Jason’s eyes lit up and put his fist up for another bump.
“Lock and load, brother,” he said and led the way.
TEN
I’LL HAND IT TO JASON STARK—HE HAD THE TESTOSTERONE-INFUSED swagger you need for this place. As we walked through the throng of girls over to the other side, we both caught the attention of several of them.
“JoJo, my man!” said Jason as we reached the entrance to the large man’s skybox.
JoJo waved to his security guy, who allowed us in. More bro-hugs as Jason introduced me.
“Drinks here,” said JoJo. “Good stuff out back.”
JoJo Burley was at least three hundred pounds. He had tightly-curled hair that spread out from the top of his large oval-shaped head in long waves. I wondered if it could provide shelter from the elements.
I glanced toward the spot where JoJo gestured. The skyboxes on this side were not only twice the size, but also had a private suite in behind. I saw leather couches and a big-screen TV back there, as well as a glass table surrounded by people. They all seemed to be taking turns bending down. I couldn’t see, but I’d guess doing lines of coke.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m fine. Jason tells me you’re quite the TV star.”
“You a Gone fan?” JoJo said.
“Can’t say I ever saw it.”
“I respect you for that. Show sucked. It never allowed me to reach my true acting depth. I’ve been trying to get back on TV. I’m moving into producing. I have an idea for a reality show here in Miami.”
“Oh yeah?”
Jason appeared at my side, handed me a drink, and moved away. I took it and sipped. Pure vodka. Ouch, I’m headed for trouble.
“Yeah,” said JoJo. “It’s kind of like South Beach Tow meets The Apprentice meets The Bachelor. Twelve hot girls in skimpy outfits need to impress a billionaire by starting their own streetwise business—all while helping underprivileged children from the inner city. Winner gets to fuck the guy and save the kids. And get this—I’m calling it Miami Hotties. Yeah? You like it?”
I forced my eyebrows to rise like I was impressed.
“Interesting,” I said.
“You get it, right?” said JoJo. “‘Cause, you know, you’ve got Miami Heat. This would be Miami Hotties. Get it?”
“I get it. It’s brilliant. High concept.”
“Thanks, man.” He patted me on the back.
I caught the eye of a shiny guy staring at me. Latino, in a shiny red shirt. Everything about him was shiny. His skin, his eyes, his thick black hair that looked like a bike helmet.
Over to my right was Jake Preston making out with a blonde in a white dress on his right. Then, he turned to make out with a black girl in a red dress on his left.
“He’s doing well,” I said, hoping JoJo would take the bait.
“Aw, he always does well,” he said. “That’s my man T, short for Testarossa. Mango-Wango!”
I turned. Apparently the short black guy with bright green hair in a white pinstripe suit now entering the skybox was named Mango-Wango because he and JoJo bro-hugged while I took the opportunity to work my way over to Jake Preston.
I was halfway there when the shiny Latino guy stood in my way.
“I know you,” he said.
My brain scanned its database. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t exactly place the face.
“Titus,” I said with an outstretched hand.
“The bartender at that shit bar,” he said without shaking my hand. Then, he turned to his right and spit.
Ah, now I remember. He came into Cap’n Jack’s one night with three Cuban guys, one who is a regular. He and another guy started harassing some girls from Ohio.
I had interceded, ending up punching his friend in the face. Shiny guy had stared me down, but our regular customer got between us and promised they would leave.
“What you doing here?” he said.
“Enjoying the SoBe nightlife,” I said and raised my glass, which only seemed to intensify his stare.
He looked over at JoJo and Mango-Wango. “You friends with JoJo?”
“We just met. Seems like a great guy.”
“You no belong here. You too old for this place.”
I had a flash of the joy I would feel as my fist met his chin, but I filled my head with more serene thoughts.
“I remember that night,” I said. “You’re lucky Juan got between us.”
“You are son of a whore,” he said.
“Eddie!” said Jason, appearing out of nowhere. “Eddie, meet Titus. Titus, this is Eddie Corrado. Eddie, this is my man Titus.”
“We already meet,” said Eddie Corrado. “You friends with this mama pinga?”
“Titus is cool, man,” said Jason, massaging Eddie’s shoulders. “He’s cool.”
“No, he is not cool. He a hijo de puta.”
Another turn and spit. His signature move, apparently.
“Hey, Eddie,” Jason said, shooting me a shared look. “Come on, man. Is Martika here? The one you were telling me about? The one with the fine ass?”
He eased Eddie away from me with a wink. I sipped my drink and continued toward Jake Preston.
Jake was mid-makeout, his tongue deep down a new girl’s throat, another one waiting her turn on his other side, when I approached him.
“Jake Preston,” I said.
He shook his head like he needed to clear some clouds away just to hear me.
Then he regained his sense of place and looked at me. Up close, he was picture perfect cool. Longish wavy auburn hair with expensively foiled blond streaks. A shark-tooth pendant and another one with some numbers on it hung over his skimpy hairless chest.
“Have we met?” he said in a slow voice that intoned supreme control, yet stoned and high at the same time. So suave, so cool, so the man. The girls ignored me, one taking to his neck and the other nibbling on his ear.
“My name’s Titus,” I said. “I’m looking for Allie Hayes.”
He froze, expressionless, and stayed like that for what felt like a century as the girls kept up their work. His eyes flickered.
“Who?” he said.
“Allie Hayes,” I said. “I’m looking for Allie Hayes.”
After another pause he relaxed even more, so much that I thought he might dissolve completely.
“I don’t know any Allie whatever,” he said. “Do you know Allie whatever?” he said to the girl on his right. She shook her head and kissed him. He turned to the girl on his left and said, “Do you know Allie whatever?”
“No,” she said, shooting me a dirty look before she turned to suck on his tongue.
I turned to see Eddie Corrado talking with JoJo Burley. He was gesturing with his hands.
“Well,” I said, “Jake, we may have a problem. I know you know Allie Hayes and I’m going to find her.”
There was a long pause, and then he laughed.
“It’s a free country, man,” he said. “Do whatever makes you happy. Good luck. I wish you the best.”
This was obviously getting me nowhere. I felt the buzz of the drinks.
“I’ll find her,” I said.
He pretended not to hear me as he chomped on the blonde. I walked away and headed out back, past the cokeheads, and into the men’s room. There was an empty stall on the far left where I unzipped.
I had finished and was about to flush when I felt a presence behind me. Before I knew it, there was the feel of cold steel on my neck.
“Hola, mama pinga,” said Eddie Corrado and spat in my ear. “I not know what you up to, but I kill you if you show your face anywhere near my friend JoJo again. You leave now.”
I’ve handled guys like Eddie Corrado hundreds of times, but it’s been a while. I was unprepared. I should have known he would try this. I must be getting soft to allow him to get this close to me in the men’s room with a knife in his right hand at my throat.
No biggie, though. Guys like Eddie think they know what they’re doing but most don�
��t go up against guys with a lot of experience.
With both hands, I grabbed his right forearm and forced it downward from my throat to my chest, keeping it pressed tight against me. At the same time, I crouched forward and spun right, knocking him off balance as I ducked under his arm and turned around to face the other direction. His right arm was now twisted out in front of me, both my hands clasped tight onto it like a vise, the knife pointing off to the side on my left. I could have easily broken his arm, but thought I’d be nice to a lesser foe. I kept my grip on his wrist with my left hand as I punched him in the throat with my right. His right hand released the knife and it clattered onto the floor. He made a gurgling sound and gasped for air. I pushed him gently against the wall and he went down, ending up in a seated position on the floor under the paper towel dispenser. He breathed hard, trying to get air back into his windpipe.
“Dropped something,” I said as I picked up the knife, folded it, and tossed it near him. I got some paper towel out of the dispenser and walked to the sink.
“Eddie,” I said as I wet the paper towel and cleaned out my ear, “if you’re going to use a knife, learn some proper technique, okay? You might hurt yourself.”
He wheezed some more, holding onto the floor like he was going to fall off it.
I washed my hands and checked my hair in the mirror. I walked over to the dispenser, took some more paper towel, and dried my hands. I walked back to the mirror, threw the paper towel in the trash, and straightened my collar.
Eddie continued his gasping and gurgling.
“Have a nice night now,” I said as I walked out.
When I re-emerged onto JoJo’s skybox, some kind of shit had hit the fan. JoJo was talking to Tony V with a serious look on his face. Jason Stark was off to the side with Bri, who waved at me with a smile. Jason shrugged and gave me a look that said I-don’t-know-what-happened, dude.
Sash, ever determined, clamped herself onto my right arm.
“We found you,” she said.
“Can’t fool you,” I said.
Tony V and JoJo turned to face me as we approached. JoJo gave me a hard look that he had likely used on TV. I don’t sense another bro-hug coming from him.
Tony V put his arm around me, steering me and my attached glittery blue shadow toward the back room.
“Titus,” he said, “I have no idea what’s going on up here, nor do I need to know. But I have to ask you to—”
“It’s okay, Tony,” I said. “I’m leaving.”
“I appreciate that, man. Some people around here are a little sensitive. It’s not your fault. I respect the shit out of Paulie.”
“It’s all good. You did me a favor. Thanks.”
I looked back at Jason Stark, now busy making out with Bri. Axel appeared out of nowhere.
“Axel will escort you out the back,” said Tony V.
“Okay,” I said.
I turned to see Eddie Corrado, still breathing with difficulty. He glared at me and I met his stare.
“Please,” said Axel, motioning toward the exit.
I started walking, and then remembered I still have a girl hitched to me. I tried removing her, but both her arms clung mine like a serpent wrapped around a tree trunk.
“I’m going with you,” Sash said.
“Now, Sash,” I said, “I don’t think that such a—”
“I’m going with you!”
Okay, fine. I figured I’d get her tucked into a cab outside to take her away and home. We walked out a door, down a set of stairs, and out a side door into the hot night.
Somehow, the relief of being away from the over-the-top world of Sinz caused the vodka to hit me full force. As we walked, I silently cursed myself for not getting to Jake Preston. But I did find out some valuable information, maybe something I can use.
I rolled this over and over in my head as I walked home, completely forgetting to tuck Sash into a cab. Then I rolled everything over and over in my head again on my airbed in my dinky little apartment with her.
ELEVEN
MY EYES SHOT OPEN AT A SCUFFLING SOUND. I WAS face-to-face with my tiny lizard buddy. The sky was light, but the sun wasn’t up yet. My head pounded.
My buddy lingered a tad longer than usual today, seemingly dumbstruck at the naked girl asleep on my airbed.
Don’t blame him.
Shit. Did I? I did, didn’t I? Oh God, how could I have let this happen?
I leaned up and reached for my phone to check the time. 6:15 a.m. The room took a spin. Still somewhat drunk. Great.
Things got hazy after leaving Sinz. There was some walking, some talking, and a whole lot of soft and warm sweaty wonderfulness here afterward.
I quietly got up, steadying myself as the room twirled again. It stopped. I picked up Sash’s flimsy blue dress and panties from the floor. I hung them on the plastic chair. Then I showered and dressed, being careful not to stare at the naked girl. Which I did anyway.
Shit.
I went to the coffeemaker and opened up the coffee container only to discover I was out. Forgot to get some yesterday.
Shit shit shit.
I threw on some clothes, retrieved my revolver from the stash spot, and quietly went out.
I considered walking to Dunkin’ Donuts over on Alton Road, but I wasn’t sure I’d live that long. I went to my emergency Starbucks on Washington Ave at 12th Street, which was much closer.
I bought two large iced coffees and immediately downed the first one. Not as awful with ice. The second was for Sash, but she’d probably be asleep for a while and I needed some time to think so I stuck the straw in it and walked two blocks to the beach.
Ocean Drive in the morning is unrecognizable from Ocean Drive at night. Elderly women with fanny packs speed-walked the pink sidewalk. The smell of bagels, muffins, and bacon swirled with the salty air. Bicyclists leisurely pedaled by. No exotic cars. No thumping bass. No long lines. I almost liked it.
I crossed the park, passing several homeless people sleeping in the shadows of palm trees. I sat on the same stone wall that I leaned on just a few hours ago, only a few blocks south.
I fired up a cigarette and sipped my coffee, trying to kick-start my brain while staring at the iconic Art Deco buildings. One of them was where Al Pacino carved a guy up with a chainsaw in Scarface, but I forget which one.
I forced myself to slowly replay the events from Sinz. My thoughts drifted from Tony V to Jason Stark to JoJo Burley to Eddie Corrado, but they all blended together to form a confusing vodka-tinged swamp.
I blanked my mind and sipped some coffee.
In the meantime, what do I do about the naked girl in my bed? Most guys my age would consider themselves lucky, but I feel like a dirty old man. How I allowed that to happen is beyond me. I have no idea how to handle this. Will she want breakfast? It’s been years since I’ve been in this situation. I really fucked up.
What would Ariel say? Truth is, I haven’t touched another woman since she died. It’s almost like the thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
No, that’s wrong. The night I arrived here in Miami, Sofia’s face above her badge and uniform lit by flashing lights as she peered down into my driver’s side window. Yeah, I thought about it that night.
I shook my head, stubbed out my cigarette, and lit another one. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the ocean behind me. Then, I heard footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the sound.
Like he heard my need to confess, there was the Reverend Luther Williams. Running toward me in a black skull cap, blue running shorts, a white tank top, and incredibly large fluorescent green and white Nikes, his carved trapezius muscles glistening in the sunrise glow. He slowed as he saw me sitting on the wall, his good eye expanding wide.
“Well, I’ll be,” he said as he slowed to stop and placed his hands on his hips. “You following me?”
“You following me?” I said.
“Now why in hell I be following you?”
I sipped and smoked, my head still pounding.
“It’s a sign,” he said. “Meet a traveler on the road, and if his heart is true in his quest for light, you will meet again before the sun sets twice.”
I blew out some smoke. “That’s in the Bible?”
“No, Book of Luther, chapter five, verse ten. Translates to ‘there ain’t no coincidences.’”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, holding up the half-empty cup. “Coffee?”
“Devil’s juice,” he said, shaking his head. “So what you up to this fine morning, Brother Titus?”
“Trying to remember which building was the one in Scarface.”
Luther turned and pointed. “CVS over there.”
“You’re shitting me,” I said. “It’s a fucking drugstore now?”
“Tony Montana be proud. You want to run with me?”
I exhaled a large plume of smoke. “Do I look like I’m in any condition to run? It’s painful to even look at you.”
“You do somewhat resemble a rodent who been dragged through a sewer.”
“‘Bout right,” I said. “Needed to walk, think. Went to Sinz last night.”
His eyebrows rose. “Kiddie Land let you in? You too tall for those rides.”
“I was a special guest of Tony V, the owner, friend of a friend. Found out some info. Jake Preston likes to party at Hinraker’s.”
“Morton Hinraker,” said Luther as he leaned on the wall and folded his arms.
“Is there anybody in Miami Beach you don’t know?”
“No. Go on.”
“So apparently,” I said, “this Hinraker owns a big mansion on the water and has sex parties out there. My question is, where does Allie Hayes fit in with all this?”
“You asked me about porn yesterday,” Luther said. “That’s how Hinraker made his fortune. Backed several companies then got out before it went sour. Now he an upstanding Miami citizen, a noble humanitarian who runs charitable organizations and dines with politicians while smoking big cigars at thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraisers.”
“Politicians, huh? Did I mention Allie’s dad is running for Senate?”
Miami Burn Page 7