Most Wanted

by Turner, Nikki

  Although the evening had turned out better than she anticipated, Lolah declined dessert. As Carlos waited on the bill to come, they continued to talk, but Carlos was staring at her in a way that he was undressing her with his eyes. “You are so gorgeous, Lolah.” He reminded her too many times to count and she knew what he had on his mind. But it wasn’t that kind of party.

  “You should definitely let me have one night with you. Show you just one time how much I appreciate you.”

  “No, sir, now you know we can’t mix business and pleasure.” Just then the waiter approached the table with the check. “Ah,” she said, “saved by the bell, the bill.”

  “Yeah,” Carlos smiled, and joked, “I’m glad I don’t have to sit through that lecture, Lolah,” as he put a few hundred dollar bills into the binder to pay for their tab.

  “Glad I don’t have to give it to you then.” She smiled.

  “You can’t fault me for trying.” They stood up. “After all, you are a stunningly gorgeous woman, with lots of charisma, spunk, style, ambition, a hell of a body and—” He put his finger up as he led them out. “And . . . rich, I must add. That’s a complete package.”

  “You got that right,” she said, blushing.

  The two laughed and giggled all over the place as they waited for the valet to bring their cars around. Carlos’s phone kept vibrating; it had been all night.

  “You really should get that,” Lolah said.

  He shooed off her comment with his hand. “Aww, no time for foolishness when we are celebrating our future,” he said, powering the phone completely off and putting it in his pocket.

  Carlos was so into impressing Lolah and enjoying the moment with her, while Lolah was so drunk that she had totally let her guard down, for the first time since being in Miami, and wasn’t checking her surroundings that neither noticed that they were being watched . . . and definitely by the wrong set of eyes.

  15

  The Little Things

  Once in her car, she reached into her Hermes bag and checked her phone. She saw a couple of missed calls from Matteo; he was always checking on her. Since he had loosened the reins on her, she usually called him on a regular basis to keep him up on what she was doing, so he wouldn’t worry himself to death.

  Then there was a missed call and text from Sticks: u ok beautiful?

  Even though Sticks’s text was short and sweet, it melted her heart because she knew it was sincere and from the heart. Sticks was nothing like the other guys whom she’d encountered back home; he was everything that her father would have wanted for her.

  Things were finally shaping up for her and there was no doubt about it, things happen for a reason. There was a reason why she landed in Miami and why of all the men she interacted with on regular basis, Sticks was the only one who caught her attention. Like her father always said, what is meant to be will be. And things always have a way of working out for the best.

  Lolah was not only feeling herself but the liquor. Her feelings were running wild, and when the phone rang, she looked at the caller ID. It was the perfect person she felt to share her feelings with. He always gave her the best advice.

  “Hello.”

  “How are you, princess?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You sound drunk,” Mickey said. He knew his daughter like a book. She was the love of his life. For the past fourteen years since Emma died, up until Peaches had to flee the city, she had been his whole existence. He knew that girl in and out, and the fact she was almost a thousand miles away didn’t change it.

  “You drunk, girl?”

  “No, Daddy, not drunk, just had a little champagne. Just celebrating with one of my business associates our accomplishments, that’s all,” she said; then she slammed on the horn. “Lady, what are you doing?” she screamed at a Cadi that cut her off.

  “And you’re drinking and driving?” he asked. She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “Noooo, it’s not like that,” she tried to assure her father, who was quiet for a moment trying to assess the situation.

  “So you are not driving?” he asked.

  “I’m about to pull over and I’m going to sit in this gas station parking lot and talk to my favorite guy right now.”

  “Right now?” he questioned. “I thought I was your favorite guy, you mean to tell me somebody is taking my place?” Mickey lightened the mood with a joke. Though he wasn’t happy, he didn’t want to spend the limited minutes he did have fussing with his daughter.

  “No, nobody could ever take your place, Daddy. In fact, I’ve been having this whole topic on my mind for a couple of weeks now and wanted to get your input on it.”

  “Shoot, baby,” he said, loving that although his daughter was a long ways away from home, she still wanted to share her feelings and issues with him. That made him feel good on the inside.

  “Well, I’m making quite a good life for myself here, one that you would be proud of. If I have to say so myself, Daddy, I really did well with picking up the pieces.”

  “I heard,” he said, letting her know in no uncertain way that he’d been talking to Matteo, checking up on her.

  “One that you’d be proud of. Everything you taught me”—she took a deep breath—“it really prepared me for the sharks, wolves, snakes, and the whales, too, and they are learning slowly but surely that they don’t want to mess with me. That I swim in deep waters, Daddy.”

  “Then I did something right.” She could hear the smile that she had just put on her father’s face.

  “You did a wonderful job, you did that.” She complimented her father and she could feel his heart soften through the phone. She could feel the warmth in his voice. “And I know you know this, but you really prepared me for this journey, but there was one thing that either I cut class or you didn’t prep for.”

  “What’s that?” Mickey was curious and had no clue what she could possibly be referring to. Because the girl was literally raised in the streets, she’d seen a lot more than any twenty-one-year-old he knew.

  “Just my feelings.”

  “Feelings?” He was puzzled.

  “You taught me to never let my emotions override my intellect. My body is a temple, and that whoever I’m with, I should know that I’m the prize, never to be a pawn.” She rambled on some of the jewels of love her father had given her. “Like who likes me, and who loves less controls the relationship. Keep my mind on my money. No man is worth me putting my dreams and aspirations to the side. Yes, you taught me those things.”

  “Yes, I did, and, darling, those are very key things.”

  “Yes, they are, Daddy. They are.”

  “Then what seems to be the problem, pumpkin?” he asked.

  “Before all this happened, you always told me, you never wear my heart on my sleeve. And to never fall in love, just to grow in love. And I never fully understood that. But I took your advice, and after a while of dealing with the same knucklehead I realized I didn’t want to grow it. But now it’s different and extra complicated.

  “I’m in this situation, which I know at any given time I have to be able to walk away from at a moment’s notice. However, I’m around this person who I’ve grown into strong like and they like me too. A guy who takes care of me but cares for me, who respects me, who is honest, watches my back, makes me laugh, laughs at my jokes, understands me as much as I will let him, accepts me for who I am, flaws and all.”

  “That’s what a man should do,” Mickey said firmly.

  “And I really like him too. I mean, I feel like I don’t have any control of my heart when I am around him. Sometimes when he walks in the room, and when I hear his ringtone, I can’t hide my smile. And you know I can read people, everything about him from the first day I met him has been genuine. Even when I get out of control, he tells me about myself. But you know what the really crazy part is, Daddy?”

  “What?”

  “That when he tells me I’m talking crazy or doing something out of p
ocket, I respect that and I know he cares and it is coming from a real place.”

  Mickey had to agree. “He must be someone special if you actually care about his opinion. I know firsthand that you are stubborn as a bull.” Mickey was about to say more, but she cut him off.

  “Daddy, I really like this guy, but it’s just complicated with my current overall predicament.”

  “I understand,” he said, thinking about her situation, but wanting and needing to know more for his own reasons and to give her the best possible guidance under the circumstances. “Where do you two stand now?” he asked.

  Before she could answer, the phone beeped again; less than ten percent of the battery was left. “Well, it’s just intense emotions running wild. Nothing has happened sexually, but we both have a magnetic attraction to each other. He hasn’t made any advances and has been totally respectable. We’ve been friends and just spend a lot of time going out and hanging out as solely friends, which is getting a little awkward because we mesh so well. And I know that we both want more, but we haven’t taken it to the next level.”

  “Who is this person and has Matteo met him? And what does he say?”

  She paused for a second. “It’s his son.”

  Lolah’s phone went dead, but not before Mickey blurted out, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  16

  Combat Princess

  Lolah sat in the car in the parking lot of the U-gas station wiggling the iPhone charger around, trying to get it to work for her. She had been in the middle of the conversation with her father and wanted to hear what he had to say. She knew that the charger had a short in it and had been meaning to pick up a new one. “Damn it,” she said. “I’ve got to do better,” she scolded herself. Then finally the green light popped back on. She had it working, but she knew that her father probably wouldn’t be calling her back. Would she have to wait two weeks for him to call again? Her feelings were running rapid. And she knew that she needed to get home, get her feelings under control and herself under the covers to sleep the alcohol off.

  She started the car, and all of a sudden, “BOOM!”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  A Range Rover had hit her parked beautiful convertible Bentley at full speed, moving it inches from the door of the station. The hit was so hard that it tossed the few contents out of the car, her purse and a couple of CD cases, onto the pavement. At first she didn’t know what was going on. She looked in her side-view mirror and saw the door of the Rover opening and someone getting out. At first she was sure that the person was going to bring her their insurance information.

  “Bitch.” She heard a woman’s voice.

  “What the hell?” she said out loud as if someone could hear her. She knew that these Miami people were crazy, and this woman had the nerve to hit her car and then want to talk shit. This night was getting more interesting by the minute.

  “Bittttttttttttcccccccccchhhhhh!” the woman screamed again.

  Now this woman had to be either drunk, high, or fucking deranged, Peaches thought. But Peaches wasn’t taking no chances. At that moment she wished she had a pistol, but she didn’t. So to be on the safe side, she ran her hand down along the side of the seat and grabbed the billy club that she had gotten from Matteo, who had gotten it from a police friend of his.

  “Bitttttttttcccchhhhhhh,” the woman was screaming at the top of her lungs, prompting Peaches to reach into the glove box and get her Mace.

  Her first thought was that maybe it was Pablo, and he was coming to retaliate. But then she heard a high-pitched woman’s voice with a Latin accent, screaming, “Bitch, get out the car,” which made her think again. She’d always imagined Pablo would have sent men dressed in black for her, who moved in silence and violence.

  She knew there were a lot of certified cuckoo birds in Miami, but she wasn’t expecting them to come mess with her. After all, Lolah kept a low profile for the most part, and didn’t bother a soul. She was a free spirit and didn’t want any problems. Lolah wasn’t really a fighter, but she grew up in the hood, and had had her share of days of scrapping in the middle of the street. And she knew it was either be a predator or prey; and she wasn’t about to be anybody’s dinner in this dog-eat-dog world.

  “Bitch, get the fuck out of the car,” the woman screamed again.

  Lolah looked in her side-view mirror and saw a pretty Spanish-looking girl dressed in camouflaged combat pants, a top to match, with some tan Timberland boots. The one thing that she couldn’t miss, more than anything, and this picture will always be plastered in her head, was the girl looked like she had a whole bottle of baby oil on her face. Lolah knew what time it was.

  The Vaseline on this girl’s face made it clear that she came to fight and there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Lolah normally tried to walk away from fights, but there was no getting out of this run-in. It was what it was.

  “Bitch, I’m going to teach you a lesson about fucking with me and mine.” The girl spoke in English with a strong Spanish accent and was almost near the car.

  Lolah quickly slipped out her Giuseppes and slipped on her flats that she always kept in the floor of her car for driving and pushed the door open.

  “Get the fuck outta here, you simple-acting, loud-ass bitch. ’Cause you really don’t know me.”

  “No, bitch, you don’t know me.” Combat Princess hit the back of the Bentley, then displayed her switchblade. “I’m going to fuck that pretty face of yours up, so no man will ever want your ass again.”

  “Aww, you got weapons, huh?” Lolah asked with a chuckle.

  “To teach your ass a lesson.”

  “That’s impossible, boo-boo,” Lolah said, sizing up this girl. “They wouldn’t give you a degree to teach underwater basket weaving.”

  “When I’m done with you, you won’t be getting no more presents from no man.”

  “I’m self-made,” Lolah said with great pride, holding her billy club ready to take this broad’s head off, but at that moment realizing that this had nothing to do with her but everything to do with Carlos.

  “Bitch, you done. In this town you are done.”

  “Bitch, you talk too much. And empty promises, I don’t need ’em. Get the fuck outta here before you get hurt.” Lolah tried to warn the girl.

  When Combat Princess saw the billy club, she picked up a rock and threw it at Lolah.

  “Seriously . . .” Lolah ducked and went to Combat Princess’s ass. She was aiming to cluck her upside the head and knock some sense into it, but Combat Princess put her arm up and her forearm got caught instead. Then Lolah pushed her down on the ground and put her foot on her throat, taking the wind out of her.

  “Now, I don’t know what this is about, bitch, and I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Now, listen, Carlos and I are in business, that’s it that’s all. End of story.”

  With all her might she got up the strength to say, “You lie.”

  “Now out of respect for him, I’m not going to fuck you up. Now take your ass home and go fuck Carlos so you don’t have to worry about any women. And frankly, you are too cute for this stupid shit.” She reached down and pinched her on the cheek.

  Combat Princess wanted to say something, but she couldn’t get enough strength up.

  That’s when Lolah heard sirens, which alerted her that she was in danger and that she needed to get her ass up and out of there before she be dealing with way bigger problems.

  She ran to the car, and on her way, she grabbed her purse off the cement. Combat Princess got up as quick as she could, too, and started to make her way to the Range, but not before screaming out, “This ain’t over, bitch. And stay the fuck away from Carlos. Next time I’ll kill you.”

  Lolah couldn’t believe this chick. She asked herself out loud, “What the fuck?”

  She started the Bentley and tried to put up the top, but it was stuck. She pulled out of the gas station and looked in the rearview mirror to make sure that the Ra
nge was too. But she saw that Combat Princess had stopped to pick up something, and that’s when Lolah realized it, “Damn, this bitch got my fucking wallet.”

  17

  The Next Level

  It is common to see quarter-million-dollar cars cruising the streets of Miami, but not with a side panel or rear end caved in. Trying to make it all the way to Matteo’s house was definitely a risk not worth taking. The fact that Lolah had been drinking didn’t help the situation at all. She parked the car and called Sticks. Sticks could tow the Bentley to the garage, and in a matter of a few days the car would be fixed and as good as new. She could deal with Carlos’s psycho-ass wife later. The only downside to that scenario was, if there was one, that she would be further indebted to Sticks. She would have to live with that. However, she promised herself that she would one day pay him back. Somehow.

  The Ritz Hotel sat on the right side of the street from where she was at. Both of them decided that a hotel would be a better place to wait than a restaurant or bar. Less scrutiny.

  As Lolah pulled up, the valet attendant peeped that the car had been in a collision.

  She got out and handed him the keys. “Can you park it near the back for me?” When the attendant looked at her questioningly, she added, “My jealous husband can be controlling sometimes. I’m just trying to stay off radar for a while. I may even leave him this time, who knows.”

  The attendant bought the story. “I will take care of everything,” he said, and parked the Bentley.

  Once in the lobby, Lolah got the keys to the suite that Sticks had booked online for her. Sticks had said that he would be there as soon as he could, but it would be at least two hours. She figured she might as well wait in style and comfort.

  That bullshit with Carlos’s wife popping up out of nowhere, accusing Lolah of fucking her man, had created major negative energy in her space. Lolah just wanted to decompress and regroup. She ordered a piece of chocolate cake and a bottle of wine from room service to smooth things out and take the edge off.

  Half the bottle and several hours later, she heard a knock at the door. Just to be sure, Lolah asked, “Who’s there?” She had had enough surprises for one night.