Chapter 7
“The young diamond princess always has been easily shaken.”
—Aries
Miamor knew Aries well enough to know that when the time was right she would make her presence known. After Breeze’s spotting Miamor decided not to call her old friend, but instead to give her room to work. What the hell do you have up your sleeve Aries? Miamor wondered. She looked at the text message she had received from an undisclosed sender. Anonymity did little to hide the identity of the sender, it was Aries. As Miamor went to the place she used to call home so many memories flooded her system. Miamor was headed to her old condo in Miami. It was the one that she had sat in with all of her girls, including her sister, plotting in. It was the place where she had first realized that her love for Carter was real. It was familiar to Miamor and when she pulled in front of the building she smiled. It was nothing like the castle she lived in now, but at one time in her life it had been home. She left her car on the street and fed the meter before heading up. She was cautious because she feared being under the federal scope. She drove around in circles for at least an hour before heading to her true destination. She took the steps, an old habit from her hit-woman days. She never liked closed off spaces. Elevators left her vulnerable. She would rather go up and down a million stairs than to be a sitting duck in a confined space. Her calfs burned until she conquered the fifteen flights that led to her old doorstep. A light sweat had formed under her clothes and she gave herself a moment to still her racing heart.
“It’s a lot of steps right?”
Aries voice echoed in the stairwell causing Miamor to spin around. Aries was one flight above her. She was the only other person in the world who would have opted for the hard route. They were one in the same.
“Bitch I should have known,” Miamor said. “Now you mind filling me in on how you weaseled your way inside the P.A.’s office? You nearly sent Breeze on a tirade after she bumped into your ass. Thanks for the heads up!”
“The young diamond princess always has been easily shaken,” Aries recalled. “Let’s go inside, I’ll explain everything. I think I have something that can help you.”
Miamor watched as Aries unlocked the door and walked inside. The apartment was white walls and white carpet; bare with the exception of a blow-up mattress that filled the space.
“What made you decide to help me?” Miamor asked.
Aries placed her hands on her wide hips and shrugged. “I knew your crazy ass would have tried to do it yourself if I didn’t help. Through it all Miamor you are my sister. We are the only ones left.”
“Where’s your son?” Miamor asked.
“Somewhere safe,” Aries said shortly. “I’m not here to stay. I will never move him to the place where I have done so much dirt. Once the job is finished I’m going back into the shadows.”
“Understood,” Miamor replied. “How did you get a job at the prosecuting attorney’s office?”
Aries reached into her skintight jean pockets. They hugged her thighs so snugly that her hand barely fit into the pockets. She pulled an ID badge out and handed it to Miamor. “Shit I don’t work for the prosecuting attorney. I snagged an ID badge, clipped it to my shirt, and walked in the building like it was home. There are so many interns running around there; fetching coffee and making copies that no one even batted an eye. They just think I’m another face to do their odd jobs and make lunch runs.”
“You are a bold bitch Aries, I’ll give you that. If one finger print is traced . . .”
“It won’t be. I’m careful,” she asserted.
Aries pulled out her phone and opened her email. “I’ve been around the office for a few weeks now and at first I couldn’t find anything. The fact that Broome was so squeaky clean is what made me determined to keep digging. Nobody has no dirt. There is always something. A cheating spouse, a kid or parent on dope . . . your homeboy Broome was pulling up too clean.”
“So how does this help me?” Miamor asked, impatient.
“I started clocking his movement, his emails, his calendar and on Thursdays at 4:00 p.m. there is a firm meeting he leaves the office to attend. I logged into the system with his ID but I couldn’t get an idea of who he was meeting, so I followed him,” she said. Aries went into the hall closet and retrieved a leather MCM back pack. She removed a DSLR camera, unscrewed the expensive lens, and then passed the body to Miamor. “Flip through the pictures,” she instructed. “You know who that is?”
Miamor went through the still images. “I can’t tell. You don’t have any of his face. Is he gay? He’s meeting with his lover? I don’t understand . . .” She kept moving the images until finally, Timmy “Two Time” Bono appeared on the screen.
“He’s meeting with the mob,” Miamor whispered as her brow furrowed and her fingers clicked the buttons anxiously, while she gripped the camera tightly. She was speeding through the pictures so fast that they began to play in front of her like a movie. Broome was passing Timmy Bono a stuffed, yellow, envelope but before she could inquire about the contents the next flick showed Timmy Bono pulling money out and thumbing through it.
“Are they paying him off for a case?” Miamor asked.
“He’s placing bets,” Aries said. “He’s into horse racing bad.”
“How can you be sure?” Miamor asked with a gasp and a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Gamblers have a language of their own. My husband used to gamble. If you sit back and listen they don’t talk about favorite sports teams, they focus on the numbers. The over, unders, the spreads. They talk about the breed of a horse, its bloodline. I know an addict when I see one. Timmy Bono is the biggest Italian gangster in Florida. He retired here from Chicago. He’s not into the drug scene, but he’s head of the largest underground gambling ring on the East coast. Everybody places bets with him. Athletes, actresses, rappers, and apparently prosecuting attorneys.”
“The question is what is he betting on?” Miamor asked.
“The races,” Aries replied, matter-of-factly. “The Kentucky Derby is coming up and he’s preparing to put it all on the line. I told you. He’s got a bad itch for horses.”
“Than let’s put him in a position where he has everything to lose,” Miamor whispered as she painted a beautiful picture of deception in her head.
* * *
The smell of money laced with cigar smoke and manure filled the air. Elaborate hats with feathers and jewels sat atop the heads of the women in attendance and everyone had brought out their finest wears. Aries and Miamor blended with the eclectic crowd. They didn’t want to gain attention so they kept their presence demure.
“The entire front row around the entire track is big fish,” Aries schooled. “Mostly Asian. They always have the most money in the pot.”
“This shit is unreal,” Miamor said as she looked around the massive track. She had thought the Miami championship crowds were thick. The entire city came out whenever the popular team played, but the entire world seemed to show up for the derby. She bumped into so many people that her shoulder was beginning to feel sore. Miamor had to check her temper and keep a level head. Everything is riding on today, she thought.
Inside of her Birkin she had an envelope filled with 75k. More money than any stable hand would ever see at one time. Miamor was sure that this would get her next to Mona Lisa, the prize winning, legendary horse that Broome had placed $100,000 on. When Miamor found out that Broome was a gambling man, she knew she had him. The question was, how had he come up with such a hefty sum of cash to place the bet in the first place. After much digging, Aries discovered that Broome had borrowed the cash from the evidence locker in a federal case. His horse was what the gambling world would call a favorite. All of the odds fell in its favor. Once Broome collected his winnings he would be able to replace the cash while keeping fifty thousand that he had flipped in the race. The plan would have been foolproof had it not been detected. Now Miamor was about to ruin his life.
They were oblivious to the festivities. Miamor and Aries kept their eyes on the horses. They watched the jockeys. They watched the people behind the gates as a horse retired after its race. Their eyes caught everything, until finally Miamor chose her mark.
“Her,” she said with certainty.
“How do you know?” Aries asked.
“I just know,” Miamor said.
Aries had seen the determined look on Miamor’s face many times before and she trusted her friend’s intuition. She shrugged with indifference. “All right. Let’s do it.”
The duo waited for hours until they finally noticed the woman they had seen earlier at the track, emerging and headed toward the parking lot. Her long hair fell in one length past her middle back and was pulled into a sloppy ponytail. Her dirty clothes revealed the fact that she had worked closely with the horses all day. The woman slightly hunched over, her posture poor as she walked tiredly to her car.
“Follow her,” Miamor instructed Aries and like clockwork they pulled out of the parking lot right behind their mark. Miamor and Aries worked like two hands, one washed the other. It was as if they had fallen right back into their old ways. They were parts of a well-oiled machine. Their work was efficient and flawless. “Hurry, don’t lose her,” Miamor urged, anxiously.
They tailed her for half an hour before pulling across the street from a small blue house with worn shutters and peeling paint. The front screen door was hanging half way off the hinges, but the woman beamed gratefully as she got out of her car, as if she was going home to a palace.
Miamor waited until the woman placed her key in the lock before she exited her car. Aries looked left, Miamor right. The streets were bare. Cloaked in the night’s shadows, their identities were concealed. It was the perfect stage for treachery, but Miamor hoped that things played out smoothly. Miamor hurriedly walked up the walkway and just as the woman was pushing her door open, Miamor was forcing her inside.
“Agh!” the woman yelled startled.
“Shhh,” Miamor said as she cupped her mouth. “Is there anyone else inside this house?” she asked.
The woman’s eyes were filled with terror when Aries brandished her .45 while she looked around cautiously. She shook her head.
The home was barely the size of a small apartment and Aries checked it quickly. “No one is here,” she informed.
“Good, that’ll give us privacy to talk,” Miamor said. “I’m going to take my hand from over your mouth. You can’t scream. If you scream then my friend here is going to have to silence you . . . permanently. Nod your head if you understand me.”
The woman nodded frantically and Miamor let her go.
“What do you want? I’m a poor, old, woman, I don’t have anything of value,” she said.
“You have something that is of great value to me,” Miamor said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to offer my help in return for yours.”
The woman stood clutching herself as her eyes danced back and forth between Miamor and Aries.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” she stammered.
“Please sit,” Miamor said. The woman did as she was told while fear corrupted her heart.
“You have access to the horses in tomorrow’s 6:00 p.m. race,” Miamor started.
The woman nodded nervously.
“I need the Mona Lisa sabotaged and I’m willing to pay $75,000 for your assistance,” Miamor said bluntly.
Flabbergasted the woman immediately shook her head. “I . . . I can’t . . . I could never . . . I love those horses.”
Miamor looked down at the stack of bills on the entry table. “It looks like you could use the money. No offense but this is hardly living,” she said, referring to the house. She was trying to get what she wanted by using sugar before the situation turned to shit.
The woman stood. “Please, you have to leave. I don’t want your money. I’ll get by. Please I’m not interested” the woman pleaded fearfully. She was obviously frightened as she tried to usher her unwanted guests to the door. Miamor hated to put this burden on the woman’s heart. She seemed nice and Miamor knew that she had grown soft. In the past she wouldn’t have cared about her mark, but today she felt compassion for the disheveled woman before her. Not many people would turn away from such a large sum of money. The woman had principles and Miamor respected it. It wouldn’t help the woman out of the situation, but still Miamor gave the woman a few points for trying to stand her ground.
“Okay remember I tried it the nice way first,” Miamor said, her voice suddenly cold. She walked around the living room as if she owned the place until her gaze fell upon a mantel of framed pictures. “What do we have here? Children? I’d bet you would hate to see anything bad happen to them.”
“Please . . .” the woman’s eyes were wide and filled with tears as her bottom lip trembled.
“Look bitch let me make this perfectly clear,” Aries interrupted as she placed her gun to the woman’s head. “You’re going to inject Mona Lisa with a shot tomorrow directly before the race. Simple, quick, and easy. If you refuse by the time you leave the tracks little miss blondie up there . . .” Aries pointed to the picture of the woman’s daughter. “and those two ugly little grandkids of yours will be dead before you get home. Don’t think we can’t find them. We’ve done this for quite some time. I assure you, we’re quite good at it,” Aries threatened.
Miamor stepped up. “All you have to do is inject one shot. It’ll be the easiest $75,000 you ever make,” Miamor finished. “Do we have a deal?”
The woman nodded in trepidation as her tears finally broke free and fell down her face.
“Relax. You do this and you’ll never hear from us again. You don’t and we’ll be back, next time for blood. You tell anyone about this little visit and you’ll be burying your entire family by the week’s end,” Aries threatened. Miamor handed the woman a shot of a drug called Lasix. Some breeders used the drug to stop their horses lungs from bleeding while racing. It was three times the normal amount that breeders usually give their horses before a race. It would dehydrate Mona Lisa so badly that the horse would most likely die before ever meeting the finish line. Once Broome was broke and desperate, Miamor would have him right where she wanted him. It was only a matter of time . . .
* * *
Odom pulled his Aston Martin out into traffic as he loosened his necktie. The day had been long and stressful. Gathering the money that the Cartel had stacked for a rainy day had required all of his focus. He had needed to ensure that he didn’t leave a paper trail that would lead him to the big house. He had set up two trust accounts, one for Miamor and the other for Leena. Because they weren’t directly related to the Cartel he could create whatever financial history he wanted them to have. Since Miamor had practically lived under the grid since her teenage years, her credit was non-existent. Leena had worked in cash so her credit was neither good or bad. It was easy for him to manufacture perfect credit scores for them both. Breeze on the other hand was another story. Her family was deeply rooted in the drug game and any trust that he set up for her would have been immediately seized. Her money was placed in Leena’s account for safekeeping, but he wasn’t ready to hand over the key to their new fortune just yet. Odom was smitten with Leena and wanted nothing more than a shot to court her. She had accepted the dinner invitation but he knew that once she had access to her own money she wouldn’t need him anymore. He needed a little bit of time to show her that a legit life wasn’t so bad. His attraction was strong and he was trying to get to know her. The late night text messages that he would send her were always politely returned. His early “Morning beautiful” lines answered immediately, but always safely. He understood her hesitance. She was a new widow. Her last relationship had left her lonely, overwhelmed, and hurt, but Odom was determined to crack her. He wanted to introduce her to something new. Her consistent no’s only made him more persistent. A man of the upper class, he was used to getting his way. Most women let him have his way with them with just the flash of his black card. He was attractive, successful, important, but he lacked the raw edge that Leena was drawn too. In the end when she was around him she didn’t feel that familiar pulse in her pussy. Mecca had made her feel it at first sight and Monroe had made her wish she didn’t. Odom knew that he had his work cut out for him, he was up for the challenge. He was hoping that the unexpected bouquet of roses he had sent over to her home would at least be rewarded with a call. He had been anticipating her response all day. He picked up his phone and saw that he had no missed calls.
“Fuck it,” he whispered to himself as he took matters into his own hands. There’s nothing wrong with going after what I want, he coached himself.
The phone rang twice before the husky melody of her voice filled his ear.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Just the sound of that voice brings so much joy to what has otherwise been a shitty day,” he said.
“Oh really?” Leena replied. He smiled because he could hear the laughter in her voice. “It couldn’t have been that bad. You had the time in your schedule to send flowers to my door.”
Odom chuckled and replied, “You’re quite a distraction Ms. Devereaux. You don’t quite seem like the roses type of girl, but they are beautiful all the same. I thought I’d play it safe.”
“They aren’t my favorite flower,” she admitted. “But the arrangement was beautiful. Thank you. When can we expect to have our affairs in order?”
“We can arrange an affair anytime you are ready,” he joked.
“Odom . . . you are a really nice man, but I’m . . .”
“Easy Leena. Don’t stick me with the fork yet. I’m not done. It was only a joke. I understand your situation. I just want it to be known that I plan to wait. As long as it takes for you to get over your loss. I’m very interested in making you mine.”
Her sigh was heavy on the other end of the line.
“Maybe I can take you to lunch. We can discuss the trust. All of the money is in two accounts. I can explain everything to you tomorrow. Maybe just maybe you will tell me your favorite flower. That way next time I know what to send. You pick the place this time and I promise I’ll stick to your plans.”
“I’ll think about having lunch with you,” she said after a long pause. “After we close out our business. I’ll meet you at your office at noon.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Odom said, flirtatiously.
“Good night Odom,” Leena finished.
Odom could hear the sweetness in her tone and he ended the call with a half smile, feeling hopeful. Hope quickly faded into alarm when he saw the hooded figure rise out of his backseat.
“I don’t know what the fuck you smiling for playboy. That little lunch date ain’t happening,” Fly Boogie retorted as he pressed cold steel against the back of Odom’s neck. “You was putting all your game down too. My bosses feel that is a bit disrespectful. Slime-ball mu’fucka.”
“Look you can have whatever you want. I have money . . .”
“I don’t want your money. I have a message from Monroe Diamond,” Fly Boogie said “His bitch ain’t on the market.”
Odom’s eyes doubled in size as he realized this goon had been sent by a ghost himself. “I meant no disre . . .”
Fly Boogie hit Odom hard against his skull causing him to wince as his head jerked forward and the car momentarily went off course.
“Pull this mu’fucka over!” Fly barked.
“Please . . .”
“Dig this,” Fly Boogie said calmly as the car rolled to a stop on the side of the road. “Tomorrow you’re gonna hand over the money to Leena and cut off all communication with her going forward. If not I’m going to visit your mama out in Aventura off of Biscayne Blvd. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Odom replied. He didn’t have to ask how Fly knew his mother’s address. He knew exactly who he was fucking with. The caliber of the Cartel’s reign hadn’t been seen since the days of the New York and Chicago Italian mobs. The Diamond family was heavy in Miami. He didn’t know what he was thinking approaching a widow of The Cartel. He had let his little head get him into a beef when in actuality he wasn’t built for that life.
“Good, now get out of the car,” he ordered.
Odom stepped out of the car and out into the shower of rainfall that fell from the sky. Fly Boogie got out, gun trained on Odom.
“Please don’t kill me,” Odom said calmly, realizing that he was fucking with an entirely new type of drug dealer . . . one that neither the Feds nor death could catch.
“Get on the ground,” Fly Boogie hollered as he kicked in the back of Odom’s knee causing it to buckle. He fell to the wet ground, gritting his teeth and kicking himself for being so unaware of his surroundings.
“Better cut Leena loose tomorrow mu’fucka or its lights out for you,” Fly Boogie said. “Sincerely, Monroe Diamond.”
Fly Boogie climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. “Ol’ pussy ass nigga,” he spat an insult before pulling off recklessly. Water back splashed onto his expensive suit as he watched Fly Boogie speed away from the scene.
“Fuck!” Odom shouted as he climbed to his feet throwing his fists at the air in frustration. He had clearly fucked with the wrong man’s wife.