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At any given time, Rafael kept twelve to eighteen girls between the ages of eighteen and thirty. All were Hispanic. Most spoke English fluently, and only a few didn’t know enough English to converse. A few were from Latin countries, but most were born and raised in South Florida. They were poor, had gotten into drugs, and were walking the streets when Rafael found them.
Northwest 79th street from Hialeah to Biscayne Boulevard was home to many gentleman’s clubs. The opulence varied from club to club, as did the clientele. The clubs ran the spectrum, from upscale to sleazy. All the clubs featured total nudity, VIP rooms, and over-priced drinks. Rafael’s girls worked at Polecatz and Lickety Splitz, two clubs on the sleazy end of the spectrum. Neither of these clubs could be referred to as a “gentleman’s club.” strip joint or tittie bar would be a kind description.
There were currently thirteen girls in Rafael’s stable, but sixteen was his preferred number. Easy to handle and keep track of. Four per spare bedroom in his house. He still had not replaced the two girls who ran off with the frat boys – two of his better producers – and another who’d become worn and was not producing for him. Last he had heard, she was walking the streets in South Miami.
Finding young talent had become more complicated. Rafael wished he’d kept the one girl on until he’d found a suitable replacement. A little income was better than no income. On a weekend night, each girl could generate over a thousand dollars in tips. During the week, the average take was half that. On any given night, one girl might snare a generous mark and bring in several thousand dollars.
Rafael would collect the girl’s tips. Any girl caught holding out would face serious consequences. He would kick a portion back to the club managers – payment for letting him place his girls in their clubs. He’d give the girls a small percent and keep the rest. “Room, board, and drugs,” he’d call it. According to Rafael, the latter was why the girls got such a small amount of their tips. Most girls didn’t complain, as the steady supply of crystal meth, crack cocaine, or heroin was all they cared about.
“Let’s get them going,” Rafael barked at his men. “It’s time. I got plans upstairs when you get outta here.”
Twelve girls were loaded into two SUVs, each driven by one of Rafael’s men. One girl, the one who had taken pizza to Jana, was staying behind. She’d been busted for solicitation a few days earlier when she had offered an undercover vice officer a blowjob for a fee. It was an occupational hazard. Because she spoke no English, the Spanish-speaking cop had more or less tricked her into soliciting him. The English-speaking girls were well-trained on how to offer sex for money without actually asking. Getting busted didn’t happen often, but it happened. When it did, the girl would lay low a few weeks. Her service would be limited to Rafael and his guys. She’d also be the cook, if needed, and maid. Cleaning four toilets used by fifteen people was a good incentive to learn how to solicit without actually soliciting.
Typically, two men would take the girls to the club. They’d stay, watch the action and get an idea of how much each girl was making. When the club closed, they’d bring the girls home. Rafael would count the earnings, and any significant discrepancies in earnings and expected earnings were discussed in-depth. Most girls learned early on not to try and hold out. It was not healthy.
The men didn’t need to stay. Often, they’d leave around midnight and return at five a.m. to pick the girls up. Twelve hours a day, seven days a week in a strip joint could get tiresome. Since the four girls had managed to sneak off and work a cruise, Rafael insisted the men stay at the clubs and keep an eye on the girls.
Six of the girls were going to Polecatz and six to Lickety Splitz. The lone remaining girl disappeared into her room, hoping Rafael had Jana on his mind and not her.
Rafael went to his bedroom. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair before dropping his knee-length shorts to inspect himself. “Could use a trim. Ah, she won’t mind,” he said, laughing loudly.
He left his room and walked up the hall. When he reached the base of the stairs, he noticed someone standing in the shadow. Thinking it was one of his men, he asked, “What’d you forget?”
“The money, asshole. Where is it?” A man in a mask was pointing a large caliber semi-automatic pistol at him.
“What the fuck?” Rafael screamed. “I ain’t got no money.” When he saw the two other men, both wearing masks and holding large guns, he held up his hands.
“Bullshit. We know you got money. Give it up, or we blow your head off.”
“Okay. Hang on. I got some. You can have it.”
“Search the house,” the man pointing the gun at Rafael said. “Look for witnesses. We don’t need no witnesses. Look for guns, drugs, money, whatever you can find.” He looked back at Rafael. “I know you got lots of cash. Where is it?”
Rafael kept a few thousand dollars in cash in a desk drawer in his bedroom. He had a few hundred thousand in a large safe in the closet. He was hoping that if he gave the masked intruders a few thousand, they’d take it and leave. “The money’s back here. You can take it.”
As the two walked down the hall, one of the other men came out of a room with the young Hispanic girl. “Looky what I found.”
“Bring her,” the man who appeared to be the leader said as he followed Rafael into the bedroom.
“Leave the girl alone. I’ll give you the money.” Rafael pulled a few plain white envelopes out of the desk drawer. “Here, that’s all the cash I’ve got.”
The man looked in the envelopes. The cash was mostly one-hundred-dollar bills with a few twenties mixed in. “That’s less than two grand.” He popped Rafael in the forehead with his gun’s barrel. “Sit on the bed.” He pointed at the girl. “You too.”
“She doesn’t speak English,” Rafael explained, holding his head. In Spanish, he told the girl to sit.
“You want to tell me where the money is or should—”
“There’s a big safe here in the closet,” one of the other two men said.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. We going to do this easy-like? You going to open it?”
“No need,” the other man said. “It’s open. Look at all that cash. Damn. There’s a gun and several bags too. Probably drugs.”
“Take it all.”
The man in the closet produced a black plastic garbage bag from his pocket and started filling it with money and drugs from the safe.
The third man appeared at the door. “Look what I found. She was locked in a room upstairs.”
The leader looked at Jana. “Son of a bitch, turn her around.”
The man spun Jana around once.
“Nice. She’s mine.” The leader pointed to the Hispanic girl sitting on the bed. “You two can have that one. Tie this asshole up and let’s get out of here. Take his phone too.”
Jana looked at Rafael. “You just going to let them take me?”
Rafael looked as if he was about to cry.
Jana screamed, “You fucking pussy. You’re the pussy, bitch!”
Muffled laughter came from the three masked men. Jana twisted hard to her left, breaking free of the man’s grasp. She brought her knee up into his hip, missing his groin by inches, and bolted for the front door.
The man who’d been holding her caught and tackled her. “That was close, babe. Good thing you missed.” He grabbed her by the arm and the back of her neck and lifted her to her feet. “Behave, girl. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Okay, I won’t fight,” she said. The man’s grip was tight. She knew he could hurt her if she fought. She had taken the one chance to escape and it hadn’t worked. Now she’d likely be taken and abused by the man who called her “his.” He or Rafael, one would be as unpleasant as the other. At least the masked man might release her when he’d finished with her.
The other two masked men came out of the bedroom, one carrying the filled plastic bag, the other leading the Hispanic girl by the arm. The leader said, “He’s tied up. He ain’t going anywhere. Let’s go.”
The three men led the two girls out to a large Nissan Titan pickup in front of the house. The leader opened the door, motioned for the Hispanic girl to get in. He climbed in next, a firm grip on Jana, who he pulled in behind him. “Close the door,” he said. The two other men got in the front seat, the bag of cash and drugs between them.
“Go!” the man in the backseat yelled. The Titan roared as it shot into traffic. The driver made a few turns before he pulled up behind a Chevy Traverse parked on the side of the road.
“Out,” the man told Jana. “Come on,” he told the other girl in Spanish. She quietly obeyed.
When everyone had moved from the truck into the Traverse, the men removed their masks.
“We’re in. Let’s go,” the leader said to the driver. “Great job, guys. It looks like a nice haul.” He looked at Jana. “Extremely nice haul.”
Jana wished she hadn’t removed the GPS tracking device from her vagina.