The boss bitch is back.
Chapter 26
The Proposal
During most of the day, Brad stayed in the penthouse, watching his back while Diamond worked at the bakery. If Diamond hadn’t shown up for work, people would have been suspicious and called Armand to return. They didn’t want that to happen before they came up with the perfect plan to get out of there.
Before Diamond left, she had given Brad some of Armand’s clothes. Brad took a bath to clean the filth and blood from his body that still lingered from being in prison. He came out of the shower, smelling like raspberry crème, wearing a white Polo shirt, which was a little tight on him, and khaki shorts that fit him okay. He spent most of the day sitting on the sofa with his clean bare feet up on the coffee table, eating veggies and fruit. Being his size, what he really wanted was a triple bacon cheeseburger with a large order of fries and a jumbo chocolate shake from Steak’n Shake back home. He even looked at TV, CNN in particular, where he noticed that what happened at the prison had made international news.
Beating the Odds Page 15
