“The Bal Harbour Shops is only a few miles from here.”
“The Bal who shops?”
“The Bal Harbour Shops is one of the most exclusive malls in the Miami area. You’ll find a Dior store as well as Oscar de la Renta—”
“Now you’re talkin’ my language,” Misty blurted, excitement building. “Dior is hot, but I’m not feeling that other designer. Any other designers at the mall?”
“Absolutely. The women’s stores include: Carolina Herrera, Chanel, Chloe, Dior, DVF, Escada, Intermix, Lulu Couture, Max Mara, Miu Miu, Valentino, and Vera Wang…to name a few.”
“Okay, I’ve died and gone to heaven. I have to get to that mall.”
The man on the other end of the phone laughed politely. “Are you driving, ma’am? If so I can print out directions for you.”
“No, I am not driving,” Misty whined.
“That’s not a problem. I can arrange for a car to take you to Bal Harbour, if you’d like.”
The Bal Harbour mall sounded like the business. Misty experienced a million little tingles as she envisioned the shopping oasis. All those designer stores under one roof! Overwhelmed and titillated, Misty became lightheaded. She needed to collect herself.
“Let me think about it. I’ll call you back.”
“Yes, ma’am. Take your time. We look forward to taking care of your needs,” the concierge said before hanging up.
Misty stared at Horatio. “Yo, they serious up in this joint. I dig the way they take care of the guests. Bastard was calling me ma’am, offering to order a car for us…talking to me like I’m Princess Di or somebody. Well, not Princess Di cuz she dead…but you feel what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m serious, yo. This how we gon’ be rolling from now on. First-class. I can’t accept less.” Misty shook her head emphatically.
“Nah, we can’t deal with flying coach no more. Them seats are way too small for me.”
“I don’t mean simply when we fly. I mean everything…hotels… the works. That damn Spydah kept sticking me in the Sheraton all the time. He act like he had half-price coupons for that dip. I’m through feeling like a second-class citizen. I like all this rich shit.”
“Me, too,” Horatio agreed.
“Get ready, yo. It’s ’bout to pop off. You got to be down for whatever. You feel me?”
“I feel you, Misty.” Horatio gave a firm head nod.
“I changed my mind about shopping.”
“You got jokes.”
“I’m serious. I might need five or six stacks when I run up in Bal Harbour and I’m not tryna dip into my cake. All my expenses should be on Smash.”
“I don’t know, Misty. You might be pushing it if you expect that man to pay for one of your wild shopping sprees.”
“Hmph. After he sniffs this…” She patted her crotch. “He might as well prepare to become my official sponsor. Smash Hitz is gon’ start picking up the tab for everything I want,” she boasted.
“Aiight, if anybody can pull it off, you can.”
“Wanna know what I really want?”
Horatio looked at her.
“A crib. Like a mini-mansion…something with six or seven bedrooms. My business is expanding and I need more space.”
“Why don’t you let the boys move into their own spots? You breaking everybody off. By now, everybody should be able to afford their own apartment.”
“Nah, I like having my dick slingers in close proximity.”
“Suppose I wanted my own crib…what would you say?”
“Do you?”
“Nah, I’m just asking. I’m curious.”
“I’d let you leave…but you wouldn’t get as much work as the boys who are under my roof and who remain loyal to me.”
“I ain’t going nowhere, Misty. I was just asking.”
Hmm. I’ma have to keep an eye on Horatio.
CHAPTER 43
A very pompous member of Smash’s organization called Misty’s cell. The man identified himself as Mr. Hitz’ assistant. He was extremely articulate, with a voice of authority that reminded her of a newscaster’s. He enunciated very word, sounding real fake.
The fake-ass assistant told Misty that a car would be sent to pick her up promptly at five o’clock. “Please be punctual. Mr. Hitz is a very busy man.”
“I gotchu, boo. Don’t even worry about it. I’ma be ready. It’s all good. Y’ah mean?” She laughed to herself, hoping that her street talk was as offensive as she’d intended. Punk-ass.
Five o’clock was several hours away. With time to kill, Misty told Horatio to order room service. “Get whatever you want.”
Horatio perused the menu. “Man! These prices are steep.”
“Why you worried about it? Our meals are all on Smash’s tab.”
While Horatio waited for his feast to arrive, Misty changed into a tube dress. She put on a pair of beaded flip-flops, and took a stroll down to the beach. The sand between her toes irked her. The blue water was pretty, but she didn’t want saltwater or any seashells or shit to come into contact with her fresh pedicure. That’s enough beach experience for me!
After leaving the beach, Misty ended up on Ocean Drive. She was instantly impressed by the lively atmosphere. Restaurants—one after another—with outdoor seating lined the street. The scrumptious aromas that wafted from the cute little cafés made it hard for Misty to ignore that she hadn’t eaten all day. But she was too excited to take the time to sit still and actually eat.
Moving along, she noticed that the color scheme of Ocean Drive’s art deco architecture seemed to be from a palette of pastels…light yellows, pale pinks, baby blue, and soft peach.
Palm trees were providing shade for everyone eating outside. People of every nationality were milling about, but the Caribbean influence on Ocean Drive was quite distinctive. It seemed like Misty had left the States and had gone to some exotic locale.
People-watching was interesting. She noticed people zipping past on scooters, attractive couples holding hands as they strolled leisurely, taking in the scenery.
The street was jam-packed with expensive cars from Maybachs to Lamborghinis.
Perhaps her last visit to Miami had been in the wrong part of town, but now that she’d experienced ritzy South Beach, Misty was starting to like Miami a lot.
After answering a zillion different questions and even being searched, the Town Car was finally allowed to proceed past the gate.
“Getting inside the White House is probably easier than getting in Smash’s house.” Misty was hot and in a sour mood, after being ordered to get out of the car so she and Horatio and the driver could be searched.
“I have to tell you in all my years of driving, I’ve never been put through a search. My God, did you see the way those security people went through my trunk?” the driver said, sounding like he’d enjoyed the excitement.
As the car traveled up a winding road, Horatio let out an audible sigh of relief. Misty closed her eyes.
“Oh, no,” the driver said. “Another gate.”
Misty’s eyes popped open. “You gotta be kidding.” She craned her neck. Unbelievably, there it was…another goddamn gate. This one was manned by three bulky men. All looking like they were overdoing the steroids.
“What the fuck is all this? This is getting ridiculous. Man, I should turn my ass around and go back to Philly.”
“Be cool, Misty,” Horatio said.
“No! I’m about to pitch a bitch.” Misty stomped out of the car. Horatio followed, walking slowly.
The three men approached. “I need you to open your purse, ma’am?”
“Aw, come on. Not this same shit again.” Misty was pissed. “You mean to tell me that we gotta get checked and patted down…again?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All this ‘yes, ma’am’ and being polite don’t do it for me, if y’all gon’ be treating me like I’m some kind of a criminal.”
“Just following procedures, ma’
am.”
“I hate Miami,” she told Horatio. “People don’t act like this in Philly,” she complained, as she unclasped her purse.
Horatio shook his head at the injustice. He stood obediently with his hands behind his head, while enduring different pairs of strange hands traveling up his pants legs, into his pockets, and in and out of his shirt.
“Y’all some molesting mufuckas,” Misty snarled as hands began to roam over her body parts.
“All clear,” one of the three men said, talking into a mouthpiece.
“They on some Secret Service shit,” Horatio muttered.
Intending to let Smash know how much she didn’t appreciate the disrespect, Misty strolled up the cobblestone walk that led to the extremely tall set of double doors. Before Misty could reach for either of the enormous ram’s head door knockers, the doors opened. A butler dressed in what seemed to be authentic butler gear greeted Misty and Horatio.
Crossing the threshold, they entered a marble-floored foyer area that split into three different directions. Misty looked around in awe. Palm trees and other potted foliage. A flamboyant chandelier dangled from a domed ceiling. Colorful murals decorated the walls.
“Follow me,” the butler said. “This way, please.”
Misty and Horatio fell in step behind him.
“That butler bull is on top of his game,” Horatio whispered.
He took them to a sun-filled room. “We call this the Room of the Ram. Make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Hitz will join you shortly.” The butler gave Misty a tight smile, and then left.
“Yo, can we move in?” Horatio chuckled.
Still standing, Misty gazed at the elegant furniture, the interesting rugs, and the drapery that was absolutely regal. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the stone fireplace that was carved in the shape of a ram’s head. “This room is awesome.”
“This crib is serious,” Horatio added. He turned in a complete circle. “Yo! This jawn is crazy. Smash is on some Scarface shit.”
Misty had never seen such opulence. Not in real life. No wonder Smash thought he could snap his fingers and have mufuckas jumping. Maybe she better act a little more humble. Smash didn’t simply have bank…he probably owned a couple of small countries.
“Misty Delagardo.”
Her head snapped in the direction of the voice. Smash had quietly entered the room. He was dressed casually in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Misty wanted to say something flippant…like, Living like this, I expected you to be on some James Bond ish…I would have expected you to enter the room more dramatically, like from a secret tunnel or float down from that high-ass ceiling, wearing some type of cape.
But instinct told her to tone down her sarcasm. “Good to see you, Smash,” she said politely, and offered her best smile.
CHAPTER 44
“You’re looking better than ever. My bad about New York. I had too much to drink that night.”
“That’s in the past,” she said graciously. She was proud of herself for coming across as seeming calm and collected, when she was actually freaking out inside.
“Have a seat.” Smash made a gesture.
Misty and Horatio sat next to each other. Smash stood in front of them.
“I dig the way you brought your own protection.”
Misty looked over at Horatio and shrugged. “Seemed appropriate.”
“What’s your name, my man?”
“Uh…Horatio.” Horatio cleared his throat. Coughed. He was nervous and couldn’t conceal it.
“Uh-Horatio,” Smash mocked him, laughing. “Nice to meet you, big man.” Smash reached out to shake Horatio’s hand.
Courteously, Horatio stood up. He towered over Smash Hitz, his giant hand swallowing Smash’s.
“Is Uh-Horatio going to check on you while we’re in the bedroom?”
Misty’s gaze flashed to Horatio. “Does he need to?”
“Not at all. You’re safe with me. I don’t bite.” Smash laughed again. “Only if you want me to.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Misty said, laughing. Smash had a set of beautiful teeth. Nice and white. Very expensive dental work. His teeth looked healthy and strong. Like they could hurt something.
“Whatchu feel like getting into, Uh-Horatio? You wanna take a swim? Watch a movie? Hang out in the game room?”
Smash is taking that Uh-Horatio business way to the extreme.
Horatio’s mouth spread into an uncomfortable smile. “Uh…I’m okay.”
Get it together, Horatio. You supposed to be my bodyguard. Stop stuttering; you making me look bad, man.
Smash looked a little irritated. “Whatchu saying, man? You gon’ sit in this room and stare at the walls? Is that all you want to do?”
“He wants to hang in the game room,” Misty affirmed, helping Horatio out.
“Aiight, my man. Mr. Butler will escort you to the game room in a few.”
“Your butler’s name is actually Mr. Butler?” Misty asked.
“That’s what I call him. Mr. Jerry Butler…cool crooner from back in the day.”
Smash Hitz lost Misty with the cool crooner shit. Maybe her mom would know who he was talking about.
Like the other rooms she’d seen, Smash’s bedroom was like something from a movie. His bed was on some Arabian Nights ish and was centered in the middle of the vast room. The walls on one side of the bedroom were made of overlapping thick sheets of tinted glass with water shooting upward. “Your bedroom is awesome. Those walls with that water—”
“That’s my wall fountain, baby. Keeps me calm when I have a lot on my mind.”
She nodded like she understood, but she really didn’t know what else to say. She’d never seen a wall fountain.
Over top of one of Smash’s dressers was a huge, ornate wood carving of a ram’s head.
“I like that, too. You’re really into rams,” she acknowledged.
“I’m an Aries…the sign of the ram,” Smash explained. “Being a ram, I go hard. I don’t ask for permission…I feel entitled. If I see it and I want…I take that shit.” He looked at Misty and chuckled. “Like you. I let Spydah have his fun, but playtime is over. It’s time for you to be with a full-grown man.”
No wonder Smash had stayed on top of the charts for all of these years. His game was tight on wax and one-on-one, in person.
What he’d said about her needing to be with a grown man was a valid point. She completely agreed. Absolutely! she wanted to say, but decided to keep that thought to herself. Maybe she’d get more out of this relationship if she played a little hard to get.
Smash was known to love ’em and leave ’em. Why would he treat her any different? She was gorgeous, for sure, but so were all the women he’d been involved with over the years.
Being realistic, Misty realized she’d be lucky if she got any real money from Smash. He was also notorious for being tight with his dough. She’d simply play her part and take it moment by moment. Spydah was going to be her real cash cow.
As Smash took her on a tour of his personal suite of rooms, Misty couldn’t help from making little sounds of admiration at his interior designing skills.
Damn, now she wanted a mansion. Or at least a mini-mansion. No wonder Spydah and everybody else was riding for Smash Hitz. Smash was the man.
“You realize that Grammy date comes with some conditions,” Smash said, taking off his shirt. His chest and abs looked alright… like he’d put in a little work.
She was glad she wasn’t feeling him all like that. If that were the case, she’d be in a very vulnerable position. Luckily, all she wanted was whatever Smash was willing to come up off of. Having a little of his money, power, and influence was a major come-up.
Misty had never thought she’d play herself like this…give up some coochie for a front seat at an awards ceremony. But it was more than that. She needed to get Smash into her grips to teach Spydah a lesson. She probably couldn’t keep a hold on Smash, but rolling with him for a hot minute would motiva
te Spydah to leave that ugly trick alone and maybe after the Grammys, Misty would be able to persuade Spydah to put her on his payroll. Make up some shit that he says she does for him. His stupid gifts were getting old. She needed some regular income from him.
Misty went into role-playing. Looking at the big picture…a financially solvent future…she convinced herself that Smash was sexy and desirable as she slowly…seductively…stripped out of her clothes.
“Little and luscious,” Smash said, looking at Misty and licking his lips like she was a gourmet delicacy. Smash’s dick wasn’t erect yet, but even so, it was obvious that he didn’t have much of a package. Damn, Smash Hitz got a lot of nerve snapping at people, knowing he walking around with that little-ass dick.
But this house is bangin’, she told herself as she strolled over to Smash. This is how I’m supposed to be living. I don’t care if he ain’t holding.
Smash sat down on a luxurious white chair. That white fabric against his black-velvet skin was an intriguing sight.
Instead of continuing her sexy swagger, she stopped mid-strut. Like an experienced belly dancer, she used soft, rolling hip patterns as she lowered her body to the floor.
CHAPTER 45
Being on her hands and knees was not an act of submission. She felt the confidence of a cunning animal—a patient hunter that had spotted prey.
Feeling predatory…her senses on high alert, Misty was on all fours. Crouched. Muscles rigid. Unmoving.
Stimulated by this provocative display of undisguised, primal sexuality, Smash adjusted his position, wiping away perspiration from his brow. The aroma of masculine sweat broadcasted his arousal.
Misty went into action—her sleek, naked body crawling confidently as she crept in the direction of his scent. Like a tigress going in for the kill, she stalked the mighty ram, her movements calculatingly slow and sensual.
She felt almost light-headed from the primal heat that ignited and charged through her body.
Smash’s breathing became harsh and uneven as Misty drew closer.
But instead of pouncing with savagery…instead of forcibly subduing him, like a ravenous tigress, Misty’s aggressive seduction evolved into a performance that was comparable to that of a gentle kitten.
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