by Kiki Swinson
Meanwhile, as I was standing there, I noticed how hard these women worked. Sweat was pouring from their foreheads and I had not heard one of them complain the entire time. And through it all, I couldn’t help but think about my old housekeeper, Ophelia. She was a good woman and she was a hard worker. Never complained one day and I loved that about her. It was funny how you learned to appreciate someone after they’re gone. Boy, I was going to miss her.
Finally, after waiting for approximately ten minutes, Blanca’s boyfriend rang her cellular phone to tell her that he was outside. She pushed open the door and grabbed ahold of my hand so we could walk out together. Before I took the first step, I took a deep breath and exhaled. I wanted to tell Blanca that I was really on the run for my life, but I was afraid that if I told her I was running from one of the most dangerous drug dealers in Miami, she would have left me high and dry and told her man to get out of here before he got caught in the middle of it. I knew I was putting them both in harm’s way, but, hey, what was I going to do? I needed them. And when you needed someone so desperately, then you would resort to anything.
Blanca’s boyfriend was waiting outside, near the laundry drop-off area. He was waiting patiently for my arrival. When I approached his car, he got out and opened the door for me. “Thank you,” I said.
He was definitely your average Hispanic. To me, all Mexicans look the same; he definitely fit the bill with his height and features. He had to be every bit of five-four. Yes, he was a very short man, stocky too. But he carried his weight well, I might add.
“Señorita, where you want to go?” he asked.
“I have a few places I need to go, but right now all I need you to do is get me out of here,” I told him, and hopped in the backseat.
“Okay, I take you anywhere you want to go,” he replied.
I liked the sound of that, but he had absolutely no idea how far I needed him to go. Although I knew I wouldn’t use her boyfriend to get out of Miami, I could sure use him to get halfway where I needed to go. Blanca knew I had money and was willing to pay just to make it out of that hotel alive. Before he and I pulled off, he reached over and gave her a kiss. I kind of looked the other way to give them some privacy. And right before he got into the driver’s seat, she whispered something into his ear. He looked down at her pocket, where I believed she stashed the money I had given her, and smiled.
I knew right then she had told him that I paid her a nice piece of change, which was probably a clear indicator to him that I was about to do the same for him. I didn’t let on that I read right through their little whispers and eye movements, because to me, it was harmless.
“Ready to go?” he asked the moment he closed the door and looked into his rearview mirror.
I sighed. “I was born ready,” I told him.
At that very moment he stepped on the accelerator and bailed the hell out of the service area. I looked out the back window and Blanca was there waving us good-bye. She looked like a guardian angel to me at that point. Somebody up high had been looking out for me; maybe it was Maria.
Now her boyfriend angled the cab down the back streets, just like I had instructed him, and I remained crouched down in the seat until we hit the highway. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Pedro,” he replied.
“Thanks so much for your help, Pedro, but do you have a telephone?” I wanted to know.
“Sí, I have one,” he told me, and reached into his ashtray and handed me his cellular phone.
I grabbed the phone out of his hand and then I dug down into my bra to get the card I had written the number on. It had taken some maneuvering to get the fucking number, since I didn’t have my BlackBerry and had no idea where to find it. Maybe the cops had it. My hands shook as I fumbled with the card and the phone. Finally, with shaky hands, I dialed the numbers. I placed the phone to my ear and said a silent prayer that someone picked up. It was ringing, and with each unanswered ring, my heart sank deeper and deeper.
“C’mon…c’mon,” I wished out loud, swinging my legs back and forth nervously. Finally he picked up the line. “Hello?” he said into the receiver.
Whew! I exhaled a sigh of relief and cleared my throat. I was never so happy to hear a man’s voice in my life; his words sounded like sweet music to my ears.
“Hi, Lance, it’s Yoshi,” I said, my voice cracking despite my efforts to sound sexy.
“Damn, I thought I’d never hear from you, Ms. Big Shot.…What’s good, ma?” Lance exclaimed at hearing my voice. I’d spoken to him only a few times since our little trip, and, truthfully, I expected him to curse me out and hang up, but he didn’t. He was still a perfect gentleman.
“Listen, I need you to meet me at the piers. Remember you said if I ever needed you, I could call on you? Well, I need you right now.” I huffed out my words, closing my eyes and waiting for his reaction.
“Shit. I’m at the studio right now, ma…everything alright?” Lance asked, changing his tone to serious.
“No, Lance, everything is not alright. I know you’ve seen the news,” I said, growing tired of his little act.
“Hell yeah, sounded like you need a lawyer yourself. What the fuck is up with you?” he answered, not holding back.
“No, I don’t need a lawyer right now. What I need is for you to meet me at the piers. I need you like never before, Lance. It’s a matter of life and death, and this time I need you to save me,” I pleaded. I didn’t let my pride get in the way this time.
“A’ight, just for you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he agreed. He was really a fucking ride-or-die type of dude. He didn’t ask any more questions and didn’t seem to care what kind of trouble I was in. When he had told me that he would be forever grateful to me for getting him off and saving him from a life sentence, he meant it. I was glad that I’d thought to call on him. Lance Wallace—drug dealer turned platinum rapper, former client—was my only fucking hope right now.
I looked out the window at the cab’s location on the highway. Twenty minutes would be perfect, as I estimated it. Lance and I should make it to the pier at the same time. I returned the phone to Pedro, who was looking at me strangely…almost like he knew me from somewhere.
He kept looking at me through the rearview mirror until he had made me so uneasy, I had to address it.
“Is there a problemo?” I asked him, frustrated.
“No, mami,” he answered, turning his eyes back to the road. He was fucking making me uneasy, staring like he didn’t have any sense. I told him to take me to the piers and I leaned my head back on the seat and prayed that Lance would agree to help me get away.
When we pulled into the pier, it was crowded as usual. There were people boarding cruise ships and party boats, and the rich people were boarding their yachts. I scanned the crowds with my eyes, trying to see if I recognized any of Sheldon’s henchmen. They would have lots of places to hide at the crowded-ass pier. I had to be very careful, and I knew it. I wasn’t in the clear just yet. As far as I could tell, the Haitians were nowhere around, but you could never know for sure. I didn’t see anyone acting suspicious in the crowds. That was a good sign.
Maybe they were still looking for me in the streets of Miami? They were probably shocked that I wasn’t in the hotel room, since their men never saw me leave out the front. They probably had the Ritz-Carlton on lockdown right now as they searched for me, which was good. It would buy me some time.
I lay low inside the cab, waiting to see if I saw Lance. I had noticed Lance’s yacht docked and anchored in the same spot it had been the night we went on our trip.
“There…that white-and-green yacht, with the gold writing, pull up to it,” I said to Pedro.
“Green and white?” he asked, trying to understand me.
“Yes! That boat there…the green-and-white one!” I yelled. I was so nervous, my frustration was shining through.
“Okay…okay,” he replied.
“I’m sorry, I’m just in a rush,” I apologized, altho
ugh I knew he couldn’t really understand me. He finally got what I was saying and pulled up behind La La’s Love. We sat in the car for what seemed like an eternity, and then I saw Lance. Flashy and fine as ever, he bopped down the pier with all of his sex appeal. Of course Lance was flanked by his entourage and was talking and laughing very loud. I wished he would’ve come alone. I noticed him looking up and down, as if he were trying to find me.
I was so happy inside that he came at all, so I couldn’t be picky about him having people with him. It was a first step. Now I just had to convince him to help me get the fuck out of Miami, and fast.
“Thank you so much,” I said to Blanca’s boyfriend, handing him a thousand, just as I had agreed. He immediately flipped through the money and smiled at me.
“Gracias,” he returned.
I slid on my dark shades and my huge sun hat and stepped out of the cab. I walked slowly toward Lance; I knew he wouldn’t recognize me. He was laughing and talking with his homeboys when I approached them.
“It sure feels good to see you after all this time,” I said in a low whisper, touching his chest.
He looked at me strangely; it was good that he didn’t recognize me. I guess he was approached by so many women every day, his bodyguard stepped between us.
“It’s me,” I said softly as I tilted my glasses slightly away from my eyes; the only thing I couldn’t change was my eyes.
“Yo! I didn’t recognize your ass with the new look. What’s up, Yoshi?” he yelled, grabbing me for a greeting hug.
“Shhhh,” I said, instinctively placing my pointer finger over his mouth. I couldn’t take a chance on someone hearing my name. “Can we get on the boat? Can we go somewhere and talk? For a sail?” I asked, desperate to get off the streets.
“That’s not a problem, c’mon, just me and you,” he said. He could tell by my urgency that something was going on.
He signaled to his friends that we were boarding the yacht. At this point I didn’t mind having extra people around. Lance and I walked toward his yacht in silence, taking quick steps. I knew he’d have a lot of questions and I was ready to answer them.
La La’s Love seemed so inviting. I don’t know if it was because I wanted to get on that fucking yacht and sail and sail until I was at the tip of the earth, or if it was because it was the last hope I had for saving my own life. He pulled up on the lever to hoist the anchor and I climbed the steps onto the yacht first. He was right on my heels and his bodyguards right on his.
I started to feel good inside. We had made it onto the yacht and in a few minutes we’d be on the sea…free. I knew Lance owned property all over the world; I just wanted to choose a place that I could be safe.
I had made it onto the boat first; therefore, I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire pier. I squinted my eyes to make sure I was seeing correctly. I swallowed hard as I watched. I watched harder and then panic hit me again.
“Oh shit,” I screamed as the figures moved closer. I was in disbelief, but I was also sure of what I was seeing. There was a small commotion on the pier as three guys with long dreadlocks ran straight toward the yacht. I was frozen with fear and then I noticed their guns. Time seemed to stop ticking, and I grabbed onto Lance’s arm and screamed.
“Lance! Get down!” Lance had made it onto the yacht and he was confused as I screamed frantically. “Get down!” I screamed again at the top of my lungs. Lance dived onto the floor just as the shots rang out. Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat… the rapid fire of a submachine gun filtered through the air, sending everyone on the pier scrambling and screaming. The dread guys were blasting shots with no regard for the innocent bystanders around them. I saw one man fall to the ground; he was hit somewhere on his body.
The shots kept coming…tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat. From the sound you could clearly tell the gun was some kind of machine gun—maybe an Uzi. Lance grabbed onto me and ran down into the main cabin of the yacht. My heart was beating off the chain, I felt like I was having a massive heart attack. As we got our bearings, Lance noticed that one of his bodyguards was hit—the big three-hundred-pound bodyguard lay crying on the yacht’s main floor.
“Stay down!” Lance instructed me. He was panicking just as much as me now. I was sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry,” I cried.
“Yo, don’t fuckin’ worry about it. What the fuck is going on?” he asked as he revved the yacht’s engine and got the boat moving. He usually had a captain who drove his yacht, but he’d learned how to drive it himself, he had told me. It was a good thing that he had, or else we would have been sitting ducks. The shots continued, until we made it out into the middle of the ocean. “Stay here, I need to check on my boys,” Lance instructed after he put the boat into cruise control. I lay down on the floor in a fetal position and hugged myself. If anyone else was dead, it was my fault. I didn’t even want to know if Lance’s boy had gotten killed.
“You a’ight, Yoshi?” he asked, breathing hard as he returned.
“I’m so sorry for getting you involved. I thought we could get out of there before they came.” I cried as he hugged me.
“Calm down, it’s cool! Everybody is okay,” he assured me. “Now tell me what the fuck is up,” he said, looking into my face.
I leaned on Lance and told him everything. I told him about the Santanas, Sheldon, Paul, the drug use, Maria’s murder, the setup. I poured my heart out and he was a willing receptacle. Lance was concerned and he listened to me intently. I told him that I had no plan for my life and that I just needed to get out of Miami. I told him that I didn’t need his money because I had some of my own. Lance also understood when I told him why I called him, because I couldn’t take a plane, since I’d jumped bail. I cried and cried when I told Lance about how I’d left Scott to be killed after Scott had helped me.
“You ain’t have no choice. It’s not your fault,” Lance comforted. There were so many dead bodies because of me. “I got someplace you can lay up, Yoshi…. Don’t youfuckin’ worry. Those Haitians are fucking punks!” Lance spat. He had my back and it felt so good. Lance helped his injured bodyguard by placing some towels and gauze over his wound. Lucky for the guy, it was more of a graze wound than an actual shot. All of those shots and no one had gotten killed. Once again, I felt like someone was watching over me. The other guys on the yacht didn’t have much to say to me. It seemed like they were pissed that I had gotten Lance caught up in some shit—especially after Lance had survived being shot twelve times when he was a street dealer. The first night Lance and I had fucked on our last trip, I had kissed his healed gunshot wounds.
“Those fucking Haitians don’t know what they started,” Lance barked, pacing up and down the floor. He was angry and now he was involved.
“Please just let it go, Lance. It was me they were after,” I replied, trying to calm him down.
“I don’t give a fuck! You don’t roll up on me like that. This shit is not over,” he yelled. His boys were backing him up. I had started another war. It was best for everyone that I just fucking disappear. It took hours before Lance finally calmed down enough to talk. He had so many more questions for me, but the one that struck me the most was “How did you go from high-class, high-paid superstar attorney to being on the run for murder, with people out to murder you?” That was a good question, and I was not able to answer it.
Lance and I stayed up for hours talking. Neither one of us was able to sleep. After about six hours of sailing, we finally docked in the Bahamas.
“Yoshi, you stay on with the other dudes. It’s too dangerous for you to get off,” Lance instructed. He said I’d be safer on the yacht and that he’d bring back everything we needed to get where we were going, which I still didn’t know where. He went on land to get food and supplies. Although I wanted to go with him, he explained that he didn’t want me to chance coming off in the Bahamas, since it was so close to Florida. It would be the logical place for the Haitians to look for me. He was being so good to me when he really
could have told me to fuck off. When he returned to the boat, he had spared no expense. He’d purchased champagne, seafood, and caviar. I didn’t have an appetite for any of that stuff.
After leaving the Bahamas, we got settled in for the night. He told me I could take the same room I had the last time, but I refused. I asked him if I could sleep with him. I didn’t want to be alone. He welcomed me into his bed with open arms. The way he treated me started to seem unreal; I had never had anyone treat me so well. He and I cuddled in the master bedroom of the ship, and this time I made the first move. I grabbed him around his waist and hugged him into my body tight.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
I didn’t say a word. I looked up into his face and just made a half smile. I grabbed onto his shirt and pulled it up over his head, exposing his muscular chest. I kissed his chest and ran my tongue over his nipples. I moved my way down and unbuckled his pants. I wanted to taste him. I wanted him. I wanted to feel connected to something or someone. Lance had saved my life and he deserved what I was about to give him.
“You don’t have to do this, Yoshi,” he whispered.
“I want to,” I said in return, taking his dick deep into my mouth. I wet his dick with my spit and ran my mouth up and down the thick shaft. I could feel his vein pulsing up against my tongue. My pussy was soaking wet, and my body yearned for Lance to enter me. Lance moaned softly and suddenly pulled away from me. He must have been feeling just like me, ready. He grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. My legs were shaking as he gently pulled my panties off. I wanted that dick so bad, I could already feel it. He grabbed his throbbing dick and pushed it into me deep. I winced and grabbed handfuls of the skin on his neck, his back, and his shoulders. I moved my hands frantically all over his body as he drove his dick farther and farther inside me.
Lance and I fucked to a rhythm all our own as the ship went over the ocean’s waves. I climaxed first and then he did, letting every bit of his juices burst into my pussy. I didn’t even care. He had saved my life, given me a new beginning. After we were done tossing each other all around the bed, and making each other come over and over again, we lay together, our legs tangled into each other. I cried softly into the skin on his chest and he stroked my head. We didn’t speak any words, because we both knew the deal. Lance had his life and now I had what was left of mine—but for that moment we were with each other, as one.
