Brad nodded. “Yeah, man, I hear you.”
The announcer on the intercom informed passengers that the plane from Rio to Miami was ready to board. Swag ordered Brad to go first in line, and one by one the others waited to board. Brad was sweating bullets. He wanted to vomit but definitely didn’t need the attention. What caught his eye were two muscular men in black suits. They had shades on and were walking toward the line, looking directly at him. He quickly shifted his head, trying to ignore them, but as they got closer, he saw one of the men reach for Tyler and Travis. The other reached for Stan and Swag.
“Come with us,” one of the men said. “Don’t make a scene and don’t say a word.”
As they started to walk away, Brad held his breath, hoping that they didn’t suspect him as well. He felt horrible for his boys, but as the line kept on moving, he moved right along with it. That was, until another man tapped his shoulder. When Brad turned around and looked into the man’s beady eyes, all he heard was, “Come with me. Now!”
Everybody was staring and whispering as the fellas were being whisked away by the angry-looking men. Poor Brad wanted to pee on himself. Travis and Tyler wanted to run. Stan was shaking his head, having plenty of regrets. And Swag was wondering how in the hell things went so wrong this time.
Chapter 13
Testify
One by one, the fellas were taken into the airport security office and ordered to strip out of their clothes. Their stomachs were tied in knots, and they were scared shitless, especially with guns being pointed at them.
“Maybe you stupid Americans didn’t hear me. I said strip!”
In an instant, and fearing that they would be killed, the fellas immediately stripped down. There were bricks of cocaine taped to Tyler, Travis, and Stan’s chest.
Brad and Swag took off everything except their shorts.
“You fools think I’m stupid! Take those shorts off too!”
Brad and Swag slowly pulled down their shorts. The cocaine bricks were taped to their legs.
“This must be some kind of mistake,” Swag said as if he didn’t know how the cocaine had gotten there.
The men laughed, and one of them ordered the fellas to face the wall.
Stan and Travis started crying. They begged the men to have mercy on them.
“Please don’t do this,” Stan said, refusing to turn around. “I . . . I didn’t know what I was doing. We made a big mistake, and I don’t deserve to die.”
“Neither do I,” Travis said with tears streaming down his face. “None of us deserve to die, and if you let us go, we won’t say shit to nobody.”
The men looked at each other, laughing again.
“The Americans are idiots. How foolish can they be?” one said.
One of the men’s phone rang, so he stepped out of the room to answer. Within minutes after he left, three officers came in to remove the drugs from the fellas. Maybe they weren’t going to be killed after all, Brad thought, and as the drugs were taken off him, he felt a little relieved.
“Are we free to go now?” Brad asked in a frightened tone. “You got the drugs, so we should be free to go.”
“Close your mouth and put your clothes back on,” one of the officers said. “In the meantime, I don’t want to hear one word from any of you.”
They remained tight-lipped as they put on their clothes, but once they were dressed, they were asked to turn around. Following the officer’s rules, no one said a word. There was plenty of head-shaking going on as the cuffs were put on, and plenty of tears. After that, they were escorted out of the security office. Many people looked at them with disgust; some laughed and pointed fingers.
“What did they do?” one lady asked another.
“That’s a shame. I bet they had drugs on them,” a man said to another while shaking his head.
Brad felt so ashamed. Like the others, he lowered his head and didn’t dare to make eye contact with anyone. He never thought in a million years he’d get arrested for anything like this. He wished that he could turn back the hands of time.
Once they were at the police station, the fellas were questioned by Duke in a small interrogation room that had concrete walls and one door. The look in Duke’s eyes was very intimidating. He threatened them with “If you don’t tell me where you got the drugs from” or “Who do you work for” or “You’re going down big for this” speeches, but no matter how intimidating Duke was, the fellas didn’t want to snitch. Yes, Armand had done them wrong, but they viewed him as one dangerous dude. They thought jail time was better than dying at a young age.
Duke looked at an officer standing by the door. “Since none of these motherfuckers want to talk, just book them. I’m not going to waste any more of my time. Maybe after a few days behind bars, somebody will be willing to speak up.”
The fellas looked at each other, hoping that none of them snitched. When the officer informed Duke that the jail was too full, tiny smiles crept on their faces.
Duke slammed his hand on the table. “Then what in the hell am I going to do with these Americans? They can’t run free in the station.”
“Maybe we can put them in the elevator for a few days, until the prison has room.”
“And how do you suppose we keep them in the elevator without them escaping, officer?”
“Just shut down the elevator system. Give them enough food to last two or three days. By then, the prison will have some room.”
Duke sighed. He hated the idea but didn’t have a choice. “Fine, put them in the elevator, but make sure it’s completely shut down. Understand?”
“Yes,” said the officer before he left the room.
Duke was pissed. He looked at the fellas, one by one. “Wipe those smirks off your faces. I don’t think you all understand how serious this is, and if I have anything to do with it, all of you will be behind bars for years and years to come.”
After that comment, their faces fell flat.
Duke knew that the governor was going to be all over his ass. Without the boys’ confession and a statement from the undercover officer passing as the limo driver, whom he had been trying to reach for hours, he didn’t have a case to bring down Armand.
“Damn!” He shouted then pushed the chair in front of him. “I guess it’s time to call this whore with the bad news.”
* * *
Nearly an hour later, the cuffs were removed and the fellas were shoved into a small elevator that could barely fit them. The officer tossed them a duffle bag with sandwiches and milk as he laughed. “Don’t eat it all, especially you two fat boys. Hopefully, that’ll last three days.” He pushed a button, making the doors close.
Brad was the first to rush up to the door, banging on it and pushing all of the buttons to see if the elevator moved. No luck.
“I’ll show yo’ ass something fat!” Brad was heated. He wanted to punch something or somebody, and punching the elevator door allowed him to let off some steam.
“Man, cool out,” Swag said, staying calm.
Brad swung around to face him, but Stan spoke up before he did.
“Cool out? Man, don’t say shit to us, because this is all yo’ fault we in this bullshit! I’ve been trying to keep my mouth shut, but now that we’re alone, I could just fuck you up for getting us in this mess!” yelled Stan, pissed off to another level.
There was no question that Stan’s blood was boiling.
Swag stepped forward, moving to face Stan. “Listen up, motherfucker! I didn’t put a gun to your head and make you come to Brazil, so don’t put this shit on me. All you saw, bruh, was dollar signs.”
Stan cut his eyes before walking a few inches away from him. “Fuck you, man. I hate yo’ ass. You ruined my life.”
Swag pursed his lips. “Bruh, what life? All you did was work at McDonald’s and Wendy’s. Yo’ ass still living wit’ ya parents and taking care of that trick of a girlfriend who everyone knows would suck a dog’s dick in a second. And man, can she suck. Ask my friend.” Swag grabbed his dick, laughi
ng.
“You son of a bitch!” Stan lifted his fist, charging at Swag. Travis and Tyler pulled him back, while Brad pulled Swag back.
“Naw, Travis and Tyler, let that fool go. Come and get some of this. I have a feeling you really don’t want none,” Swag said.
Brad was always the peacemaker when things like this happened. “Come on, y’all. We all friends, and we gotta stick together. Fighting won’t help us one bit.”
Swag snatched away from Brad. “Friends my ass. Fuck that and fuck him!”
“Yeah, nigga, fuck you too!” Stan shouted after he was released.
Brad knew Swag and Stan didn’t mean anything. He had to figure out how to get the hell out of there, get back to St. Louis, and hopefully find out what happened to Diamond along the way.
Chapter 14
Sick
Climbing out of the limousine, Taylor knew that she was the shit, rocking finger waves with her Bobbi Brown makeup on point. Her hourglass figure showed well in a sleeveless white Akris Punto cotton peplum blouse, brown Ralph Lauren denim jeans, and white-and-gold Giuseppe Zanotti sneakers.
She was at Ipanema Beach for a photoshoot for Desmond’s spread for the upcoming cover of Brazilian Kouture. It was a beautiful day outside—a clear blue sky and high waves in the ocean. Taylor wandered around, trying to look for Desmond and trying to keep things in order, since Ramon claimed he was sick from food poisoning.
As Taylor was thinking how hard it was to find good help these days, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Hervé Gallet her friend and a world-renowned French fashion photographer. Hervé, for the past thirty years, had taken photographs of some of the world’s most beautiful supermodels, including Taylor, and landing them on the covers and pages of Cosmopolitan and Marie Claire. Now he was going to take some sexy pictures of Desmond Diaz.
“Bonjour, Hervé, darling.” Taylor said with a smile.
Hervé kissed her hand. “Taylor, mon beau papillon,” he said, calling her a beautiful butterfly.
Hervé’s French accent was thick. He was five foot five, in his mid-fifties, with gray hair, a thick mustache, and droopy brown eyes. His body, which was average, showed well in a black tank top and tan khaki shorts. “By the orders of Ramon, I’m supposed to do this shoot and make the cover even sexier. I have brought my new muse with me.”
Taylor wasn’t happy about him bringing someone else, but she put on her best red-carpet smile. “And who is that?” she asked falsely, knowing exactly who it was.
“Kitana!”
Kitana Cho, better known as supermodel/Oscar nominated actress, immediately took center stage of the entire set. Even without makeup, she was a total knockout. She was a 19-year old mix between Russian, Romanian, Japanese, and West Indian with long, raven-colored hair, icy blue eyes, and an olive complexion. She was a younger version of actress Angelina Jolie for sure.
Since the age of fifteen, Kitana had been taking the fashion and movie industry by storm, appearing on the covers of over a dozen magazines from Elle and Glamour to the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. She also had an amazing acting resume, appearing and starring in several American/European sitcoms and blockbuster films. She was the first ever supermodel to get an Academy award nomination for best actress in a thriller playing a teenage psycho killer.
Kitana walked over to Taylor and Hervé wearing a two-piece gold swimsuit by Victoria’s Secret. It looked painted on her.
“Did you call me, sweetheart?” She air-kissed Hervé’s cheeks.
“Yes, my little swan. This is Taylor Monroe, my former muse and CEO of Brazilian Kouture.”
Former muse? Taylor thought. Please, I’m a muse wherever I go. Taylor continued to hold a fake smile. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Kitana.” Taylor extended her hand.
Kitana rolled her eyes at Taylor. “Same here. I’m always willing to help the less fortunate in the fashion world.”
Taylor’s eyes grew wide. She was stunned. Not only did Kitana leave her hanging, but she called her the less fortunate one in fashion. Oh, no this little bitch didn’t. She must not know who she’s talking to. She may be hot on the scene now, but I have bigger contacts that could take her off the scene so quickly it would make her head spin.
A red sports car pulled up, and Desmond got out looking even finer than Taylor remembered him. He sported a black-and-white tropical shirt, denim shorts, and sandals, but he wasn’t alone. His father, Baron Diaz, a legendary MMA champion turned coach, was with him. He was a handsome man with smooth, dark brown skin, bedroom eyes, and a neatly-trimmed afro. For a man in his late forties, he kept himself in nice shape, which showed in the tank top, shorts, and sandals he wore.
Taylor was in a trance. She didn’t even realize that her assistant was tapping her shoulder. When she finally turned to look at her, there was a twisted look on her face. “What do you want?” Taylor asked.
“Taylor, since Kitana and Mr. Diaz are here, do you want me to lead them to wardrobe, hair, and makeup?”
“Sure. Now, go.” Taylor waved her off then clapped her hands. “Come on everyone, let’s move it! Time is money. Let’s go!” She put on her Linda Farrow Luxe sunglasses, walking away as if she were worth billions.
* * *
The shoot was going extremely well. Desmond was posing like he had been modeling for years, looking like a piece of cinnamon cocaine with his sexy washboard abs and black shorts from his own line.
Taylor licked her lips while thinking about how good he looked. If no one else were there, she would have screwed him on the beach. She laughed to herself then looked around and spotted Kitana and Baron having small talk while looking over at Desmond. Taylor hoped they weren’t talking about Kitana hooking up with Desmond. That was definitely a no-no.
Baron looked at Taylor with a sly grin while mouthing, “It’s over, whore.”
Thank God Taylor had her shades on, because her evil eyes would have killed him.
“Kitana! Kitana! Darling, we need you in a few shots,” Hervé said.
Even without heels, Kitana worked her famous runway walk up to Desmond.
Taylor wanted to vomit as she watched her man and Kitana together. There was no breathing room in between them. In Taylor’s eyes, it appeared that the two were really into each other.
“It’s over between you and my son,” Baron said to Taylor in a whisper.
Taylor looked over at him with snake eyes, ready to inject him with her venom.
“You’re nothing but a washed up old gold digger, just trying to keep your name in the public. But do you see that sexy thing right there?” Baron continued.
Taylor looked back at the shoot to see Kitana rubbing her hands on Desmond’s chest. She even started grinding her butt into his manhood.
“She’s perfect for my son, and by the middle of next year, I’m going to make sure they’re married and become South America and North America’s hottest couple. So stay away, you money-hungry slut.”
Taylor jumped when Baron lifted his hand and slapped her ass.
“Call me if you need some dick in that camel-toe vagina of yours.” He laughed as he walked away.
Taylor’s mouth was open. She was ready to fire back, but she didn’t want everyone’s attention to turn to her. She had a disgusted look on her face, and all she could think about was what would be different if her father weren’t out of the game. She would have had him handle Baron for her. No matter what he’d said, she and Desmond would be together.
“A’ight! A’ight! Everyone, it’s a wrap!” Hervé yelled, going over to Kitana, kissing her on both cheeks. He went over to kiss Desmond, who put up his hand to block Hervé.
Afterward, Desmond glanced at Taylor, who was pretending to look at some of the makeup and clothes. Without saying a word, she ran over to the limousine, knowing that Desmond was coming her way. She couldn’t talk to him with Kitana or Baron there, so she jumped inside the limo, closing the door behind her.
Her driver looked at her, wondering what
the rush was. Once she got herself together, all she told him was to quickly drive off. He did.
While riding down the streets of downtown Rio, Taylor felt broken. That was a feeling she hadn’t felt in years. She didn’t know why Desmond made her feel this way, so needy and insecure. It was supposed to be the other way around. She hated that it wasn’t, but she also knew that love made a person feel this way sometimes.
As she was in deep thought, her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen to see that it was Duke. A smile was on her face. She thought it was good news. Now, she and Desmond could finally be together. Or, at least, that’s what she thought.
Chapter 15
Taking My Place
“What!” Taylor shouted. “What do you mean you can’t lock up Armand? What went wrong? Where is that undercover officer you had tracking my husband’s every move? Come on, give me something.”
“Well, we can’t find the officer right now, and I’m not sending any of my men to any of Armand’s locations, because I don’t want a brutality case. The governor is already on my ass, and without the Americans confessing anything, we have no case.”
Taylor sighed and looked at her freshly manicured nails. She rolled her eyes. “Well, what about the info me and the girls got for you? Will that bring Armand down? What about the meeting with Bruno Bello?”
“No. I’m sorry. The research I did on Bruno Bello proves that he is an extremely powerful man that can make any mountain of evidence disappear and show that he didn’t have anything to do with your husband. So no way I have a case with your husband.”
“Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!” Taylor was pissed off with a capital P.
Every time I try to get this bastard out of my life, he’s always six steps ahead of me. Damn, am I slipping? I need to step up my game.
“Taylor, baby, you there?” Duke asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Tired of hearing his idiotic voice, she threw her phone to the side. Frustrated, she removed a photo of Desmond from her briefcase. He was looking so edible. Taylor licked her lips. “Don’t worry, baby, we will be together soon.” She kissed the photo.
Beating the Odds Page 10