|
|
|
Jana parked her Alfa Romeo 4C Spider, scurried down the dock, up the gangway, through the door of the main salon, and past Reymundo. “I gotta pee. Be right back.”
A few minutes later, she emerged from the head much more relaxed. “Damn, I should’ve gone at the lawyer’s office, but he escorted me out and I didn’t want to go back in to find a restroom.”
“How’d it go?” Reymundo asked.
“Interesting for sure. What time is it?” Jana had paced from the salon to the bar and back.
Reymundo checked his watch “One-thirty. You were there a while.”
“Lunchtime. Past lunch. I’m having a beer. Want one?”
“S—sure,” Reymundo said, confused as to why she was having a beer for lunch.
Jana handed him a beer then flopped onto the couch and crossed her legs under herself. “You like living on the boat?”
Reymundo wondered how she could be so cavalier when she knew the lawyers had figured out a way to take his boat. “Shit. They’re taking my boat? What the fuck?”
“It sounds like I’m beginning to rub off on you.”
“This isn’t funny. How can they do that?”
“Calm down, sweetie.” Jana glanced around the main salon. “They’re not taking the boat.”
“Jesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me. Why’d you ask if I like living on it?” Reymundo walked over and sat on the couch.
“You want the shit scared out of you, just wait until you hear what happened.” Jana guzzled the beer. “I’m still in shock.”
“Baby, you aren’t making any sense.”
Jana put her hand on Reymundo’s and squeezed. “I know. I’m still trying to process it.”
“Maybe I can help. Let’s go one step at a time. They didn’t figure out a way to take the boat, right?”
“Right.”
“What about your car? Did they take it?” Reymundo looked out the aft deck doors toward the spot where Jana normally parked her Alfa.
“Nope.”
Reymundo made one lap around the main salon then walked back to the couch. “So, we’re good?”
“Yep. Robert never signed the divorce papers.”
“What? You’re still married?” Reymundo stood up and again paced the length of the salon.
“Technically, I’m widowed.”
“That makes sense. He’s dead now. Divorced, widowed, as long as you’re available, I’m okay with either.” Reymundo sighed and sat down again.
Jana giggled. “I think you’re going to like being in a relationship with a widow compared to a divorcée.”
Reymundo snuggled up to her. “Why’s that? Are widowed women more amorous than divorced women?”
“Nope. Well, maybe, but they’re way fucking richer.”
“Richer? That’s cool. You mean you came out with more than you went in with?”
Jana nodded vigorously. “Yeah, you could say I came out with more than I went in with. I came out with everything.”
“Everything?” Reymundo leaned back into the couch and stared at the far wall, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. Everything didn’t mean anything to him. He knew Jana’s ex had money, but he had no idea how much. He was just relieved he didn’t lose his boat. At the moment, nothing else mattered.
“Yep. He hadn’t signed the divorce papers, hadn’t changed his will or insurance policies. I got everything, uh...what’s the term? Lock, stock, and barrel?” Jana buried her head in Reymundo’s chest to stifle her excitement.
“You mean you got the house? That’s why you asked if I liked living on the boat. We can move into his house?”
Jana gulped the last of her beer and jumped up to grab another. Reymundo’s was still full. When she returned with the fresh beer, she straddled her boyfriend and put her arm around him.
“We can go live in our house,” she said, giving him a long, deep kiss. “Hmm, maybe widowed women are more amorous. You want to go downstairs?”
“Of course. Always.”
As they strolled toward the owner’s cabin, Jana said, “You didn’t ask how much I’m getting.”
Reymundo shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s any of my business.”
“Hundo p, it’s your business.” Jana pushed Reymundo onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She leaned close to his face and whispered, “One-hundred million fucking dollars.”
Reymundo pushed Jana up by the shoulders and looked at her. “Are you serious? One-hundred million dollars?”
“Give or take a couple of mil. Now, shut up and make love to me.”
Their afternoon delight proved to be quite intense. Reymundo performed admirably. He determined that thinking about a hundred million dollars was better than thinking about baseball.
“God, that was incredible,” he said after he caught his breath. “I think I like widowed women.”
“I hope you mean woman. Widowed woman, singular,” Jana said, a playful ‘go to hell’ look in her eyes.
“No doubt about it.”
“That’s good. You know, now that I’m a rich widow, if you cheat on me, I’ll dump you so fast...”
“If I’m ever stupid enough to cheat on you, please take me out in the Atlantic, tie a chain around me, and dump me overboard. I deserve to spend eternity with Rafael.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You should too. Speaking of Rafael...”
“I’d rather not.”
“Hear me out,” she said. “On the way home from the firm, I decided we should take some of the money and open a shelter for trafficked and exploited women.”
Reymundo sat up. “That’s a fantastic idea. In a way, we’ve already started one.”
“How do you mean?”
“Miggy’s using some of the money to help the girls he took from Rafael. He gave Nestor money to pay rent on the house where they’re staying and for food and stuff. Help them get back on their feet, so they don’t have to work at strip clubs.”
Jana glared at him. “I worked at a strip club.”
“I know, my love. You know that’s not what I meant. We’ve talked about this. Okay, working as a dancer is fine if it’s their decision. When I say it like it’s bad, I’m talking about girls like Rafael’s who were forced into it, the ones who had to do more than dance.”
“As long as we’re clear. There are worse jobs than being a dancer in a strip club. Hell, the last year or so that I was married to Rob was worse than working at a strip club. I’m sure more women are abused by husbands than are abused at a gentleman’s club.”
“We’re clear. Hey, did we just have our first fight?”
“Nah, a slight disagreement over your choice of words. What do they call it? Um, there’s a word. I can’t remember it. Like when you say tomato and I say tom-aaa-to.”
“Next time I’m referring to the exploited girls, I’ll say ‘tom-aaa-to’ instead of dancer.”
“Not a good choice.”
“Just kidding, my little tomato.” Reymundo slapped his knee and laughed.
“Very funny. But I’m serious. That’s what I want to do with some of the money. A big chunk of the money. By the way, have you ever heard of a Ferrari, three-something GT, or GTO?”
“No, why?”
“Evidently, I own one...or a portion of one.”
“A portion, like the tires or just the seats?”
“Haha. No, Jimmy said Rob and three others bought it. It’s worth close to fifty million.”
“Dollars? Jesus.” Reymundo squeezed his eyes shut, unable to comprehend that amount of money.
“That’s what I said. If I can sell my share, we can use the money for a shelter for girls. The money should last a long time.”
“I’ll say. Miggy giving Nestor money to help the girls was nice. You’re talking serious bucks. I think we’re going to need help.”
“I know.” She ran her fingers over the freckles on Reymundo’s chest as if she were connecting the dots. “But I don’t want the money going to executives or lawyers. I want it to go to the girls. The money should be for their benefit.”
“I’m not a businessman, but I bet together, you and I can make sure it runs right, at least for a while. We have a start in Nestor. I trust him. I think he’d be happy running a shelter, or whatever you want to call it for girls...women like Rafael’s. We can keep an eye on him too. When Rafael’s old house is full, we rent or buy another. As long as one person isn’t too messed up, they can run the house. Nestor, or someone like him, can check on them.”
“Nestor would be like an employee?”
“Sure, he has to make a living. He and Barbara, the girl he likes, make a great team.”
“I like what you’re saying. Go on.”
“There’s going to be legal stuff. We’re going to need a lawyer. I think we need one who can help make any girls who’ve been smuggled in legal. I’d hate for any of those four I brought in sent back to Cuba.”
“Good point. I agree. It sounds like Nestor may take care of one of them for us.”
“How do you mean? Oh, yeah, he could marry her. I bet he’d be happy with that arrangement.”
Jana held Reymundo tight. “This makes me feel good. I hope we can do this.”
“Me too. I see no reason we can’t.”
“Me either.” She raised herself to look at Reymundo. “What about the other girls? The ones you left in Houston.”
“Man, it would be great if we could get them, at least some of them. Bring them here and help them start the lives they were expecting when they left Cuba.”
“You need to call that PI, ask if he found them.”
“I do. So much has happened in the last day, I forgot about them. God, I wonder if those poor girls still have the GPS trackers in their, um, you know...”
“I know, believe me. Why don’t you call him? I’m going up to see what I can find to eat. You hungry?”
Reymundo nodded and opened the small nightstand drawer next to the bed. The card for Alexander Christian, Private Investigator, was next to his phone. He picked up the phone and punched in the number.
Jana walked into the galley. She checked the small pantry and found cans of Vienna sausages, refried beans, and a large jar of peanut butter. She gagged at the sight of her lunch options and ordered a pizza instead. She opened a beer and walked out to the aft deck where she leaned back in the canvas deckchair. Putting her feet on top of the transom, she spent the next thirty minutes thinking about her life and the turn it just took.
“Ahoy,” a kid standing on the dock yelled. “Are you Jana?”
“I am. I’ll be right down.”
Jana grabbed the money she’d laid out and met the pizza delivery boy on the dock. She handed him two twenty-dollar bills for the twenty-three-dollar check and waited as the boy dug for change.
“Fuck!” she yelled, realizing she could afford to give a seventeen-dollar tip.
The pizza deliverer jumped and took a step backward. “I...I’m sorry. I have your change. Just a sec...”
“No, no, no, that wasn’t meant for you. I’m sorry. Please keep the change.”
“Thank you, ma’am!” He turned and hurried away before the crazy lady could change her mind.
“Ma’am?” She shook her head and carried the pizza inside.
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized how long it had been since she left Reymundo to make his phone call. She stuck her head inside the cabin door. “I ordered a pizza. It’s here.”
Reymundo was sitting on the bed, leaning against the bulkhead and staring at the wall, expressionless.
“What is it, sweetie? What’s wrong?”
A grin lit up his face. “The girl that jumped off the boat after Gorgonio raped her. She’s alive.”
“What?” Jana exclaimed, her mouth agape.
“The private investigator. He’s a PI, but he wasn’t working a case. Turns out he found the girl, her name is May, floating off a beach in Bolivar. He saved her. She paid to be on the boat because her sister was on one a few months back. When May didn’t hear from her sister, she got on the boat to try and find her. What tenacity. She had no idea where to begin to look for her sister, but she got on a boat and hoped for the best. Then she’s raped, and she jumps off the boat, afraid she’ll be killed.”
“So the PI found her, and he’s been helping her find her sister. That’s why he was asking about the boat?”
“Yeppers. He’d been checking escorts ads, massage parlors, and bars known for having prostitutes, but he wasn’t finding any Cuban women. The GPS trackers led him right to where they were.”
“That’s fantastic! But come upstairs, pizzas getting cold. You can finish the story while we eat.”
With new cold beers and pizza, Reymundo finished relaying the conversation with the private investigator from Texas. “That PI went to one of the bars the tracker had pinged from. He was talking to a woman when some guy started beating on a girl. He got pissed, slapped the dude around a bit, and took both the girls.”
“You’re kidding. Damn, seems to be a lot of that going on lately.”
“Not enough. The girl that was getting beat on was in bad shape. They’d beat her, drugged her, raped her, and she still refused to work for them. She was not going to be a prostitute. The other girl he had been talking to was a prostitute. He invited her to come with him, and she did. It seems he’s already smitten by her.”
“A lot of that happening too.” Jana winked at Reymundo.
“I don’t know. Mine was a dancer.”
“Too many people think they are the same.”
“Too many ignorant people in this world.”
“Go on,” Jana said.
“So...um...he took the girls back to his place. The girl from the boat, May, wasn’t home when they got there. When she came back, she sees the girl and starts freaking out. The beat-up girl was her sister! What are the odds?”
“No way. That’s incredible. Is she okay?”
“It’s only been a day, but he said she was doing well. She was going through withdrawal from the heroin they’d been shooting in her, and she’d been starved, but he said she was strong-willed and should be fine.”
“I’d say she’s strong-willed. Her and her sister. That’s quite a family.”
“Aren’t they? I asked about getting the rest of the girls out. He’s going to talk to some of his buddies at the FBI. Did I tell you he was a retired FBI agent?”
“You didn’t.”
“I told him it would be nice to keep all those Cuban girls, all the girls who were forced into having sex, from being deported. He was going to try to make a deal with someone but didn’t know what would happen to them. I told him we might be able to take the girls. We have shelters. I hope I didn’t jump the gun. He said he thinks this group could easily have a hundred or more women enslaved.”
“We’ll handle them. Every single one,” Jana said.
“That’s what I told him. He said he hopes he can convince various agencies to guarantee the girls’ well-being before they raid the bars. I hope he can pull it off.”
“He sounds like a great guy. I hope we can meet him someday.”
“Right. I’d like to see May again too. I talked to her a couple of times. She was a good kid. I don’t know if it would mean much, but I’d like to apologize to her.”
“I bet it would mean a lot. But why was she still on the boat? She didn’t get off with the others?”
“I’m not sure how she got on the boat. She convinced someone in Cuba to let her come along. She’s a chubby girl. Not bargirl material. At least not what the guys picking them up were looking for. I think Gorgonio told them about her when he called to give them our ETA and they didn’t want her. I was going to bring her back to Miami and drop her off, figuring she’d be better off here. I wish she’d told me she was looking for her sister in Houston. I would have let her off at the fuel dock. But then Gorgonio raped her and told her he was going to kill her. That’s when she jumped.”
“What’s crazy is, had all that not happened as it did, the PI would not have found her, and she probably wouldn’t have found her sister.”
“That’s so true. I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.”
Jana wanted to know every detail of the conversation Reymundo had with Alexander. She was particularly interested in how he hoped to get the authorities to raid the bars, so she wasn’t happy when Reymundo told her he didn’t have any specifics. According to Alex, it was a work in progress.
Jana wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I’ll call Jimmy, our lawyer, tomorrow. Maybe he can help. We need to have some houses ready for the girls and people to be...I don’t know what you call them. Caretakers, maybe?”
“And I’ll go see Nestor. Tell him our plans and ask him if he thinks he can handle it. We need to be ready.”
“We will be. They say money can buy anything.”
“Except happiness,” Reymundo suggested.
“That’s a fucking lie.”