“See, you always getting so sensitive about that damn boat. That’s how I know it’s more than just your love for the money.” Snatching the tail end of the joint, I abruptly ended the conversation. She must’ve been snorting coke to think I’d walk away from the best moneymaker since hot butter popcorn.
“Kill that noise, ma. You already know I love the taste of your pussy and your pussy only,” I lied, hoping she’d bought it. “Please don’t ruin my day—it just started.” I reached into my nightstand and pulled a small, sealed, Ziploc bag of treats. “Come on, let’s have a do over and get off to the right start.” I dangled the goodies in front of her face.
Gianna had just turned 19 and was a party girl gone wild. She ran away from home at the tender age of 15 and had been hustling on the streets and stripping in exotic clubs under the radar for years. Unfortunately, her uninhibited lifestyle left the door open for many demons to travel through.
Since meeting Carla cleaning cabins on the Sunrise, she’d been led down a twisting path of jealousy, lies, and deceit. Having gotten down with girls regularly, Gianna didn’t think that getting into a relationship with Carla would be so complicated. She was accustomed to being the young, sought-after girl who everyone adored and desired to be like. This junkie Carla had created within her was a stranger she was growing to hate and despise. Spending the last few months devoting every moment in her life trying to please her girlfriend, she was lost and caught up. She’d done everything Carla had commanded of her—and still came up empty. Any time the topic of a monogamous relationship was on the table, drugs suddenly appeared too. All she truly wanted was to be loved, but unfortunately for her, she couldn’t differentiate between the bullshit and drugs Carla kept her full of. Whoever said temptation was an easy thing to fight couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Why do you act like you don’t want me sometimes?” Gianna asked, snatching the bag of ecstasy pills. As I watched her pop the pill, washing it down with bathroom sink water, a small smile perched my lips. She was so beautiful, yet so dumb and easily manipulated.
“I always want you, Gianna. You’re my little baby,” I smiled devilishly, knowing I wanted only the package between her thighs.
“Don’t play with me, Carla. You know I can’t take another blow to the heart.” Gianna’s mouth told the truth. As the ecstasy pill worked its way through her system, the buildup of negative emotion started to sink into the pit of her stomach. Many days it was hard for her to live with the decisions she’d made and the life she’d chosen.
“I’m not playing. Come over here, girl, and let me show you,” I seductively responded to her, glad she’d started to feel the drug. I loved it when she was space-time high and couldn’t function. She’d really get wild off coke in her system, so I kept a stash of both for play.
She modeled her long, loving legs across toward me, submissive to my every desire. Smoking on the blunt, I was feeling my high getting more intense. It was safe to say we were both ready to fuck. Her eyes were red and low, slanted like Chinese eyes from the drug taking over. Now, more relaxed and mellow, I moved over to her and kissed her neck softly three times.
“Umph, don’t get me worked up—seriously,” she whispered as I backed up, taking another puff. Her eyes were closed, allowing me to take her in as I ran my fingers through hair. Her chocolate skin was smooth and silky, and I couldn’t take my hands off her.
“So, tell me, sweet Gianna, why would you be here with me if I wasn’t feeling you?” I was laying it on thick.
“You can show me better than you can tell me,” she whispered with lust. After that, it was on.
Chapter Eight
Sable
“I want to thank you for flying United Airways. We’ll be landing in sunny Miami, Florida, in approximately fifteen minutes. I’m going to ask you to secure your seat belts . . .” The flight had been fairly unexciting, one you’d hope for, so no complaints here. I’d slept most of the flight, getting my energy up for the good time ahead of us.
Miami was everything I’d seen on Instagram . . . and more. The palm trees, clear blue water, and even the Miami-Vice video game layout made me forget about the home Mike Mike and I shared. It didn’t take much for me to get caught up in the flash, flare, and hype the city portrayed. As the taxi drove us through the overcrowded streets to our hotel on Ocean Drive, I regretted even thinking about Mike Mike, because even the mere mention of his name could ruin my mood.
“Y’all go grab a drink. I’ll go check us in.” Jazz hurriedly jumped out of the cab as the non-English taxicab driver swerved up to the curb. With my face glued to the window like a true tourist, I was floored by the abundance of gay pride flags that waved up and down the strip. It’s like we drove into the Crayola color explosion. As the bellhop of the Clevelander met us on the curb to help with our luggage, we slid out of the cab in awe at what we’d been sucked into.
“What the fuck? It’s raining rainbows.” Roxy’s expression was one of pure repulsion and disappointment. “Yeah, Jazz really got me good. This ain’t even cool.”
By this time, Jazz had disappeared through the revolving doors of the brightly lit, busy hotel. Even though Roxy was complaining and finding every excuse possible to hate on how turned up the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (GLBT) community were, I had to admit they were representing for their belief and had my vote for support.
“Oh, you can leave my bag in the trunk of that taxi, sir.” She stomped over to the confused-looking bellhop, who followed her orders and released her bag’s strap. “This right here ain’t even for me.”
“Oh, so, you didn’t know about it being Gay Pride Week? This weekend wraps it.” He chuckled as if she weren’t the first foolish girl of the day to be discouraged about what the city had to offer with the GLBT’s being out, but when Roxy cut her eyes at him with brashness, he quickly swallowed his laughter.
“That’s a dumb-ass question to ask. Does it look like it?” Giving him the “dumb look” face and starting to raise her voice, I could tell the bellhop was only backing down because he was dressed in a uniform with a badge, on the clock, and working. Even I could see she was testing her limits, but with Roxy, she was always set on go.
“Whoa, baby girl, you can chill coming on me like that. It’s cool. I’ll leave your bags right where they sit. Hey, ma,” he waved for me as I stood to the side, watching and waiting on their explosion, “point out your bags so I can do my job.” His nerves had worn thin with Roxy, and I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t owe her shit and was only out here trying to make his cash.
“It’s the purple bags,” I called out. “And you can bring hers too, even though she’s acting all grumpy and shit. Roxy, get your stubborn acting ass over here now.” Even though she was grown and entitled to her right to an opinion and clown session, I couldn’t let the bellhop get caught up in her fury.
“Why you tell him to get my bags?” She stomped back over to me with folded arms acting real childish.
“Because we’re on vacation with a room reserved here at the Clevelander. You might as well live it up and not let a little gay pride ruin your plans to party.”
“Okay, maybe I’m crazy.” Roxy looked around dumbfounded like she could’ve been seeing something more than what I was taking in. “It’s men posing as chicks, women loving every minute of the impersonations, and a kaleidoscope of colors. My motherfucking head is hurting, just having my eyes opened out here.” Sliding her knockoff Tom Ford sunglasses down over her eyes, Roxy was overly dramatic, and I couldn’t wait for Jazz to come out here and give her what she had coming. Up to this point, my girl was out here stunting and performing for everyone out here willing to watch.
“Well, that would be one way to describe it.” I scanned the streets full of rainbow flags, posters, banners, and couples wearing their gayness with pride. It was true we weren’t expecting the event to be so grand and spectacular, but at this point, all I could say was . . . It is what it is.
“Okay, then
. . . So he can leave my bags be, and the fare can keep running.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. The tantrum was too much. Having to be checked and brought back down to earth, I immediately took charge of the awkward situation. “Quit all of that, Roxy. That nigga don’t know you no different from the next bitch in the street. Don’t make his day all bad ’cause you’ve got a problem with Jazz.” Being truthful with my girl, I didn’t really want to see her making a fool of herself to this innocent brother, who looked good, by the way. “And if you looking for a big dick to ride while we’re down here, you might want to play it cool and not further embarrass yourself. He could be the perfect fuck buddy candidate while we’re down here,” I nudged and winked at her, trying to cool the situation.
“Here’s your bag, sweetheart.” He set my luggage down on my side. “I don’t want no problems, so just say the word, and I’m on it.” He looked at Roxy, and she followed my advice and took it easy on him.
“Fuck it. I’m too far locked into this vacation and away from home. Go on and bring the bags.” When he returned, she apologized, not wanting to look like a common fool. But deep down inside, I knew Roxy was boiling and regretted her decision to come. “My bad. It ain’t nothing personal, playa. I shouldn’t have cut into you like that,” she humbled herself, apologizing for her out-of-line outburst. Proud that she had taken a cop, I patted her on the back for encouragement and reassurance.
“It’s cool. I’m not even tripping.” His tight lips said one thing, but his mean mug told another. With Roxy being so caught up in her emotions, she didn’t peep his look of disdain for her presence and continued with her rant.
“Shiiiit, this is some motherfucking bullshit, Sable. Tell Jazz’s behind I’m at the bar,” Roxy screamed, turning away from the bellhop, even though he hadn’t walked away. “I was trying to get boo’ed up on this vacation. But it looks like that won’t be happening. Wait until she brings her sneaky ass back out here.” Snatching her rollaway luggage, huffing and puffing her way toward the crowded bar, I was left speechless with the taxi driver and bellhop standing in my face.
“Oh shit, here.” I dug in my purse for two twenties and waited for my change. Offering him three dollars for a tip, he snatched it angrily like that wasn’t enough.
“Hey, yo, wait up.” It was my turn to act a Detroit fool to show him to be a little more appreciative. “Do you need me to give you more of a tip?” I asked honestly and wanting an honorable response in return.
“Ah, yes. This cheap. I drive you all the way from airport and lug you bags in and out. You girls chitchat and laugh too loud. Yes, I need more tip.” The Indian driver must’ve had his head wrapped too tight.
“Give me back my money.” I snatched my three singles from his hand. “That’s your job to tote bags and drive bad bitches all day, you greedy, salmonella-infested, chicken-smelling fool. You signed up to do this shit.”
“Rude b—” Taking one look at the bellhop swell up, he backed down in his words and stance. Wanting to call me a bitch or worse than that, I’m sure a black bitch, me and the bellhop were going to have to take turns stomping this sandal-wearing sucker into the ground. Making a better judgment call, he turned and walked back toward his cab, not uttering a single solitary word.
“Good looking,” I acknowledged his strong backing and continued to stare until the rude prick drove away.
“Oh, it’s nothing. But you and your girls have brought some ra-ra to the city. Where y’all from?”
Detroit,” I blushed, realizing he’d seen nothing but going ham since the cab pulled up a few minutes ago. I couldn’t take a cop, ’cause, real talk, this probably wouldn’t be our first, second, or last confrontation while down here.
“Yeah, I should’ve known. Every time I run into some chicks from the D, they be cutting up and clowning.”
“Is that so? You could be right.” If not, I sure wasn’t in the place to be defensive. He just witnessed me being petty and rowdy over three measly dollars. But my point was the principle, so whatever. Let’s move on.
“Oh, I know I am.” His confidence was shining through, reminding me of Mike Mike.
“Hey, babe, what’s your name?”
“Tyrell.” Turning toward the hotel, peeping his head over an oversized statue, I could only assume he was checking to see if his managers were watching. “I’m on duty till five.”
“Nice meeting you, Tyrell. I’m Sable, and that’s Roxy. Ole girl who ran inside is Jazz, and we’re the disorderly bad girls staying at your hotel this weekend.” I stuck out my hand for him to shake. He smiled, taking it pleasantly, and kissing it gently. If Mike Mike could see another man touching me right now, he’d kill us both on sight—no questions asked, and no remorse felt afterward.
“Anything I can do for you, sweetheart, just let me know.” He was debonair and courteous, very handsome with what seemed to be a laid-back personality. If things weren’t so complicated in my life right now, I’d be checking for him. Being just my type, well-groomed and hardworking, if nothing more, he could’ve been a one-night stand while here.
Glad he brought it up. I couldn’t wait to use his generosity as a crutch. “Well, I’m sorry to ask so soon and excuse me if I’m being too up front, but where can we get some Kush from?” Not wanting to get caught up with airport security, I was forced to smoke up all my stash at home and take this trip with the possibility of not having any marijuana to start, proceed, continue, and end my day. My nerves were already in a funk, and I was itching to get my lips wrapped around a blunt. I felt relaxed as he smiled the All-American, “Oh, you smoke” expression or another, “Yeah, you’re a Detroit girl” grin.
“That’s not too up front for a dealer to hear,” he chuckled, turning to walk toward where Jazz was now coming from. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but trust, I’ve got you.” Even though his words were like music to my ears, I didn’t know why a dealer would be working as a bellhop, but whatever. As long as he came through with his promise on the weed, it wasn’t any of my business. I was a true fiend to the weed, and even though admitting it was the first step to recovery, I wasn’t searching for the strength to quit. It was a problem I desired and happily welcomed into my life.
With that, I joined Roxy at the bar as she nursed her anger with a Long Island. I could feel her pain but not enough for it to ruin my vacation. Jazz had stopped Tyrell in his tracks, walking back from talking with me. Only exchanging a few words before continuing on, I’d summed the situation up as irrelevant and moved on trying to flag the waitress down. This would be my first drink in South Beach, and with the small drama that had occurred so far, it was safe to assume I’d be living with a bottle the next seventy-two hours.
“Hey, boos.” Jazz walked up with a bright smile on her face, and Mardi Gras beads flowing around her neck.
“Don’t ‘Hey, boo’ me, bitch. You set us up,” Roxy yelled, bringing attention our way. “I’m strictly dickly around all this gay bullshit.”
“Lower your voice and quit being so disrespectful. I know you don’t get down like that, but I do . . . so be cool.” Jazz waved for the bartender before looking at me for assistance. But what could I say? “Why are you acting like you didn’t know about gay pride?” she quizzed Roxy.
“I knew, but damn, this right here is way more than I could’ve been paid to imagine.” Roxy was honest and sounded sincere.
“Okay, well—I wasn’t about to have an introductory seminar on being around gay people or pride events,” she taunted Roxy. “If it were something you felt unsure about or whatever the case might be . . .” Jazz waved her hand in the air with the most “sister, girl, please, you better say it” attitude Sable had ever witnessed her girl imitate. “You should’ve asked or looked it up online. Everybody has Google.” Not wanting to seem foolish like Roxy, I kept quiet about not expecting what was on display either and played the role of an agreeable, caught-in-the-middle friend. However, I was caught off guard just as much as Roxy, if not more.
“Whatever, Jazz. Clue a bitch in, like I said. You know me and Sable don’t get down like that and ain’t about to be researching no rituals or traditions,” she truthfully spoke, even though now my eyes were wide open. A change was coming or had arrived, so I was ready to live in it.
“Okay, maybe I should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, but I fucked up and didn’t. Let it go while we’re here, and let’s just enjoy our vacation as planned,” she pleaded as the waitress returned with our drinks. I could tell Jazz wasn’t backing down because she genuinely felt some guilt. She didn’t want her birthday weekend ruined over something petty and preventable.
“Fuck it. I’ll chill out and try to have a decent time.” She still looked exasperated but was trying to be a good sport. I’d seen my girl in rare form, so I knew Jazz was getting off tremendously easy.
“Thank you. I appreciate it and owe you both one,” she cheered to us both, but I didn’t need none of the reassurance like Roxy. This vacation wasn’t long enough to be giving all this energy and time to not wanting to be here. Downing my drink, ready to experience what everyone around me seemed to be captivated in, the warm kickback of the rum, tequila, vodka, and gin in the Long Island had me twisted up already. “Let’s hurry up and finish these drinks so we can hit the streets and get thick in this festival.”
“Hold up now. Can we get dressed first? This might not be my type of crowd, but you know I must keep it fly, regardless.” Roxy was right. Most importantly, I had to get my Nike bag to a safe place.
* * *
The Clevelander was on point. Of course, I’d been in more luxurious hotels, but never one solely dedicated to partying. With it being in the center of everything, the nightclub scene appeared to be twenty-four hours a day. We could live in paradise and never step foot out of the hotel. They had a pool and patio on the ground floor, plus a rooftop terrace, deck, lounge, and sports bar. But for damn near three hundred a night, it was expected to be a deluxe stay with supreme amenities.
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