He opened the door to his office, “Miquel! Get in here. Pronto.”
Miquel, a couple of years from being old enough to legally drink, was an illegal immigrant from Nicaragua. He couldn’t speak English worth a damn, but the dude could strip a car down to the horn and then put it back together in his sleep.
In his native tongue, Miguel asked, “Que pasa?” He wore dirty blue overalls and a pair of Dickie boots that leaned to the side. Underneath his fingernails were permanently black from the accumulation from the dirt oil and grime. Miquel liked them that way; in his mind, it showed he was a hard worker.
“I got six Benzs coming through in a couple of hours.” Pablo spoke fluent English but used Spanish with Miquel. “I’m going to need you to stay late tonight.”
Miquel was trying to save enough money to send back home to his four brothers and two sisters. He would stay up all night if he had to. Sleep would come once he accomplished his goals. Pablo knew this and used this to his advantage, never cutting the poor guy any slack and paying him the very bare minimum.
“Ningún problema,” Miquel said with a proud smile.
In a white two-piece linen suit and two-inch padded lifts in his loafers, Pablo looked out of place in the garage, as the Pope would in a whorehouse. However, he thought that white made him look important. Before coming to America, he never owned anything white. Now he wore white clothes, obsessed over his white teeth, and drove only white cars.
Pablo picked up a pack of Camels from his desk and after shaking two from the pack, he handed one to Miquel and placed the other into the corner of his brown lips. Miquel hated the taste of cigarettes, especially the harsh-tasting Camels that Pablo smoked, but he never told Pablo that.
“Gracias,” Miquel said before lighting up.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Gunshots rang out from automatic weapons. It sounded like microwave popcorn being popped through a megaphone. Bullets sparked holes through bodies of cars, ricocheting off the grease-stained concrete floors.
Miquel was reaching in his pocket for something when a 40 cal ripped through the chest of his overalls. The bullet exited from his back, leaving a hole the size of a fist. Miquel lay there bleeding with his Camel clinched between his teeth looking to Pablo for help, but Pablo was only worried about himself.
Pablo threw his hands in the air. “No weapon! I don’t have a weapon! Please don’t shoot.”
Pablo thanked Santa Maria when the shooting stopped. He then kissed his fingers, making the sign of the cross over his chest.
Five men had raided the chop shop in all. They were paid not to kill, but teach Pablo some manners. However, if someone happened to have gotten in the way of a bullet or tried to be a hero, that was their own fault.
T-Rex was 6’6” and built like a tank, working out every day for over ten years while doing time for robbery. T-Rex asked, “Are you Pablo?” while the other four hired guns held the shop down.
The other four men had no need for words because a smoking gun was multilingual. No one who wasn’t already dead wanted to join the unlucky.
T-Rex said, “I’m not going to ask but one mo’ time. I’m talking to you, Tattoo.” T-Rex raised the Uzi he held for emphasis. “Are you Pablo or not?”
Pablo’s mouth was as dry as a field of cotton during a heat wave; he barely choked out the words, “Yes, I . . . I am Pablo.” He knew that he was hopeless without his muscle and pissed that he had let them go home early.
“Good,” said T-Rex, speaking around the toothpick in his mouth. “I came to do you a favor.”
Pablo thought he was going to be sick. A gas bubble burst in his stomach. He farted, almost shitting his drawers. In a shaky voice, he asked, “What type of favor?”
With a straight face, T-Rex said, “The best kind. The type that if you do what the fuck you are told, maybe you will live long enough to thank me one day.”
Pablo asked, “What would I owe . . . the favor you offered me?”
“I’m pretty easy to get along with, Tattoo. All that’s required is that you discontinue all business in the state of Florida. That’s all.”
A wise man once told Pablo, “If you quit while you are ahead, it’s not considered quitting.” Back then, Pablo didn’t understand the meaning of those words, but today the meaning was loud and clear. An alive coward beats a dead tuff guy any day.
Pablo said, “I’m willing to agree to those conditions.”
13
Be Careful What You Ask
“That was the best twenty thou I ever spent,” Lolah said, referring to the money that she had paid to T-Rex and his boys.
“Thanks.”
Sticks had not only located the muscle to do the job, he totally surprised Lolah by offering to pay half the cost to do the service.
“That’s what friends do for one another,” he said.
They sat in the kitchen nook, which was backdropped by a giant bay window, eating breakfast. The view of the orange and lemon trees growing in the backyard was amazing. Sticks had cooked breakfast for the two of them. Cheese eggs with bacon, home-style potatoes, and biscuits.
Lolah asked Sticks to pass the jelly. There was a magnetic energy when their hands touched over the jar. More and more, Lolah had been feeling a certain type of way around him. He was handsome, generous, and thoughtful—qualities that were hard for a girl to ignore. As she spread the strawberry preserves on one of the biscuits, Lolah thanked him again.
Sticks’s mouth was full of food, when he asked, “What are you thanking me for now?” Then he swallowed his eggs and smiled. “Not that it matters much. I enjoy the attention of a beautiful and smart girl anytime I can get it.”
Now it was Lolah’s turn to smile. “So you think I’m beautiful, huh?”
Lolah watched Sticks blush. Over the last few months, Sticks had turned up the heat between them, acting more like her man than a protective big brother.
“Girl, you look in the mirror every damn day, at least five times or another, so if you don’t know you have it going on by now, your ass must be either blind or crazy.” Sticks’s gaze caressed her body before returning to her face. He was definitely feeling her.
Lolah enjoyed watching him pretend to beat around the bush. “That wasn’t what I asked,” she teased. “The question was, what did you think?”
“I think you are fucking with me, that’s what. And you best be careful, you might get what you looking for.” But even as he dared her, he wondered what she would think of him if she knew he was responsible for her mother’s death.
14
And Their Eyes Were Watching
Lolah was running late but looking still stunning, like she’d , just walked out of the pages of a cover of a fashion magazine as she made her way to the Prime One Twelve Restaurant. On those days, when the Miami heat wasn’t taking prisoners, she liked to go home, freshen up, and change when the sun went down. Today she didn’t have the time to make it home due to the timing of the phone call she received from Carlos saying that it was important that they met. Since she was not only famished and minutes away, she made her way to South Beach to talk business over dinner with him.
Carlos greeted her in front of the Prime One Twelve Restaurant with a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek. She tried to read his body language for a tell as to why it was so urgent that they meet. Either she was getting rusty or there wasn’t anything wrong, because Carlos looked super relaxed and jovial.
Not knowing why else he would invite her to a sit-down, she couldn’t resist jumping straight to the matter at hand. She leaned in closer to him and spoke in a tone a little above a whisper. “Is everything okay with the shipment?” She held her breath awaiting an answer. Most of her profit had gone into the upcoming shipment.
“For sure,” he assured her by way of locking eyes with her. “Everything is running smooth. Your order had already been filled, all except two cars. But no worries, my guys should be acquiring these last two now as we speak. Ever
ything will be straight by sunrise.” Carlos spoke with a chest inflated with confidence that could have easily been mistaken for arrogance “But, you know, I never disappoint.”
If Lolah had to predict the future dealings with Carlos based on his past ones, she would have to concur. “Truly you don’t, and I appreciate that.”
From the day after the night Sticks had introduced them at the club, Carlos had been coming through with the cars he promised on a weekly basis. Like clockwork, he always delivered exactly what she asked for down to the last detail or better. And in return, she always had his money, and it was never short or late, and depending on her mood, she usually dropped a tip, or incentive, to show him her appreciation for doing good business. Over the two months she had been pushing her business full-fledge, Carlos wasn’t the only person whom she brought merchandise from, but he’d turned into her go-to provider. Dependability was an underrated characteristic.
Unlike Dean, Carlos treated his word as his bond and he lived by it. Carlos was very passionate and extremely precise about his business. However, that didn’t stop him from constantly flirting with Lolah. She didn’t appreciate it but could handle it. There was no denying his passion and dedication to getting the job done. The guys on his team could pluck anything from Jettas to Jaguars, but they specialized in getting Lambos, Bentleys, Rolls, and anything else exotic she desired. Lolah still wasn’t sure how they procured their inventory with the keys always enclosed. Even sometimes going straight to the dealerships and rolling them off the showroom floors, making her being able to offer her clients any and all German engineering. She was grateful to have Carlos on her team, but more blessed that he was as loyal as he was.
If the shipment was point as scheduled, then why the impromptu meeting? she wondered. With Pablo now running for the border and out of the picture, she couldn’t possibly think of any other issues it could be. Maybe Carlos wanted more money, she thought. She had made a sweetheart deal with him and was upping his status on the playing field in a major way in the short time they’d been working together. Besides, she didn’t take Carlos to be a greedy kind of dude. However, money changed some people in a major way. Some folks get it and they turn into monsters, wanting more and more of it, making them almost impossible to deal with. Whatever the situation was, Lolah surmised, she’d deal with it accordingly. She didn’t push any further; there would be plenty of time to get to the bottom of it once they were seated.
“Nice place! Fancy,” she said as she strutted inside the restaurant. Although she’d heard about it and Sticks had been promising to bring her there, this was her first time there and she was totally impressed with the place he selected for them to dine. The restaurant was definitely a trendy and expensive place to be seen amongst the Who’s Who of Miami.
Once they were seated and all the different servers had finally done their spills and filled their glasses with water, “We’ll have a bottle of Ace of Spades,” Carlos said with confidence.
“Really. Big spender, huh?” She poured on her charm. “What’s the high spirits and celebrating all about?” she asked with enthusiasm. Carlos was filled with so much excitement it was almost contagious.
“Just everything,” he said with a big grin showing more than half his pearly whites.
Lolah hated when people spoke in such broad terms. She was the type who liked details and people to be specific, but she rolled with the punches, “Aww, like?” Lolah probed after taking a sip of her water.
Carlos’s eyes sparked with an inner glow. “Like you?” His eyes beamed. “Like this money we making. Like how quick this shit rolling in.”
The discussion of money and success always got Lolah energized and revved up. “I will damn sure toast to that.” The mood had definitely lightened. “In fact, they need to hurry up and bring us that bottle then.”
Normally she wasn’t a big drinker, an occasional sip or two here and there, but tonight was a different. She knew that truly this buzz belonged to her and she had a lot to be grateful for. She reflected on the conditions that had brought her to Miami and where she was now. She had definitely taken her busted hand and turned it into a straight flush.
While waiting for the champagne to arrive, Lolah and Carlos reminisced about their first meeting.
“Who’d have thought we’d end up here. Right?”
Not in a million years, Lolah thought, but kept it to herself. “I’m sure you thought Sticks was delusional and I was crazy,” she said.
He nodded a little. “Crazy sexy,” he added. “But I knew that you were real, because Sticks is so official. And I’m glad that I rolled the dice on you, though,” he said.
“Me too,” she said with a smile. “But, Carlos, we still have so much more to accomplish.” She took his hand and leaned into his ear. “There is so much more money to be made, you know.”
“Yes, I believe in you, your cause, and your movement. I’m going to continue to follow your lead,” he said. And that’s when the bottle arrived at the table.
The waiter filled their glasses and Carlos told her, “Raise your glass, beautiful.” She did what she was told. “Here’s to you. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and has no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get it. To money, power, respect, good health, and never needing any get-out-of-jail-free cards. But most of all, to our bond of loyalty that we continue to forge. I guess to sum it up: great friends, lots of business, and cash by the millions. Here’s to you, Ms. Lolah Escarda!”
“Aww,” she said, tickled by how genuine Carlos seemed. Lolah said, “I’ll drink to that.” And she did. Despite the bubbles, champagne went down so easy that there was no need for babysitting the rest of it. A moment later, her glass was damn near empty. The waiter earning the huge tip he would get when the night was over didn’t miss a beat refilling their glasses.
Right after dinner came and they had finished their meals, Carlos reached in his pocket and produced a small blue box, catching her totally by surprise. “For you, my lady.”
The gift caught her totally off guard. “Oh, no, I can’t,” she said, leaving him holding it in his hand.
If her hesitance to accept the box had offended him, Carlos didn’t show it. “It’s nothing serious, just a small token of my appreciation. Please open it,” he insisted with wide puppy dog eyes.
It was a mixture between the champagne and Carlos’ persistence that induced her into letting her guard down, accepting and opening the box. Inside was a diamond necklace with a small pendant of a car, which resembled a vintage Bentley. The tires were black diamonds and the steering wheel was blue topaz. The body of the car was iced out in white diamonds, so clear and big that they bounced off the lights in the restaurant. “Oh my goodness, Carlos, how gorgeous.” She was almost speechless while examining the piece. “Seriously, you really shouldn’t have!” It was beautiful, but it was also too much. She didn’t want to blur the lines.
“You deserve it. It’s for good luck. And the blue topaz will protect you from all that attempts to harm or hurt you.” The passionate glint in his eyes was sincere. “Trust me, it will protect you in the midst of all the evil or enemy that tries to attack you. I took the piece myself to be blessed, so stop overanalyzing the fact that it came from me, and put the thing on and accept your blessings properly.”
Lolah thought about what Carlos had said, and she wasn’t superstitious. She believed that people created their own luck. In her eyes, there were no magic gifts and curses, but she kept those beliefs to herself and allowed him to place the necklace around her neck.
“Thank you, Carlos. I appreciate you.” She got up and kissed him on the cheek. “I really do.” She sat down. “No words could ever express my gratitude on how you’ve never wavered when it came to me, especially with all the Pablo drama. You didn’t know me from Adam and you trusted me, and you stayed down for me.”
He interrupted her, “Well, Sticks is good peoples and he wouldn’t turn me on to no bullshit.”
“You are rig
ht.”
“I want you to know,” Carlos said from the heart, “that you’ve been as much of a gift to me as you may think I’ve been to you. I also want you to know that I worry about you sometimes. Hell—I worry about you a lot.”
Lolah was touched by his empathy, but she didn’t need it.
“Trust and believe,” she assured him, “I can take care of myself. You have no idea. Been doing it for a minute.”
Not ready to let the subject lie, Carlos said, “I know you’re a tough cookie, but this here Miami animal is a different beast that’s inundated with fuck boys.”
Lolah wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer, but she had to ask the question.
“What do you mean by fuck boys?” She hoped this wasn’t his way of saying he was bisexual. He didn’t look the type that would take it up the ass, but she’d seen stranger shit in the past.
“Fuck boys—that’s my name for chumps who have big-money dreams and piggy bank hustles. So they prey on the next man’s hustle, or woman in your case. Gender don’t really matter to a fuck boy. He try his hand wherever he thinks he can get away with it.”
“I won’t spend a lot of time worrying about fuck boys, but I will, as always, proceed with caution.”
“You’ve made more money in two months than a lot of wannabes see in a lifetime,” he told her. “Just be careful. That type of bread breed crabs by the bushels.”
His words were hitting too close to home, and the champagne was making it more intense. She knew she was tipsy and not one hundred percent in control—and that was means for a slipup that could cost her everything. And that was a problem. It was time for her to go and get to her safe haven that she had created at Matteo’s house.
Most Wanted Page 16
