11/25/2025  The Mendoza Conondrum Part 2 Eva sat on the couch, taking an extended drag on her cigarette before blowing the smoke in the air. Winston stood across from her near the coffee table. He had just finished explaining how the meeting went with Tony. Eva wasn't amused. "So let me get dis straight... He believes dat we are cops?" Winston shrugged, "I don't know. He made the suggestion, but he kept saying how he wants to meet with the boss himself." Eva crossed her legs. She was wearing a white robe that covered her body. When she wasn't working, she enjoyed the comfort that all the drug money brought her in life. She wasn't the only one who knew the truth about Robert Mendoza. Winston and Johnny were her contacts that she used to play these games. So far, Johnny had been out of the picture. If a meeting was to be arranged, he would be the one playing the main role. The only problem was that neither men were good negotiators. They had the balls to run business, but they lacked brains when it came to getting good deals. "This Montana is smarter than we expected," Eva said, shifting her eyes over at Winston.  "I'm not too sure about that. Something has spooked him." Eva shook her head, "I don't tink dat he is scared. He's used to doing business straight up, face to face like most people do. He wasn't expecting to get the runaround from us." "What are you gonna do?" Winston's question was sincere, but knowing Eva he probably wouldn't get an answer. She liked to keep her motives to herself. Eva leaned up to place the cigarette into the ashtray and then she smiled. "I'll meet with him myself. He likes watching me dance, so I'm sure I'll see him tonight." Little could she have guessed that her assumption would be proven wrong. Tony decided to avoid the club all together. He was beginning to grow impatient, fearing that this trip to Key Largo was a waste of time. He spent the night alone in his hotel room catching up on sleep. He liked to stay up and live the Miami night life, but he was far away from it right now. The next morning, he received a call to his hotel. "Hello Mr. Montana, dis is Eva Florez speaking," Tony smiled as he held the phone. He loved the sound of her accent slurring her words. "I didn't see jou at the club last night. What's wrong? I thought dat jou like watching me dance?" "I do. But maybe I like watching you without an audience of every horny bastard in this town cheering you on," she paused, breathing into the phone and then laughing. "Jou are a funny man." "So what's the occasion? I don't think you're calling to check up on me." "I'm not. Let's meet up somewhere and talk. Has anyone shown you a place for a good meal since you arrived in town." "No," he replied. "Good, then I get to be the one to show you. There's a diner not far from your hotel. Little place. Jou should have an easy time finding it, I'll meet jou there." She hung up, not giving him any time to reject her offer. Over the past night, Tony had much time to think about the situation and identity of Robert Mendoza. He came to believe that the man was well hidden, protected even from the outside world. Maybe he was Eva's husband, and that would explain her interest in him. Or maybe he didn't exist at all. The fact that she wanted to meet him a second time told Tony that someone wanted his business. But he had other things on his mind after the night with her. He wanted Eva, and she must've wanted a piece of him to arrange a second meeting into a date. He found the diner. It was a small building and looked like a small business operation. Inside, the menu consisted of ice cream, deserts and simple American fast food. Tony found Eva sitting in the corner wearing a red dress that revealed her cleavage. Her dark hair was split down the middle. She was smoking a cigarette as she sat alone. "Waiting all by yourself?" He asked with a grin, she just smiled. "Of course. Why would I bring another man here when I want to see jou?" He walked over and greeted her by taking her hand and kissing it. Eva grinned smugly as he did this. They sat together, sitting directly across from one another. Outside the window, Tony could see his car parked.  "It's not every day I meet another Cuban in this line of work," Eva said as she placed her cigarette down into the ash tray. "Come to Miami. You'd fight in with Hialeah and Little Havana," he replied. She just laughed. "I know all about the community there," Eva said back. "I tink it's funny dat jou didn't see me dance the last two nights." "Like I told you on the phone, I'd rather be the only one in the audience watching you," Tony replied. Their eyes met and Eva flashed her teeth in a grin. "I like jou, Montana. Jou are honest and jou got balls.. big balls." "Oh, you really think so?" She nodded at her question. Tony continued, "Something tells me this isn't the only reason we're sitting here talking." "It isn't. Winston told me that you wanted to meet the man in charge." Eva acknowledged one of Tony's suspicions. He expected Winston to go back to Eva and repeating what he said. As he looked back at her, he nodded. "Is that what I'm not doing right now?" "I am no man," Eva snarled back at him. Tony laughed, teasing her. "No, but I think you're the one in charge of this whole operation, no? You see, I've done a lot of thinking since we last met. I'm stumped on something, so I might as well ask you. Who is Robert Mendoza? Is he your husband?" Eva's jaw dropped, opening her small mouth, "My husband? I don't have a husband." Tony smiled, "then does he even exist?" He had her figured out. Robert Mendoza was a made up alias. Tony knew that Eva had to be the real one behind the scenes calling the shots. He had only met Winston, but assumed there were other men she sent out to do meetings. She was figured out and didn't try to hide it behind her shocked expression. There was no sense in lying any further to a man who could see right through her. "Jou... Jou are smarter than Winston gave jou credit for." Tony sat back and simply smiled at her, "I've been thinking about it for days. So tell me, do you buy and sell yeyo? Or what is your game out here? I have to give you credit. The nightclub set up is a good cover." Raising her hands, Eva then placed them down on the table, blushing, "fine, jou got me. I wasn't expecting someone to figure this out, so I have to give credit where credit is due." "Excellence respects excellence. I like how you think. Putting yourself out there as an exotic dancer is a good cover to the public." "You met Winston. I have another man who I send out for meetings, his name is Johnny. Which one I don't send usually stays back to play the role of Mendoza." Tony was impressed by her cover. So Robert Mendoza didn't exist. Different identities for the men made for a good cover in her operation. "Since I figured out your game, I want to show you a good time tonight." Eva smiled, "but I have to work." Tony shook his head, knowing that she was only teasing. "You already did your work getting my attention. Come on, I'll take you out for a drive in my car." "Where do you want to go, Montana?" "Anywhere, and you can call me Tony. I'd prefer that." Rising up from his seat, he offered Eva a hand. She took it. Their palms rubbed together before their fingers intertwined. He held her hand as they walked out the diner and to the parking lot. He opened the passer door of his big black Mercedes, helping her in, even though Eva could do it herself. Tony was treating this night as a date. Where to as their next destination? He didn't know. All he wanted to do was drive and talk. The sun dipped into the ocean as the wheels spun across the paved roads. One lane towards Miami with no onlooking traffic. The ocean view was visible to her passenger window with the fading sun falling beyond the crystal blue waters. Most of what they saw surrounding the road were marshes. The ticket back to Miami was through Homestead Florida. Tony was in his comfort zone. He didn't speak at all as he continued to drive. Eva saw how relaxed he was sitting behind the wheel. With her sitting next to him, he felt that words didn't matter right now. He cruised down the highway connecting the Florida keys without any thought of where they were going. There was enough gas in the tank to drive the night away. By night time, they were still driving. Eva waited until then to begin a conversation with him. Something more personal between the two of them. "How old are you, Tony?" "I'm thirty eight, and you?" "Thirty three." She smiled, "I like dat we are closer in age." He turned, smiling at her as he pulled in to Ocean Blue Marina. "Do jou even know where we are at?" Eva asked. Tony blushed, trying to hide his smile, "no. I just know that you're with me and that's all that matters. "I thought you were taking me to Miami," she replied, biting her lower lip.  "Oh, trust me, I want to. But that's far away for a first date." "If you're not taking me to Miami then get back on the main road. We'll talk as you drive," she spoke her demands openly, not showing any fear. Tony liked to see that in a woman. He preferred someone with strength and who wasn't scared to retort his ideas. "I'm sitting on 30 keys of coke back at my apartment. Or shall I say, that is the stash of one Mr. Robert Mendoza." Eva paused speaking to glance out the window as Tony continued to drive. "If I take you back to Miami, I want that to come with us." "What do jou mean by that?" Eva asked. Tony slowed down the car and then looked back at her, "I want you." "Jou want me?" "Yes. You see, I'm the kind of man that takes what I want when I see something I want.. and I want you." he blurted out his desires without second thought. Eva didn't know how to react at first. She didn't reply so he continued on, "look at you. You're smart enough to run your own deals. A woman like you needs a man like me. I have business in Miami. You and me could make a hell of a team." "And here I thought you wanted to sleep with me," Eva teased. "Oh, trust me. I do. But I see more in you than just some dancer on stage. That's all an act. I can see right through you, Eva. With me, you can hang up your dancing shoes and those skimpy outfits for good. Go into retirement and I'll make you rich." "What about Winston and Johnny?" "What about them? Bring them with you to Miami. They can be part of your crew. I have my crew, you can have yours." He seemed to have it all figured out ahead of time. Eva didn't see a reason to refuse his offer so far. Tony was proving to be a man who thought ahead and planned accordingly. "Is it true dat there is a Cuban Mafia in Miami?" "Yeah," Tony responded, "and they don't think very highly of me since I had Frank Lopez taken out. They don't like Cubans to be killing each other." Eva raised an eyebrow at his confession of killing someone. She didn't know who he was talking about, "you killed him?" "No. I told someone to do it, just as he told someone to take me out." "Ah, so it was revenge," she replied. Tony chuckled, "I guess you could call it that." "How many people have you killed Antonio?" "Since I got here? Or back home in Cuba?" Eva giggled at his question back at her. "Have you ever killed anyone before, Eva?" "No. How does it feel to take another life?"  "It feels good to look someone in the eye before killing them. Don't worry, you will learn how it feels soon enough if you come with me." She swallowed her breath after he spoke. Eva could see where this was going. He wanted her and the potential spark was there for them to have more than a simple business relationship. Their talks continued. Eva confessed about her time spent in an American prison. Tony was impressed to know that she was part of the Freedom Flights of refugees leaving Cuba in the early 70s, Vuelos de la Libertad. Eva explained how she did 7 years time in an American prison for women in Atlanta. She returned to Miami and took up exotic dancing after linking with a contact she met in prison.  The name Mendoza was connected to an old cell mate that Eva knew. Shannon Mendoza was married to a drug runner. "I just liked the name and thought it sounded legit," she explained to Tony. He laughed, finding it amusing. When they reached Key Largo again, he dropped Eva off at her apartment.  "I would like to invite jou in, but since I didn't show up at the club tonight, I know Winston is worried about me. I can talk to him in the morning," she told Tony after stepping out of the car. All he did was shake his head, "don't worry about it. We have a lot of stuff we need to talk about tomorrow. I have to call my partner in Miami. You need to think about my offer to you. If you say yes, we can leave tomorrow. Pack up the coke and bring it with us." 05: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

11/18/2025  The Mendoza Conondrum Part 1 November 1984 Manny sat across from Tony's desk, eyes scanning the many TV screens showing the various angles of surveillance cameras around the mansion. It was the start of the week and time to go over plans. Across the desk, Tony looked at some papers while smoking a cigar. "We need to make some new moves. We need new suppliers and some product. Have you heard anything around the streets?" Manny smiled, "yeah, I told you about it over the weekend. Remember that name floating around? Robert Mendoza?" Tony stopped and thought for a few seconds. Mendoza was a name that had been going around town for the past two months. There were dealers across Miami and other players who mentioned buying product from this man. He was apparently hard to get to. Manny had spent the past two weeks asking around, trying to get to the source of this new player.  "You said something about him already. Did you find out where he's running things?" Manny leaned up, answering Tony's question with a nod. "From what I was told, you need to find this club down in the keys. There's a place down in Key Largo called the Silk Palace." "That sounds like the name of a strip club," Tony remarked. Manny chuckled in response. "Who knows? It might be. I didn't get any other details. Apparently the guy and his people are connected there. You have to go and ask around. Eventually, someone contacts you and they set up a meeting." The way Manny described this situation only puzzled Tony further. Whoever this man was, he kept his identity hidden well. Tony placed the cigar down in the ash tray and blew a puff of smoke. Manny could see that he was in deep thought about the situation. Following the trouble they had last year, the Montanas lacked a supplier. Manny had successfully managed to get Tony away from Sosa's influence. Every organization in Miami was fighting for product that moved in from long distance. Maybe that was how Mendoza got his supply. Or maybe not. One way or another, Tony wanted to find out and make a new connection. "I want to go and check that place out." Manny's right eyebrow raised, "alone?" "Sure, why not? I need to get out of the house every now and then by myself." "What about me? I'm your partner." Tony nodded, "yeah, that's why you should stay and look over things. I go on a trip for a few days and come back. You can take over from here in case anyone needs me. I think that's fair." On second thought, Manny nodded, "alright. Just make sure you go strapped," that remark made Tony roll his eyes, "yeah, who do you think I am? I'll bring two. Get me a map for the Keys. I haven't been down there in a long time." The next day Tony set out on his journey alone.  The black Mercedes was his vehicle of choice. He kept two guns on him and then a third in the glove department under the dashboard. $5,000 in cash was enough to get a hotel room and then have money to spend for a good time. The long roads to the Florida Keys stretched for several miles. It was a lonely ride, but Tony managed as the hours passed. Key Largo was a small island connected by the many bridges. Isolated from the main city, it was an ideal hub for any smuggler to blend in with retirees, tourists and others. After locating the highest class hotel, Tony booked a stay for 4 days. In his room, he carried the briefcase with all his money, guns and clothes. A place like this made for a fine retreat, but he knew business had to come first. After checking in, he went searching for the Silk Palace. He found it within walking distance of the hotel. This made the situation convenient to leave the car locked in the parking lot. Tony decided to call Manny, letting him him know that he had checked in a hotel and would be visiting the club later tonight. For now, a much needed nap was in order. It was hard to awaken from a good slumber when comfortable. Despite being away from home, Tony slept so well he didn't want to wake up. The clock read 11:40 PM when he finally climbed out of bed. He should've been up an hour ago to prepare, but now it was almost midnight. He quickly marched into the bathroom to get a hot shower. He slipped into a black pinstriped suit, grabbed his preferred black Beretta 9mm pistol and pushed it into the holster on his left foot. It blended in with the pants where no one would think to check. Once he was ready, Tony went out on the street and walked directly to the Silk Palace club. By the time he got in, the place was booming with an atmosphere of loud music and the smell of cigarettes. With a place like this, Tony felt like a fish out of water even though he easily blended in. It would've been easier with Manny along with him to point out some of the players and people to talk to. But this wasn't Miami. He was out of town and didn't know how to talk to. Girls danced on stage, twirling around poles at the fading flickers of neon lights.  "Robert Mendoza? Do you know him or who I need to ask to get in contact with him?" Tony asked one man after another. All of them wearing suits as the obvious security of the club. None of them gave him a name. Every one of them shook their heads as if they were ordered to react that way when asked about the boss man.  All of it felt like a waste of time so far. Tony didn't feel that he was getting anywhere in his search for a new connection. The best he could do by now was to make his presence known. Maybe Mendoza had people in the club who would report back to him. So Tony ordered a few drinks and took the far seat of a table where anyone could see him. Those who knew of his reputation in Miami would be able to point him out, hopefully for Robert Mendoza to find him. The girls all shuffled around, exiting the stage. While Tony enjoyed his drinks, he didn't notice that that their presence was gone and a single woman now commanded everyone's undivided attention from the center stage. The lights dimmed and changed to red as her bare feet moved across the stage. He turned and gazed up to see a short woman wearing a red thong and bra. Dark hair ran down her back split from the middle. Her breasts were visibly pushed up in the bra. She worked her hips, strutting around the stage at the beat of a slow song.   Everyone in the club stopped what they were doing. It dawned on Tony that this was the main show. So many men had come to Silk Palace for the sole intention of watching this woman. He didn't know her name, but the look in her brown eyes told a tale. Tony could see the fire within her. As the music continued, she walked off the stage, strutting her hips as she climbed onto the table. Tony was given a perfect view of her strong legs as she climbed up, stepping closer to him. Everyone gazed up at her. The tempo of the song increased and she spread her legs as she began waving her hair around. To the left, then the right. Long brunette locks whipping furiously like blowing winds. When she stopped, the woman looked directly into his eyes. She must've done this a hundred times before, walking on a table to look at the man sitting on the far side. It was his lucky night to witness such a display of beauty from an exotic dancer. When the song ended, everyone erupted clapping their hands. "Now that's what I call a fucking show!" One man screamed. Tony didn't move. He just looked into the woman's eyes. A smug grin ran across her little lips. He had seen strippers before, but he could tell that she was a cut above all of them. This woman was an exotic dancer. One who didn't need to take her clothes off to rile up the crowd. That must've been the reason no one tossed money everywhere during her epic performance. After she left the stage, Tony stuck around the bar. He asked the bartender about Robert Mendoza, once again getting shot down. It wasn't worth asking for another round of drinks. His gaze lingered around the doors, checking the bodyguards and for any men coming and going. To his surprise, the same woman who sizzled on stage half an hour ago emerged from one of the doors. It was definitely her with the same face and hair. She wore a black blouse, blue jeans and a black leather jacket. Tony couldn't help but approach her and introduce himself. "That was some show you just put on. Do you have a name?" The woman looked him dead in the eyes and replied in a thick accent, "Eva. Eva Florez... and jou, what do jou call jourself?" "Antonio Montana, or Tony for short." She grinned, flashing her teeth after his answer. The accent slurring her speech made her sound as if she were from his home country of Cuba. "I've heard jour name before. Did jou drive all the way down here from Miami to watch me dance?" He shook his head, "no. I came here looking for a man named Robert Mendoza. No one told me there was a dancer here with a lovely voice. Where are you from?" "Santiago de Cuba." Returning the smile, Tony nodded, "I come from Havana." "So I've heard," her eyes never left his as she replied. "Jou are looking for Mendoza, yes? I take it dat jou want to make some kind of deal. Buying or selling?" "That's hard for me to answer without knowing him." Eva grinned, "oh, so jou don't discuss business out in the open with strangers?" Tony laughed, "What's your angle in all this? Do you know Robert Mendoza?" "I do, yes. But if jou don't want to talk to me about business right now, I'm not gonna push jou on it. Want me to drop a message for him?" "Sure. Tell him I'd like to have a word. I'm staying at the hotel around the corner." "Oh, dat sounds good. I'll be seeing jou around again then, Antonio." Tony nodded at her, "I'm sure you will." By the time Tony got back to the hotel at 3 AM, he tried to make sense of their meeting. it was hard to forget Eva's charm and those beautiful brown eyes glaring at him. But how did she know so much? Was she in on Mendoza's deals? Everything felt like fragments to a larger picture he had yet to see. The next day, Tony received a phone call from the hotel. A man claiming to work for Robert Mendoza wanted to talk at the park. He spoke in a fluent American accent. The kind of voice that made Tony call him a yankee. He expected to meet someone with bodyguards at least. What Tony instead met was a long haired white man, introducing himself as Winston. With a few greetings, the men sat on a park bench and began to discuss matters overlooking the sea. "I talked to someone last night. A woman who seemed to know more about Mendoza than I would've expected. So who are you again?" "I just meet people for the boss, that's it. I assume you're referring to Eva." Tony nodded. He was trying to get a read on Winston. He didn't say much, so the man could go on. "You didn't tell her that you were buying or selling." From his own admission, Tony now knew that Eva talked to Winston before this meeting. "No, I didn't. It's hard to do business with someone who just sends people to meet me. Why can't Mendoza meet me himself?" Winston shrugged his shoulders, "It just don't work that way. He's harder to get to than the president." Thinking to himself, Tony had a comeback to catch the man off guard, "you know who else are hard to get to? Narcs. Fucking vice cops." Winston laughed, "what!? You think we're cops?" "Who said you aren't?" The other man shrugged again, "would you believe it if Eva told you we weren't?" "Maybe. Maybe not." "Whatever you say then, man." "Tell your boss if he wants a deal with me, he needs to get me in person. I'm not playing these games telling one person for them to act as the messenger and go to him. Maybe I'm just a little paranoid, you know? Where I come from, we do things face to face, mano a mano." Winston finally interjected after Tony was done, "What if I can't get to my boss right?" "That's fine then. Tell the dancer Eva I'd rather talk to her." Tony avoided the club that night. He wanted to be alone where he could try to figure out the game played with Mendoza and these strange people. Maybe they weren't cops, but something didn't sit right with him. After 3 days in Key Largo, he had been avoiding calling Manny to give an update, but knew he had to at some point. He went back to the park where he met Winston. it was empty in the evening hours. Tony just stood there, overlooking the ocean and contemplating his thoughts. Here he was, completely out in the open where anyone could take a shot at him. He thought about dropping by the club, just to watch Eva dance. On second thought, Tony chose to go back to his hotel and continue on without the temptation. As badly as he wanted to watch her, he didn't want to fall into a trap there. It was best that she or someone else associated with Mendoza reach out to him. 10: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

07/09/2025  At The Cinema Old theaters had come and went with a change of times. Few of them seemed to have any relevancy anymore in society. As culture drifted to different means of entertainment, it was difficult to ignore the sense of borrowed time that the cinema had.  When Tony heard that an old theater across town was airing old films, he was intrigued. How old was the question, since people had their own definition for what constituted of old films. In his mind, the golden age of cinema was the 1930s up to 1960s. All the classics were from that time frame. Movies he watched in rundown theaters in Cuba long before his journey to America. Pictures of Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney and the like. He'd once bragged that his father was an American and taught him how to speak the English language.  The memories of watching classic films took a whole different meaning in the years past. A sense of nostalgia washed over him when he thought about the most precious, special someone in his life.  When Sofia returned to Miami over 10 years ago, she spent time with him watching movies. It was one of his most favorite memories to sit alone with her in a dark room and forget about the day through viewing old films projected on a large TV screen.  Sofia had an interest in black and white films. Tony was surprised someone in his life wanted to watch them despite how much time had moved past with technological advancements to newer cinema. By this point, they had become old pieces of history. He quickly took in the mutual appreciation they shared for this fine art.  He could still remember the first movie they watched together. 'The Roaring Twenties' staring James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart from 1939. She sat next to him on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn that night.  A decade had passed since then and he had the chance to share that memory with her again, but in a public place this time around. One with a much larger screen to project the flickering images of a timeless classic. Casablanca was the film of choice by the theater's owners. Tony was so excited to arrange this date for Sofia. He didn't tell her where they were going, only insisting that it would be a surprise for her to find out later.  She dressed for the occasion, as she always did. Sofia had a unique style to her, favoring black and red colors. Today's choice was a black dress and matching stilettos. She wasn't worried at all about the summer heat to go out like this. Tony noticed her colors of choice and would pick his suits to compliment whatever she was wearing. Sometimes it was the same color. Other times, he went the opposite.  Today's choice was black on black.They were both going to sweat out in the heat for a few minutes before entering the air conditioned building. It was a short drive downtown in the black Mercedes-Benz. Tony enjoyed driving Sofia to places when he could. They didn't always get to share time together in a car, but when they did, he felt relaxed with her at his side. The ride was short. They had to stop in a parking lot, then get out and walk. Tony liked to get out of his car and walk to the passenger side. There he would open the door and offer his hand to her. Once he pulled her out of the car, he would shut the door, and then they began their walk. Her heels clacked against the pavement below as they moved to the street and began to walk past buildings. "Oh, this is why you didn't tell me. We're going to the movies," she said in excitement as she noticed the theater. To hear her gasp at the vintage movie poster made Tony blush in delight. She recognized it, "are we going to see Casablanca?"  He nodded, "yes we are, darling. That's why I didn't tell you anything to spoil the surprise." Seeing her smile and then let go of his hand to dash to through the door was such a lovely sight. The joy and excitement Sofia displayed brought a level of happiness to Tony he couldn't feel from anyone else in his life.  Two large drinks and one big bowl of popcorn were all that was required with tickets. Inside the screening room were rows of seats. It brought back memories of when cinemas were a place of socialization and carried an aura of importance for enjoying films as a hobby. That was long before the rise of VHS tapes and home media changed everything. In Sofia's lifetime, she couldn't relate to it like he did. Tony remembered those days. There were people in the theater, shockingly to his eyes. Tony had to raise an eyebrow upon witnessing the groups of people that were here at a screening of a movie that was 82 years old. No one in the theater was alive when the film first came out, but here they were appreciating the value of something that had become timeless over the course of decades. Tony and Sofia sat together, side by side in the 2nd to last row. From the middle they had a great view of the large screen. The lights flickered with that crude aesthetic of black and white frames as the music began, kicking off the movie.  He watched her raise the drink to her lips and sip from the straw. Some talking was heard among people in the upper row seats, but Tony ignored them. As the movie began, he sat back and relaxed in his seat. Sofia held the bowl of popcorn and passed it over to him, but he brushed off her invitation of a snack.  Twenty minutes into the movie, Tony had lost his interest. It wasn't that he had seen Casablanca many times before. The only reason he wanted to do this was to have her company. To have her next to him while out of the house in a place where they could relax.  Sofia caught his wandering eye gazing in her direction. She didn't say anything as their eyes met. For that brief moment, it felt as if time had stood still between them.  Tony held his arms out, quietly gesturing for her to get up and sit in his lap. Sofia dropped the popcorn bucket in her abandoned seat as she got up and moved over to him. She nestled her way into his lap, sitting there where he could wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Her smile was one of a proud joy. Sofia had his complete undivided attention despite the large screen in front of them and loud audio to the movie. All of it was just background scenery. To hold her in his arms was all he ever wanted and needed. Sofia remained smiling as she glanced down and saw his left arm around her waist and the right one close by. She glanced over at his drink sitting in the holder and grabbed it. Their eyes met again as she raised the straw to her lips and went for a sip. After the drink, Sofia sat it back in the drinker holder. Tony moved his hand over hers, gently caressing her skin. She glanced down to see his right hand over hers. Her eyes shifted back to his and then she smiled again. Sofia's smiles could appear smug in the way she curved her lips, but it was a gesture Tony never grew tired of seeing. He moved her hand into his, holding it gently. As she looked into his eyes, he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. Sofia gasped, still looking into his eyes. Her big brown hues were so wondrous. If eyes were truly a window into the soul, Tony felt he could read her eyes better than most. When he moved her hand away from his mouth, she pouted. That exaggerated pout and then the look on her face told him that she wanted more. Any other time, Sofia was a chatterbox who couldn't stop talking. Not once did he complain. Tony loved to hear her talk. The sound of her voice brought him so much comfort. When she would read aloud from books to their son, Tony always relaxed at her voice. Sofia could've read a phone book in her spoken word and he would've enjoyed it. Within this movie theater, she was quiet as a mouse. Not once glancing away from him, Sofia centered all her attention onto him and refused to be distracted by anything. She didn't have any care of other people witnessing them share this moment. Those deep eyes. What they were telling him in silence were of daring moves. His angel, the only one who could shine light on his darkest days was no doubt tempting him with her expressions. Sofia had a way of bringing out his naughty side. She wouldn't hesitate, even if they were in public with strangers watching them. But for Tony, their love making ranged from passionate to the most dirty rhythms only their bodies could move together. It was their truth and not for any other person to witness. He raised her hand to his lips again, this time kissing around her knuckles. Sofia's smile faltered after a few seconds. Her eyes were telling him that she wanted more than the simple gesture of him kissing her hand. Tony shifted his hand, holding hers again. Palms rubbing together, he moved his fingers in place, lacing them with hers so he could hold her hand tightly against her. Yet this wasn't enough. She pouted again. Another silent gesture telling him that she wanted more. So far, he was only teasing her. Tony liked to take his time while thinking of how she was melting in his arms. He gently pulled her arm outward, shifting her closer to him. Once her lips were in reaching distance, his right arm moved slightly from her waist, bringing her closer to lock lips. His tongue slid into her mouth, gently moving against hers as he kissed her tenderly. A slow dance, playing with the tip of her tongue. He could feel her hot breath blowing through her nostrils against his face. Eyes closed, Tony embraced this moment of kissing her again.  Time was standing still. The movie carried on, as did everything else around them. But for Tony, nothing else mattered. he could feel Sofia's excitement from the way she breathed into his mouth. Her body tensed up in a way as if she were about to explode like a firecracker in his arms. Their kissing continued. He didn't want to stop. Sofia threw her arms around his neck as an invitation to continue what had become a passionate makeout session throughout the movie. They had both forgotten the runtime and their close surroundings.  They didn't stop until the credits rolled. Only then did Tony pull away from Sofia. They had been making out for so long the bright pink color of her lipstick covered his own lips. Kissing her for so long was worth every last second. When the lights came on in the room, it was time to leave. Tony felt good to walk out of the theater still tasting her tongue within his mouth. They forgot about the drinks and popcorn, leaving it behind for someone else to clean up. Just so long as he was holding her hand on the way out, he was happy to go. 09: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

10/17/2023  Moving Up Pt. 1 - All In A Week's Work "The time to expand is now. We don't have any competition on the street. I want to start pushing north right now. We put our stake back in Downtown, and from there, it's all settled." By Tony's words, he ordered what was next in line for the rebuilding Montana Cartel. With Venus by his side as his second in command and Felix as the eyes and ears on the street, Tony was confident they had something to build on now. Montana territory was concentrated to Little Havana and Hialeah among the Cuban communities in town. Tony had his eyes on a legit business in the downtown area. That would be a good place to bring in hustlers and players from across town, as well as a steady flow of legit money. He remembered that after coming to the US and spending nights in an upscale nightclub, he always wanted to have his own nightclub. Tony had big plans for Venus. She had potential to establish herself as a major figure in the game. Her approach to dealing with problems was brutal, cutthroat and to the point. He planned on building her up, slowly over time to the point that she was feared and respected throughout Miami. She had her own beauty saloon that was used as a front for her escort business. The girls stayed at the Sunburst Hotel. They feared her as their boss. It was a tight business, but Tony wanted something bigger for her. Venus deserved more than just the title of madam. He seen her as having the potential to be a major figure from a drug lord to a boss if she so desired it. Felix's job was to set up deals and offer connections from the street. So far, he had proven useful with finding certain people looking for jobs and dealers across town. Tony figured if they had a nightclub, Felix could operate from there. It would bring the right people in to talk to him and make connections. That was better than having Felix run from one end of the city to the other establishing a presence where people could go to him. An opportunity opened with an old unused building going up for sale in Downtown. The building had once housed a disco club that underwent new coats of paint with management and name changes. The property was bought up by an investor who just left the building abandoned. It was covered in graffiti on the outside and had been vandalized a few times before it was given a quick remodeling. No 'For Sale' signs were put up on the property, leading Tony to believe it was a private acquisition. The only way for him to have a chance of buying it was to seek out this private investor legally. That took a few weeks before a lead came up. A multi-millionaire real estate manager by the name Jason Johnson was the owner. Tony had Felix schedule a meeting for him. That made Felix uncomfortable since he was a legit businessman and not someone from their walk of life in the criminal underbelly of town. Nevertheless, Felix pleased his boss by going out of his way to make up some meeting. He found that Johnson liked to hang out at café in South Beach. MONDAY "I don't think you're just going to be able to offer this guy a briefcase of cash and he'll hand over the deed." Felix tried to warn Tony, who just brushed him off. "Relax. You forget that everybody has a price. He would be stupid to turn down cash in hand." "Maybe he is." Felix had a right to believe Johnson wouldn't fold. Since he had met with the man, he felt him out from that first meeting. Tony literally thought he could go right in with a briefcase of money and have his way. The meeting was setup on a restaurant rooftop in Downtown during afternoon hours. Tony went alone that day. They shook hands and the man started the conversation by telling Tony that he had heard he had a good reputation. "Is my reputation good enough to buy something from under you? I've got cash, no need for any checks, man." The smile he offered with that joke did not warm over the businessman. "I know your reputation. Anyone who pays in cash is trying to hide something." The man mocked him with a smug grin. Tony was surprised to be put on the spot like that. It completely killed his mood in this public place. "I don't deal with criminals. Take your money and shove it." And with that, the meeting ended. It was unusual for Tony to leave a meeting like this, still with cash in hand. He was furious as he left that day. Later, Venus wanted to know how the meeting went by the time she got home. After dinner, they sat around in the living room to discuss business. "That fucking guy thinks he's some goody two-shoes. He wouldn't take my money cause I'm a fucking criminal, so he says." Tony saw Venus raise her eyebrows as she looked back at him. "Wow. He insulted you to your face." Tony sighed and crossed his arms, annoyed by today's lackluster results. "I can tell you're pissed, baby. You don't have to make that pose in front of him." That smirk after her words was enough to soften him up a bit to smile back at her. "Maybe Felix was right. He comes from a different walk of life than us. But that don't make him better than me." As Tony voiced his frustrations, Venus sat on the couch thinking to herself. She had her own ideas for getting the land deed and control of the building. Tony did it the right way trying to buy it, but now it was her turn to play it the wrong way. "Did he have a wedding ring on?" Tony looked back at her, somewhat puzzled by that question. "I didn't see any jewelry on this guy. I don't think it's his style." Venus smiled. If he didn't have a ring on, then he was a bachelor. This was going to be easy then. She knew just what to do in order to get a business exchange out of him. "Let me handle him, baby. He'll be sorry soon." "What are you gonna do?"  Venus laughed at him. She gave Tony a reassuring smirk. All that told him was that she was planning something devious. He moved closer to her, leaning down face-to-face. "I've got you, baby. Don't you worry about a thing." She kissed him tenderly after her words. The time had come for her to relieve his stress with a night of love to end the day. ********* TUESDAY Another typical day of work at Venus' beauty saloon was in store, or so someone thought. Venus went to work with a different plan in mind for today. She called her niece Gabriela Alvarez and told her to come up to the saloon. The time had finally come to introduce Gabby to the business. The young woman had been kept away mostly, sheltered in secrecy as Venus vowed to protect her. She was the only family member Venus had in Miami, and thus it was her duty to keep her out of harm's way.  Venus called Gabby on the phone from her office. After she instructed her to come down to the saloon, she hung up the phone and turned her attention to someone else. Charlotte was her assistant in the office. It was usually her duty to help Venus keep track of the girls escorting business. Venus was lenient on Charlotte, pampering and spoiling her like a pet solely for her beauty and the fact she was one of Tony's ex-girlfriends. That was about to change. "Charlotte, shut the door. We need to have a talk." The buxom blonde girl went and shut the door before returning to the desk for their discussion. "I need you to do something for me. This is real important, which is why I'm giving you the job." "What is it?"  Venus grabbed a picture and a note from the desk and handed it to Charlotte. The note contained the address for the café and the specific hours for when he was there every morning and afternoon. Under that was a room number scribbled in red ink. "This is Jason Johnson. You'll find him at this café every morning."  Charlotte looked back at her with a confused expression. Venus carried on speaking. "Go find something sexy to wear so you catch his eye." "Why are you asking me to do that?" Venus shook her head at that question.  "I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm telling you to go meet him. You're going to seduce him back to the hotel, then you're going to fuck him. I gave you a room number. I'm setting up a camera in the room so I can film it and take pictures." Charlotte's eyes widened. Never had she been asked to do anything like this before, let alone be ordered directly. Venus was stern in her delivery of speech. It intimidated her into swallowing her breath. Even though Charlotte was once an escort, she had long stopped. She worked solely as Venus' assistant, and was occasionally invited for threesomes with Tony and Venus. Those were happy times, since Charlotte still had a thing for Tony. Venus was well aware of this and went out of her way to make sure there was no possibility of Charlotte getting back with him on the downlow. "Why me? Why not Misty or one of the other girls?" Venus got up from her desk. She did not like being questioned on orders. She stood in front of Charlotte and grabbed her shirt. It was a simple black blouse that hid her busty, natural breasts. Venus yanked at her blouse and ripped it down the middle, causing those soft, plump boobs to spill out. Charlotte gasped in fear of this sudden forcefulness from her boss.  "This is why I chose you. These right here." She gave Charlotte a stern look. "Show him these. Wear something slutty so he sees your tits." Charlotte sighed. She did not bother tucking her tits back into her ripped shirt. She just did as she was told, walking to the back room where the escorts had outfits to change into. After Charlotte left the building for her job, a taxi pulled up. Gabby stepped out and into the blinding sunlight. The wind blew her brunette hair in her face. She swiped it away and fixed her purse across her shoulder before walking into the saloon. Venus walked out to greet her niece with a big hug. She introduced Gabby to all the girls working hair and makeup in the saloon, then took her behind the employees door and to her private office. "Thanks for showing me around today. So this is where you spend all your time?" Venus nodded with a smile to her niece. "Yeah, I'm here every day except weekends. I think it's time I introduce you to the family business. I need someone to help me around you. I wouldn't trust anyone else but you." "What do you need me to do?" "I need a new assistant. Just follow along with what I show you. You'll keep track of the books, the phone and scheduling." Just like that, Charlotte lost her job without notice in favor of Venus' own niece. The time had finally come to bring Gabby in where she could be mentored by Venus. While Tony had plans for Venus, she had plans for Gabby. She seen her niece as if she were her own daughter. One day, she was going to run the business with her, all in family as it should be. Charlotte was relieved of her duties and pushed back into the role as an escort. That was where she belonged. Venus saw Charlotte as nothing more than a whore who wasn't getting the action she needed to cure her loneliness.   ********* Across town, Charlotte entered the café with her high heel pumps clicking and clacking. She wore a short pink skirt to go with a too tight, too small blouse. The middle button was hanging on to dear life to contain her busty tits from exploding free. She found Jason Johnson and walked right over to greet the man with a smile. "Hello, handsome. Would you mind if I have a seat with you?" He offered a smile as he was obviously taken in by her large weapons of mass distraction. Charlotte flashed her teeth in a cheeky grin before sitting down across from him. Away from the café, Venus was busy at the hotel. She wanted to personally rig the room to film a sex tape or snap photos for this job. One camera was hidden in the crack of closet, completely blending in behind a line of clothes that were unable to fit. A second camera was positioned directly across the bed on the middle shelf of a wooden nightstand. Both cameras were activated by a remote control. Venus was satisfied and confident in this. All she had to do was press the power button to both remotes when she saw Charlotte enter the hall. Since she went through the work of setting this up herself, Venus decided to hang back and wait for her. Gabby was back at the saloon and would have the duty of closing shop on her first day. It took 3 hours of waiting, but Venus eventually heard Charlotte's laughter in the distance with a male voice joining in. She got up from a stool she had been sitting on in the hall and finally pressed the buttons on both remotes. Venus let out a sigh and walked in the opposite direction so Charlotte would not see her. She was just relieved to not have to wait another minute and could finally go home. Looking at the time on her gold Rolex, Venus saw that it was a few minutes past 6 PM. Tony had not called, but she knew he would be waiting at home for her. ********* WEDNESDAY All work and no play. That was the schedule of the week days for the Montana household. Tony had been going out with Felix trying to make connections across town. He had forgotten about the club building... for now. Venus took over on that end with her plan coming to fruition.  A smile ran across Venus' lips as she looked at the filmed action from both cameras. Charlotte did her job fucking Jason Johnson with two active cameras in the room. She was smart enough to keep the lights on, so they had full color recording with no blurry image. Venus sat in front of her computer at the hotel, editing the video footage together of what was a wild, raunchy sex tape. She cut several still frames to print out as part of her blackmail. The frames showed his face. Charlotte was relieved that she was done with the escort job. "Now that I'm done, can I go back to work at the saloon tomorrow?" Venus could see her concerned gaze from the corner of her left eye. The older woman did not move her sight away from the computer screen as she replied. "No. We're not done yet." She heard Charlotte let out a defeated sigh, almost pouting. Venus was not going to tell Charlotte that she had been replaced as an assistant by her own niece. She was going to play Charlotte for now and let her figure it out later on.  "I want you to get the printer ready. I might need you to go and get the VHS copy machine too." Back at the saloon, Gabby sat in Venus' desk chair, overlooking everything while she was gone. Venus had to call Tony and tell him that she would not be arriving home until probably midnight hours. He understood, since they both worked their own side of the business with their own crews. This was the life of the underworld game. Some nights you didn't get home at all, out hustling and doing business. The blackness of light was underwhelming away from the streets where the poles cast an array of lights. Venus and Gabby sat quietly in a Mercedes Benz in a lonely parking lot. They were parked directly in front of the car belonging to Jason Johnson. Venus thought about waiting on him to come out and confront the man, but when she saw it was 10:40 at night, she changed her mind. Gabby accompanied her on this trip for a special reason. "Come on, I'm tired of waiting. Grab the tape and the photos." Venus spoke as she leaned back to grab an aluminum baseball bat that was sitting in the back seat. Gabby opened the door while clutching the VHS cassette, printed photos and a roll of white tape. They stood on the left side of the car. Venus motioned for Gabby to drop her items on the hood. She handed her niece the bat to prepare her for the next step. This was a job for Gabby to show her commitment and learn. Venus took the white tape and carefully stuck the photographs onto the windshield of the car before taping them. After she done, she looked at her niece and pointed at the driver side window. "Go ahead. Smash that fucking window." Her fingers twisted around it for a tighter grip. Gabby took a deep breath as she moved into place and reared the bat back. With one swing, the glass shattered with a loud thud. The car alarm began to blare loudly, startling Gabby to take a few steps back. Venus stomped over to the driver's side and tossed the VHS tape into the seat. A rubber band was wrapped around it containing a note as part of the blackmail. In red ink, the words "We know where you live" were visible. The alarm was still going off when the two women climbed back into their car. Venus cranked the engine and shifted gears to peel out of the parking lot at a slow speed as if she didn't have a care in the world what just happened. ********* THURSDAY Another day at the saloon for Venus was in order. She sat in her office with Gabby while Charlotte had been dismissed back to the hotel. Earlier in the day, Charlotte called and asked if she was needed at the saloon. Venus told her no and to "take a few days off to rest at the hotel". She had yet to inform her that she had been replaced as the assistant. She would eventually find out soon enough. The phone began to ring from her desk. Venus picked it up to be greeted with Tony's voice. "Hey baby, what's going on?" "Hey! That guy called. He wants to handover the deed to the building with no cash. He sounded a bit scared over the phone." Venus giggled at that remark. "Oh, was he? I would like to think he's scared straight after last night." Tony did not know just what Venus had done to put this level of fear into him. He was proud of her though. This arrangement could have dragged out weeks into next month. Now it was settled before the weekend. He was on the way to make the exchange when he decided to call Venus with the portable phone in his car. "I'll call you back when the deal is done. I'd like to go out tonight. I was thinking we could go out for dinner and celebrate." "I would love that! Can Gabby come with us too?" "Yeah, sure. Bring her along, it's about time I met your neice."  After hanging the phone up, Venus smiled at her niece. "Tony wants to go out for dinner tonight and you're coming with us. Come on, I'll take you shopping so you can get something fancy to wear tonight." To celebrate this success, Tony booked a rooftop dinner for three at the same restaurant he had met Johnson at earlier in the week. Venus took Gabby to a boutique store to buy whatever outfit she wanted for the evening. She knew Tony was going to wear one of his pinstripe suits, since he preferred to go out in style on a night like this. He did one extra and sent a limousine to pick the girls up from the shop. When they stepped out of the doors, a big white, stretch limo was parked waiting for them. The chauffeur got out of the limo to open the door for them to climb in the back seats. Gabby looked surprised on first impression. Venus saw the reaction on her face and grinned. "Welcome to our world, honey. This is how Tony likes to go out and turn heads." Their hair was all fixed up. Big gold hoop earrings dangled from Venus' ears, visible beyond her brunette locks. They both wore an elegant dress to go with high heels. Black was Venus' color of choice to go with her gold earrings and Rolex watch. Gabby chose a dark red, crimson color and a silver necklace as her one piece of jewelry.  They arrived at the restaurant and were escorted to the rooftop where Tony awaited them. True to her guess, Venus saw him in a white pinstripe suit with a shirt underneath. As he approached his love, Tony gently grabbed her right hand and leaned down to kiss it. When he leaned up, Venus gave him a quick kiss on the lips. She introduced him to Gabby, in which Tony repeated the process. He kissed her hand, just as he did Venus. "I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you." "Likewise, Venus has been telling me about you since the day I came to Miami." At a reserved table, Tony sat across from Venus. Gabby was closer to the side wall where she could see the tall buildings surrounding them. She spent most of her life in New York before taking the bus to Miami just last month. Tony could see the amazement in her eyes as she looked across town. "We're in Downtown, if you're wondering. That's South Beach over there across the water." He pointed across the way to his right. Venus smiled as she saw Gabby's eyes still wandering around. Between eating, they sipped on wine from goblets. "Gabby's my only real family. She's like a daughter to me." Venus spoke to Tony. "Is she from the Bahamas too?" "No, I'm from New York." Gabby replied in a way that made Venus slightly nervous. Despite her passionate commitment to him, Venus had yet to tell Tony the truth of where she came from or her violent past. For all he knew, she came from the Bahamas yet spoke perfect English and had a deep Bronx accent. He was ignorant to that fact since he had never spent time in New York City. "I've never been to New York, I've always wanted to go there though." "Maybe someday when we aren't busy with chasing people around this town." Venus spoke, quick to steer the conversation away from New York. "Yeah, what a week this has been, and it's not even Friday yet!" Tony laughed after speaking. His laughter was joined by Venus soon after. "Tomorrow we get to sleep in. We're taking the weekend off, lover man." Now Gabby was laughing at them. "You didn't tell me how your meeting went with Mr. Johnson. Did he apologize to you for being rude?"  Tony nodded with a smug grin. "Oh yeah, he looked like he had the fear of God put in him." Venus and Gabby looked at each other while sipping wine.  "That's what I like to hear. He had a... video and some nasty pictures I don't think he wanted leaked in the newspapers." Gabby laughed at her aunt hinting at the blackmail. "Oh, so that's what you did. Smart move. That guy thinks he's something." "A goody two-shoes who don't want everyone to know about paying escorts for cheap thrills." Venus managed to mock both Jason Johnson and Charlotte with those words. Since Tony did not see the photos, he did not know what they were of. It was easy for him to guess Venus used any of her girls for the job. "I can't believe we got the building without having to spend a dime. The remodeling will be a lot cheaper. How much should we spend? I was thinking around seventy thousand at the bare minimum." "Tony, we're not in the office! Let's take a break from business and enjoy ourselves!" Venus made him, but it was true. He had a habit of constantly moving in with business talk when they needed to be relaxing. ********* 1 WEEK LATER Tony and Venus stood side by side in what would become the dance floor of their neck club. The scent of fresh paint was almost overwhelming from all sides of the building. The new coat was black and shiny. Up on the ceiling was the new outline of what would be the logo of their club. Tony smiled as he envisioned blue neon lights around it. "How do you like that logo, baby?" 06: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

08/04/2023  Deal Pt. 1 Summer winds blew with the hot air with a whimper shaking the palm trees outside. The afternoon sunlight had melted away ay comfort one may have found when walking the streets. Shade was brief outside Venus' Beauty Salon in Little Havana, Miami Florida. Inside, the fans were blowing hard on the highest setting as a girl was busy cutting hair for a customer in a chair. Cuban music was heard in and clear from a stereo boombox across the room. The volume was turned high on purpose to distort out any unwanted listeners from overhearing conversations in the back room.  Venus sat behind her fancy, black marble and gold desk. A fan was on her desk blowing cool air towards her face. Hair fixed in a ponytail to compliment her casual wear of the day. Another fan was blowing across the room as she sat with a phone on the table and other paperwork. This was the day-to-day life Venus had. She hid within her salon and operated the real business behind a door for employees only. Charlotte was her only trusted assistant. The blonde haired, buxom girl spent all her time waiting on Venus hand and foot. She answered the phone; delivered drinks, lunch and the most important thing of handling the notebooks. It was Charlotte's duty to keep tabs on all the girls back at the Sunburst Hotel. They were a small crew of girls escorting under Venus. "It's so fucking hot today. I don't know how we're gonna last another month of this." Venus sighed. She raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip of cold soda while Charlotte stood in front of the desk.  "I guess we have to get used to this. It'll be even hotter next year." Venus rolled her eyes at that remark. She tried to smile, not wanting to think about the intense heat for now. The desk phone started to ring. Charlotte wasted no time rushing over to the desk to grab it and answer. "Hello?" Her face lit up in a wide smile. "Oh, hey Tony! You just get back in town?"  "Yeah, I'm back. Put Venus on the phone."  Before Charlotte had a chance to hand the phone over, Venus grabbed the receiver and pulled it from her. "Hey baby. I'm glad you called, I was getting bored in here."  Tony laughed. "Oh yeah? I'm back from my little trip. I'll tell you about it when we're home."  "Are you home now?"  "No, not yet. I'm coming by to pick you up and go home. I'm in the car using the phone from it. Get ready, I'm about to pick you up." That reply made Venus smile. She was saved from the heat of the day. The phone clicked and hung up. She got up from her black leather chair and stretched her arms out. She grabbed her sunglasses off the shelf behind her and her purse. She then turned to Charlotte as she began to walk out the door. "You're closing shop today. I expect you'll be back at the hotel after you lock the doors?" Charlotte nodded. "Yes, just like you showed me."  Venus nodded as she stepped out the door. She slipped on the sunglasses and then stomped out of the back room, taking the back exit like she always did when Tony came to pick her up. The sunlight and heat was overwhelming outside with no shade to cover her. She stood around and waited to see that slick, black Mercedes Benz 300SD pull into the parking lot. Tony beeped the horn in a playful gesture as she dashed to the front passenger side door and opened it up. She got in, smiling as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. With her seat belt strapped on, Tony shifted gears to pull out. "Thank God we're going home. It has been so fucking hot today in the salon." She let out another sigh while leaning back in the seat.  Tony had used the built in-phone inside the car to call her. He hated using a cellphone or a landline to make calls. One quick phone call on the road was untraceable. The brick sized cellphone they kept in his office was used only to make deals with established contacts and given to trustworthy people. Venus had a burner phone and pager she made Charlotte use for arranging the escorts with their clients. Every other call had to be made via payphone as a testament of caution.  "How was your trip?" Venus turned to look at him after asking her question. Tony just shook his head. "It's too hot up north, I can tell you that. I did get some of the guns, but not the stuff I wanted."  She turned to gaze out the window, watching the streets pass in a blur. The deal to acquire an ownership stake in the Sunburst Motel had left them in a bit of a bind. The drug deals had slowed down to a complete halt with no major deal to give dealers a steady supply on the street. Tony still had 20 keys of pure Colombian cocaine sitting and ready to be sold. Those were saved for a big time deal, one that was worth months of waiting.  Starting over from the ground up, Tony was left with much debt and an organization in shambles before he made that trip to the Bahamas and met Venus. They had been slowly working their way to rebuild the organizational structure of the cartel, piece by piece, one step at a time. The beauty salon and hotel were part's of her business. All of that involved the escorts Venus ruled over with authority. Tony did not interfere with her business. He kept his drug games away from those girls, so they could not be pinched by narcs on sting operations.  This was his first day back after a 3 day trip to Fort Lauderdale following a lead on a gun supplier. Tony had arrived too late after the dealer had sold his stock of military grade assault rifles to other people on the streets. The least he was able to get his hands on was a MAC-10 submachine gun and a few pistols. He still wanted better firepower than this. Assault rifles would be needed for securing defenses around territory in the near future. All of that would be discussed hours after unwinding at at their Coconut Grove home. After dinner, the sun was beginning to set outside. The air conditioned house brought Tony and Venus both comfort, as well as the security guards inside and their personnel.  In the living room, Tony had lined up the cache of weapons he was able to purchase from the dealer in Fort Lauderdale. They were spread out across the refectory table on a white towel. The MAC-10 sat in the middle with two black Colt series pistols to the left, and two chrome plated Smith & Wesson 4506s on the right. Venus stood in front of the table, bending over to inspect the guns. Neither she or Tony would be wielding them, since they had their own handguns with holsters upstairs in his office.  "These aren't too bad. We can never have enough guns, but I know you wanted those rifles." Tony sat on the couch, legs crossed as he watched her study the guns. Venus grabbed the MAC-10 to get a better look at it. "Did your contact ever get back to you about those biker guys from California? Felix said they were interested in a deal."  Venus' lit up with a smile on her face as she turned to look at him. "Oh yes, they were interested! I think we get a deal with them."  "That would be great! Let's go upstairs and start arranging things."  Up the spiraling staircases and into the first room was the massive office Tony did all his business in. The night hours would soon commence as he sat down in the desk chair. Venus grabbed the brick sized cellphone and pulled the antenna out before handing it over to Tony. The time had come to give Felix a call. Tony pressed in the numbers and raised the phone up to his ear. It rang a few times before someone answered.  "This is Felix."  "Hey Felix, it's Tony."  "Tony! Are you back in town?"  "Yeah, sort of. I need to talk to you about something. You remember the biker guys? I'm ready to get that deal going."  "Oh yeah, I remember. Call me from a payphone tomorrow around 8 AM."  The phone clicked hanging up. Tony set it down on his desk and leaned back in the chair. His eyes wandered over to Venus. "I've gotta call him back from a payphone sometime past eight tomorrow." Venus nodded. They now had an evening all to themselves before business tomorrow.  Felix was a man known as 'eyes and ears' out in the streets. A second generation Cuban born man with shadowy connections to organized crime spread across town. Miami was home to various different groups operating. Cubans, Colombians, Venezuelans. Everyone followed their own code and kept around their own people. Before Tony's arrival in town, Miami had one Cuban Mafiosi trying to organize other Cubans under one flag. Frank Lopez was long gone with Tony taking over his business and forming the Montana Cartel. Tony's ultimate goal was to form some kind of collective among the Cubans, similar to the Mafia groups he had heard. So far, he had a small crew but the books would need to be opened in the future to have new members made. People like Felix were useful for knowing the streets. He worked as a middleman of sorts between dealers and negotiator with groups outside of Miami. His connections were resourceful enough to get him in contact with the Night Lords MC. Felix had originally approached Venus about the opportunity, one night when she and Tony were together at the Babylon club. As the middleman, it would be Felix's duty to arrange a meeting between both parties with protection away from the watchful eyes of law enforcement.  Tony found Felix over a year ago. He had connections with a drug smuggler known as Schuler and a dancer downtown by the name of Cassie. Schuler went by the funny nickname of "the delivery man". He hated using boats, only making use of his private planes to fly in and out of Colombia making drops in the Everglades. Cassie on the other hand was something of a celebrity in Miami known for her dancing talents. She worked at one of the biggest strip clubs Downtown, making a reputation for herself as a big earner. Cassie knew every player in town and how to get a hold of the ones who paid her under the table for private dances. That made her a resourceful connection to keep around.  The next morning, Tony and Venus got up and prepared themselves for a trip into town. The clock on her gold watch read 8:12 by the time they pulled up in a parking lot outside a hardware store. A row of payphones sat in the grass. Tony got out of the driver's door with some spare quarters in his hand as he walked to one of the phones and picked it up. He deposited the quarters and then pressed the buttons to dial Felix's phone.  "Hey, it's Tony. You said to call this early, so I'm ready. I've got Venus with me, so I don't want to wait. Let's get to work before it gets real hot." "We'll get right on it." To be continued... 08: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

03/30/2023  Montana Roundtable March The official 'state of the union or whatever you want to call it', in Tony's words was an old style meeting to address the current standing of where the Montana Organization stood in terms of operation and current business.  The meeting took place in his office at home on the opposite side of the room, away from the desk. Two large black leather chairs were arranged for himself and Venus to sit and discuss. Venus sat on the right side while Tony took the chair to the left. An ashtray for a cigar was on the little table next to his, while Venus had a glass of wine.  Venus had quickly risen to an important position within the Montana organization. Tony found her in the Bahamas. What happened there had quickly become an afterthought, as she was now his partner in running the business. She was far more than his lover by this point in their relationship. Standing in the room was a tall, muscular built man. His tattooed body was hidden thanks to a suit he wore for this meeting. Any other time when people saw Tino, he wore muscle shirts to reveal his many prison tattoos and artwork for gang affiliations. Tino was considered oldschool by street code. He was not a made man, but had proven himself years in the past as a reliable hired man on the street. That was before he went to prison on a coke charge. Tino kept quiet while he served his time and that respect had to be repaid now.  "This day's been a long time coming. Finally a free man, no longer stuck in a cage." "You got that right, man." Tino laughed after Tony's remark. Tony gestured with his hand for him to lean closer. Venus watched as Tony pulled out a wad of cash from inside his jacket and handed it back to the newly free man. "That's two thousand dollars to get started on the street. Do whatever you want with that money, but know that tomorrow morning, you've got a job. I want you to find Venus' salon. You go there and watch over things for her. You got it?" Tino nodded. "Yes, I got it, thank you Tony."  His eyes turned to Venus, who was his true boss now. Tony had promised her he would give her someone reliable to beef up security at the salon and help run her new business.  "Tomorrow morning at 6 AM, don't be a minute late." Venus gave him his first order before the man quietly left the room, leaving the boss and underboss alone now to discuss the rest of their business together. "Alright, Tino works under you now. Next up, I need to call that kid Luis. He's gonna be our driver. I owed him a job and it's time to give it to him." Luis was the son of Diego Garcia, a legendary figure before Tony's era. There were many stories of Diego running a nightclub and hotel from the seventies in the beginning of the cocaine boom. He died unexpectedly of a heart attack shortly after Tony met him. His son had the lifestyle of a prince that had been torn away and replaced with hardships his father had fought to overcome for a comfortable life. Other people in town had made empty promises to the young man, so Tony had a point to prove by giving him a job.  "I'm working in that girl Leah I found off the street. I told her to come back and I'd give her a job. She's stuck around the salon so far." Venus crossed her legs after speaking. "That sounds good. See what she's made of. Give her a test and see how she does." Leah was some poor girl that Venus found on the street a few weeks ago. She offered her a job, to keep the girl from starving to death. Since then, Venus could not keep her away from the salon. There was potential in her, if she could be a righthand woman. It was now on Venus to test if Leah had a trigger finger in her, and only then would she be worthy of meeting the boss himself. "So you've got Tino, Leah and then your girls helping around there. That's Charlotte and Maria with jobs." Venus nodded at his words before she replied. "Yes, but I think they need a place of their own. Like a big house or something." "Don't worry about that, baby. I know just the place. I need to pay a visit to the Sunburst Hotel. I think it could use some new management." Venus sat back and relaxed. Her end of the business was taken care of. The organization was still small in this rebuild status, leaving Tony's side to be the one that needed to be addressed now. "Once we get the hotel, we need to finally unload those 20 keys of yeyo we've been sitting on since we met in the Bahamas. We're gonna need to spend some money soon." And with that, a new list of objectives for business was made: •Acquire the Sunburst Hotel. •Find a trade partner to sell 20 keys of cocaine. •Leah must 'make her bones' in a grand display of loyalty. 10: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

08/13/2022  Paradise Lost The following is an article published in Time magazine, from November 23 1981 South Florida: Trouble in Paradise By James Kelly. Reported by Bernard Diederich and William McWhirter/Miami November. The days grow short, the nights cold. Time to reach for that travel brochure for, where else, South Florida, America’s favorite winter playground. Hmmm, let’s see now. Here is a picture of palm trees swaying gently under a cottony blue sky while a family frolics in the foamy surf. Here is a snowy white heron flitting along a river of sea grass in the Everglades, the mangrove and palmetto serene as a Sunday morning. There is a creamy stucco Palm Beach mansion, its red tile roof glinting fiercely in the sun and bougainvillea rioting, colorfully in the yard. And, of course, a couple of sunburned senior citizens of Miami Beach, he in a Hawaiian shirt and she in purple culottes, waiting their turn on the shuffleboard court. Those snapshots of life in South Florida are as accurate today as they were a generation ago. But they are being crowded out by some altogether different scenes, a collection of photos not found in any Chamber of Commerce travel brochure. Here is a picture of a policeman leaning over the body of a Miamian whose throat has been slit and wallet emptied. There is a sleek V-planed speedboat, stripped of galleys and bunks and loaded with a half-ton of marijuana, skimming across the waters of Biscayne Bay. Here are a handful of ragged Cuban refugees, living in a tent pitched beneath a highway overpass. South Florida—that postcard corner of the Sunshine State, that lush strip of hibiscus and condominiums stretching roughly from Palm Beach south to Key West—is a region in trouble. An epidemic of violent crime, a plague of illicit drugs and a tidal wave of refugees have slammed into South Florida with the destructive power of a hurricane. Those three forces, and a number of lesser ills, threaten to turn one of the nation’s most prosperous, congenial and naturally gorgeous regions into a paradise lost. Consider what South Florida is up against: > When the FBI issued its annual list of the ten most crime-ridden cities in the nation last September, three of them were in South Florida: Miami (pop. 347,000) was in first place, West Palm Beach (pop. 63,000) was fifth and Fort Lauderdale (pop. 153,000) was eighth. Miami last year had the nation’s highest murder rate, 70 per 100,000 residents, and this year’s pace has been even higher. > An estimated 70% of all marijuana and cocaine imported into the U.S. passes through South Florida. Drug smuggling could be the region’s major industry, worth anywhere from $7 billion to $12 billion a year (vs. $12 billion for real estate and $9 billion for tourism, the area’s two biggest legitimate businesses). Miami’s Federal Reserve branch has a currency surplus of $5 billion, mostly in drug-generated $50 and $100 bills, or more than the nation’s twelve Federal Reserve banks combined. Drug money has corrupted banking, real estate, law enforcement and even the fishing industry, whose practitioners are abandoning the pursuit of snapper and grouper for the transport of bales of marijuana (“square grouper,” as fishermen call it) from freighters at sea to the mainland. About one-third of the region’s murders are drug-related. > Since the spring of 1980, when Cuban President Fidel Castro opened the port of Mariel to those who wanted to leave, about 125,000 “Marielitos” have landed in South Florida. In addition, 25,000 refugees have arrived from Haiti; boatloads of half-starved Haitians are washing up on the area’s beaches every week. The wave of illegal immigrants has pushed up unemployment, taxed social services, irritated racial tensions and helped send the crime rate to staggering heights. Marielitos are believed to be responsible for half of all violent crime in Miami. To a visitor. South Florida still looks like the Sunbelt’s shiniest jewel. New hotels and office towers are rising in Miami, and once sleepy towns near by are growing skylines of their own. The Rolls-Royces still roll royally along Palm Beach’s Worth Avenue, and Fort Lauderdale is, as ever, where boy meets girl every aster vacation. Over the past two decades, South Florida in general, and Miami in particular, lave undergone a Latin-flavored business boom that is putting much of the glitter back into the Gold Coast. Some 12.6 mildon foreigners, most of them Spanish speaking, visited the Miami area last year. At least 100 multinational companies now maintain their Latin American headquarters in South Florida. Though economic and political woes in Latin America are expected to slow the influx of tourists from the south, Miami will no doubt remain, as the late President Jaime Roldós of Ecuador put it, the “capital of Latin America.” The Latins are gradually turning the region into their own colony. Of the 1.7 million residents of Dade County (Miami and environs), 39% are Hispanic (vs. 44% white and 17% black). It is estimated that by 1985 the Latins will become a majority in Dade, outnumbering non-Latin whites 43% to 42%. The Latin influence is so strong that the mayoral run-off election in Miami last week was a hard-fought battle between two Hispanics, Puerto Rican-born Incumbent Maurice Ferré and Challenger Manolo Reboso, a Cuban-born former city commissioner. Ferré was re-elected for a fifth two-year term. Yet to many Anglos and Hispanics, South Florida is becoming a nice place to visit—but. Indeed, some of the would-be visitors are staying home. Though revenues from tourism are expected to rise by 1¼% this year, hotel occupancy rates in Dade County are down by as much as 25% from last year, and only by raising room prices by an average of 20% have many resorts managed to stay in business. The area’s real estate boom, which doubled the price of an average one-family house between 1978 and 1980, has virtually stopped dead. Even the environment, long the region’s most attractive asset, is showing signs of wear. Decades of economic growth threaten to outstrip the water supply; water is occasionally rationed in some parts of the area. “We’re at a crossroads,” says Jane Cousins, a leading Miami real estate agent. “No city in the world has ever had happen to it what has happened to us.” What did happen? The answer lies partly in the region’s geography and partly in its history. The area is a natural Ellis Island for all those coming, for whatever reason, from the Caribbean and points south. The region’s benign climate and studied informality have long made it prime destination for Americans on the make, on the lam or on a pension. With it hundreds of miles of coves and inlets, the area is also an ideal port of entry for boat laden with drugs, or any other cargo wor thy of the smuggler’s interest. When Ponce de León first sighted thi shores of what he believed was an island on a balmy March day in 1513, he named it Florida (full of flowers), in honor of the Easter season. The region was settled slowly, even reluctantly. South Florida, in particular, was terra incognita. The Florida land commission described it in 1823 as a place “of half-deluged plains, deep morasses, and almost inaccessible forests . . . a home only for beasts, or for men little elevated above beasts.” One of those a bit more elevated was a young Cleveland widow by the name of Julia Tuttle, who moved to Miami in the 1870s. The city then was a makeshift village of shacks and sand trails hacked out of palmetto groves. When a freeze destroyed the citrus crop of central Florida in 1894, Tuttle picked a bouquet of orange blossoms untouched by the frost and sent it to Financier Henry Flagler as proof that South Florida was worth a look. Flagler, who was already building up St. Augustine, came, saw and was conquered; he built a railway to Miami and beyond, all the way to Key West. During World War I, the Government put a number of training camps in Florida, and after the war ended, some of the doughboys returned. The first great Florida land boom was under way. Hundreds of thousands streamed into the state, some 2.5 million people in 1925 alone, to stake out their lot in the sun. Many bought their land sight unseen, and some found themselves proud owners of swamps and tidal marshes. The boom went bust in 1926 when Northern banks stopped writing mortgages on Florida lots and a savage hurricane lashed Miami, killing several hundred people. Florida’s fortunes ballooned again after World War II, in part because a new wave of doughboys hit its beaches. From 1950 to 1960 the population of South Florida doubled to 1.5 million, and during the 1960s swelled to 2.2 million. The wave has yet to crest. South Florida grew at an annual rate of 44% during the 1970s, four times the national average, to its present 3.3 million. South Florida has perhaps grown too fast ever to grow up. “We are still longing for maturity,” says Miami Historian Arva Parks. “We have always been vulnerable to certain kinds of people, so that when opportunity knocked, exploitation answered.” Even today, most of those who live in the area grew up somewhere else, and their sense of community may extend only as far as the K mart down the street. “You can’t compare us to Boston or Denver,” says Mayor Ferre. “Our people’s roots are always somewhere else.” By far the most visible problem in this rootless region is crime. South Floridians talk about crime the way people elsewhere talk about sports or politics. Listen, for example, to Carole Masington, the wife of an attorney, who lives in a well-to-do suburb of South Miami: “We had two manhunts in my neighborhood in one week. One friend was mugged, another was assaulted and raped. My favorite storekeeper was beaten and hospitalized, and my mother was robbed twice. And I am just one person.” Or hear the Rev. Paul MacVittie, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in downtown Miami: “My car has been broken into three times, my house has been robbed once, and my 15-year-old son was mugged.” His wife, Robin, was mugged, shot and severely wounded in a Coconut Grove shopping center. The three Gibb brothers, known as the Bee Gees, live in a wealthy enclave in Miami Beach. Barry Gibb’s wife Lynda had her purse snatched. The trio’s father Hugh Gibb was mugged. “No woman should be alone in this city,” says Barry. “Or man,” adds Bee Gee Brother Robin. Residents of nearby Golden Beach obviously agree: the city council voted last month to close six of the seven streets leading into town, and place a gate and a guard at the seventh. The bloodiest crimes tend to be committed by drug dealers and refugees, and often that warfare is intramural. One man was shot as he walked from his apartment building in Miami; injured, he was taken to Miami’s Mercy Hospital where he was again shot, this time fatally, in his bed. As Elio Gonzalez and his twelve-year-old son Eric were getting out of their car in front of their home in North Miami, another car raced by spraying machine-gun fire; both father and son were killed. (Twentythree percent of Miami’s murders last year were committed with machine guns, a favorite weapon of drug dealers.) So many bodies now fill the Miami morgue that Dade County Medical Examiner Joe Davis has rented a refrigerated hamburger van to house the overflow. “If you stay here, you arm yourself to the teeth, put bars on the windows and stay at home at all times,” says Arthur Patten, a Miami insurance executive. “I’ve been through two wars and no combat zone is as dangerous as Dade County.” As terrified residents search for protection, the region is beginning to be as armed as a military base. In the past five years, 220,000 guns have been sold in Dade County—an average of more than seven guns for every new household. So far this year, gun sales in the county have risen 46% over 1980, to a record 66,198. It is easier to buy a pistol than an automobile in Florida, where the gun lobby has frustrated virtually all attempts at handgun controls. Even the Rev. MacVittie has purchased a revolver to keep in his home. “That is one hell of a way to live,” he says. Adds Janet Cooper, a legal researcher who lives in Miami: “I see people walking down the streets openly carrying guns, some in their hands, others in their holsters. You don’t dare honk your horn at anybody; you could end up dead.” Besides buying such standard gear as pistols and window grates, residents are purchasing attack dogs, alarms that scream out “Burglar! burglar!” and even armor-plated cars usually made for export to the war zones of Central America. George Wackenhut, who heads a giant Coral Gables-based security firm that bears his name, has watched his business in South Florida grow by 22% this year. “When I was growing up, a murder story used to be good for ten days in the papers,” says Wackenhut, a onetime FBI agent. “Here a morning kill may not even make the afternoon news.” South Florida is just beginning to be the crime capital of the nation, but it has been the drug capital for a decade. Smuggling dope into the region is about as difficult as buying a souvenir in Miami Beach. “They land it in everything but a bathtub,” marvels Patrolman Doug Morris of the Dade County public safety marine patrol, whose dozen men and six boats help patrol the 550 sq. mi. of county waterways. “Hell, they even fly coke in from a ship in one of those remote-controlled toy planes and land it on a bayshore condo.” A favorite strategy of marijuana smugglers is for a drug-laden “mother ship,” usually an aging freighter, to sail from Colombia or the Caribbean and then stay bobbing 50 miles or so off the Florida coast. On long hauls, drug runners motor out to the mother ship in yachts and fishing boats to pick up the cargo and then shuttle back to the mainland, docking anywhere along some 3,000 miles of South Florida coastline; on shorter hauls, they roar out in souped-up racing speedboats, called “cigarette” boats after the tobacco-bootlegging vessels of the 1930s. Costing as much as $250,000 and able to reach speeds of up to 70 m.p.h., many of the cigarette boats are outfitted with such sophisticated equipment as radar scanners and infra-red night-vision scopes. Cocaine, however, is usually flown into the U.S. by airplane. Customs officials estimate that some 80 planes secretly land in the U.S. every night carrying cargos of white powder, most of them landing in South Florida. Battling the dope runners are the combined forces of the U.S. Customs Service the Coast Guard and the Drug Enforcement Administration, as well as local lawmen. But they all are fighting a losing battle. Last year law enforcement officials seized 3.2 million Ibs. of marijuana, with a street value of $ 1.3 billion, and 2,353 Ibs. of cocaine worth $5.8 billion, in and around South Florida. So much dope was seized that the police began trucking it to the Florida Power and Light Co. to burn in its generators (732 Ibs. of marijuana equal 1 bbl. of oil, one of the odder statistics to emerge from the region). Yet officials estimate that perhaps as much as ten times the amount seized was smuggled into the region. At the moment, Bade County police have a stash of 162,000 Ibs. of marijuana waiting to be entered as evidence in court cases. The Customs Service has 200 seized cigarette boats and 50 airplanes, including a World War II-era A26 bomber that was, ironically, used by Customs agents on drug cases before it was bought by a marijuana ring. Anglos tend to work the marijuana trade, while the cocaine market is controlled by Colombians and Cubans. No matter what their specialty, the illegal entrepreneurs can be easily spotted. Young Anglos wearing scruffy Levi’s and T shirts, gold Rolex watches and ropes of gold chain sit around the marinas waiting for the next call from a mother ship. Current pay for one night’s work piloting a “cigarette” averages $50,000, while the wages for unloading the bales are $5,000 to $10,000 a night. Cuban dealers favor Mercedes Benzes and bodyguards dressed in dark suits and carrying two guns (one under the coat and one strapped to the ankle). José Medrano Alvero Cruz, nicknamed El Padrino, always travels in a Rolls-Royce protected by cars full of bodyguards. Alvero, who is fond of listening to the theme song from The Godfather on his car stereo, never talks on the telephone and keeps himself insulated from any drug deal through relatives and friends. Nevertheless, he was recently convicted for tax evasion. The Colombians are the most secretive of all, preferring to keep the business in the family. Officials estimate that there are from 50 to 150 top Colombian traffickers in South Florida, with another 200 or so middle-level managers. Wives, brothers, sisters and children all help out. That is one reason why narcotics agents have failed to break any of the big coke rings in the area. “Say I have 75 pounds of coke that has just come in,” explains “Bena-vides,” a Colombian-born drug dealer who lives in Miami. “Who am I going to trust better than my brother? I take it to his place. After all, I am paying the rent.” Beyond the ties of kinship lurks the threat of death, and revenge killings among the cocaine traders certainly contribute to South Florida’s crime rate. Drug shootouts are becoming a frequent sight in certain parts of Miami. At a busy intersection in Coral Gables last month, for example, a Mercedes Benz was suddenly surrounded and its 30-year-old Colombian driver killed in a burst of machine-gun fire. The billions in narcobucks, as police have dubbed the drug money, allow its recipients to buy, in cash, $1 million waterfront homes, $50,000 Mercedes and $400 bottles of wine. One drug kingpin alone has bought up some $20 million worth of prime Miami real estate. Says Miami Financial Analyst Charles Kimball: “Criminals have become conspicuous buyers of some of the best properties in South Florida.” Most, if not all, of Miami’s 250 banks have drug money in their accounts. As many as 40 banks still neglect to report cash deposits of $10,000 or more, as required by law. And at least four banks, according to law enforcement officials, are controlled by drug dealers. Treasury Department investigators have long suspected that some smaller banks, known as Coin-o-Washes among both cops and criminals, were founded primarily to launder money for the drug trade (see box). Perhaps the most valuable commodity bought by all that cash is freedom. Once caught, suspected drug dealers are often released on bail of $1 million or more. They typically pay it within hours, sometimes in cash, and skip town. Dealers regard the forfeited bail as merely a cost of doing business. If a prosecutor’s case is airtight, money can sometimes pry it open. “We pay for what we need as we need it,” one lawyer bragged to TIME. “If we can’t bribe the cop, we try to bribe the prosecutor and, if we can’t get the prosecutor, we try to buy the judge.” Next to crime and drugs, South Florida’s most pressing problem is refugees. The 125,000 Marielitos who fled Cuba last year have strained the area’s economy and aggravated its racial tensions, perhaps irretrievably. Nothing infuriates South Floridians as much as the deeds of the convicts and mental patients Castro sent along with the rest of the fleeing Cubans. Officials estimate that as many as 5,000 Marielitos are hard-core criminals. This year 53 refugees have been arrested in Miami for murder, and many more have been jailed for rapes and robberies. Fifty-one Marielitos themselves have been killed in Miami this year, most of them by other Marielitos. More than a quarter of those in Dade County jails are refugees. The innocent Marielitos constitute a different kind of burden to South Florida. Some 25% are without work: their numbers helped raise unemployment in Dade County from 5.7% to an estimated 13%, though they are not included in the official figure of 7.4%. Welfare rolls have jumped by a third, while some 16,000 refugee children have crowded into the classrooms of Dade County public schools. Yet the budget cuts planned by the Reagan Administration are expected to shave refugee aid to Florida in this fiscal year, leaving the county with an added tab of $30 million for its unexpected guests. Perhaps the saddest dilemma facing South Florida is the plight of the refugees from Haiti. Law enforcement officials pick up about 500 Haitians a month on Florida’s beaches, but probably just as many slip in without getting caught. The 600-mile journey from Haiti is often arduous, a measure of how desperately Haitians want to leave their country. Many sell all their possessions and hire professional smugglers, who often starve them, beat them, or even dump them overboard. Others pool their money to buy a makeshift boat and then hire a local fisherman, who may know little about navigation, to bring them to America. The trip can easily end in tragedy, as happened when a rickety 30-ft. sailboat carrying 63 Haitians was swamped in the Florida surf last month, claiming the lives of 33. Still they come, for Haiti is both a desperately poor country—its per capita income of $260 a year is among the world’s lowest—and an oppressive dictatorship, ruled by Jean-Claude (“Baby Doc”) Duvalier. The Reagan Administration holds that nearly all the Haitian refugees are fleeing their country to escape poverty, not repression, and are thus not eligible to be admitted as political refugees. Others believe that many of the refugees are indeed entitled to political asylum, and cite evidence of those returned being beaten and tortured in Haitian prisons. As Father Gérard Jean-Juste, a Haitian exile leader, puts it, “There’s a song being sung in Haiti now: ‘The teeth of the sharks are sweeter than Duvalier’s hell.’ “ Some 1,000 Haitians are in Dade County’s Krome Avenue North Detention Center, which is designed for no more than 530 people. The fortunate former detainees who have been released to sponsors are likely to be found in Little Haiti, the neighborhood north of 36th Street in Miami. “The Haitians take care of each other as well as they can,” says Fernand Cayard, owner of a local supermarket. “No one is sleeping on the streets.” Jean François, a 25-year-old Haitian, shares a three-bedroom wooden frame house with 19 fellow refugees. “Everyone sleeps in shifts,” explains François. “He who works gets the shift of his choice. Those who can pay help pay the rent.” Not all the foreign newcomers to South Florida are poor. Inspired by the Nicaraguans who fled their country after the downfall of President Anastasio Somoza in 1979, wealthy families from El Salvador, Guatemala, Venezuela and Argentina are nervously preparing a South Florida refuge in case their own governments totter. They are pouring their fortunes into Miami banks; it is estimated that as much as $4 billion in Latin exile money is socked away in Miami. Hope Somoza, the widow of the Nicaraguan President, lives in Key Biscayne. Nicole Duvalier, who opposes her brother Baby Doc, owns a sumptuous home in southwest Miami. The son of the late Fulgencio Batista, former President of Cuba, works as a model in Fort Lauderdale. A retired leader of the Tonton Macoute, the Haitian secret police, lives in Miami. Says one leading political exile, alive and well in Key Biscayne: “God, all I have to do is go out to the pool and I find everyone I knew there here. They are all speaking Spanish and walking around in their bathing trunks.” The most visible exiles remain the Nicaraguans, and along with their bank accounts they have brought a distinct brand of right-wing politics. As they mingle in South Florida society, they become the sad spokesmen of old allegiances and lost causes. “Juan Carlos,” an exile who once ran a match factory in Nicaragua, now commutes from Honduras to Miami in search of funds for his guerrilla forays into his old homeland. “What they are doing is putting on a road show that they hope someone will see and support,” says a veteran political exile. “The Bay of Pigs was born in Miami, and they can’t help feeling another Bay of Pigs is being prepared for Nicaragua.” The Latin tinge that now colors South Florida is still primarily Cuban. The refugees who began arriving from Castro’s island in the early 1960s were largely middle-class professionals, and over the past two decades they have transformed Miami from a resort town into an international city where “buenos dias” and frijoles negros are as familiar as “good morning” and hamburgers. The signs of Cuban influence are everywhere. Miami’s Little Havana, the epicenter of the Cuban community that stretches along Eighth Street (or Calle Ocho,) is a foreign land. In Antonio Maceo Park (named for a black Cuban patriot), old Cubans pass the time playing dominoes or reading Spanish-language newspapers that carry headlines like THE PLAN TO INVADE CUBA IS READY. The Miami Herald, the city’s largest newspaper, is printed daily in Spanish as El Herald. Its circulation: 421,236 in English; 60,000 in Spanish. Three television stations and seven radio stations in South Florida broadcast Spanish programs. There are six Spanish legitimate theaters, two ballet troupes and a light opera company. Some stores in Little Havana even carry the helpful message: Habla inglés. Yet just beneath that cosmopolitan veneer, ready to erupt, are tensions between the Cubans and their fellow Floridians. Dade County voters last year approved, 3 to 2, an ordinance that forbids the spending of its public funds to promote bilingualism. The bad blood has risen dramatically since the arrival of the Marielitos last year. Whites in particular resent picking up the tab of caring for the newcomers, but the animosity spills over on all Cubans. “I wonder who really upsets whites the most,” says Monsignor Bryan Walsh, who ran a resettlement program for Cuban children in the 1960s, “the poor Cuban on welfare or the rich Cuban with three Cadillacs and a Mercedes out buying the county.” The blacks are upset by both kinds of Cubans. Stuck on the bottom rung of South Florida’s economic ladder, they have always resented the more prosperous Cuban minority. With the arrival of the Marielitos, blacks feared that they would lose out in the scramble for the few low-skill jobs avail able in the region. Even in Liberty City, the black enclave in North Miami where 18 people died in last year’s riot, the Latin influence is apparent. White store owners who abandoned their businesses are being replaced by Latin landlords. “The only things blacks have in Miami are several hundred churches and funeral homes,” says Johnny Jones, a former Dade County school superintendent. “After a generation of being Southern slaves, blacks now face a future as Latin slaves.” Ironically, the Cubans themselves are a divided community. La Comunidad, as the older Cubans are called, fears the Marielitos will tarnish the reputation they have labored so hard to build in South Florida. “I tell my employees that if a black comes here asking for money, give it to him,” says one prosperous Cuban gas station owner in Little Havana. “If an Anglo comes to rob us, give it to him. But if a Marielito comes here, kill him. I will pay for everything.” The older Cubans also find themselves in a cultural and political split with the younger ones, who tend to split with the younger ones, who tend to be less conservative and less committed to the homeland than their elders. While an older Cuban might listen for hours to a Spanish-language station blasting out anti-Castro messages, the younger one is more inclined to tune to a rock station. The shocks of crime, drugs and cultural tensions have already spawned the beginnings of an Anglo exodus from Miami and its environs. Some 95% of election registrations now being canceled by citizens leaving the region come from white voters. Says Jeff Laner, 26, a native of Miami who moved this year to work as a stockbroker in Kansas City: “I was going to be damned if I had to learn a foreign language to get a job where I had lived all my life.” South Floridians dedicated to easing the strains within the region found little comfort in this month’s mayoral election in Miami. The campaign managed to avoid nearly all the major issues and instead dwelt on which of the two major candidates was more Latin: Mayor Maurice Ferre, or Manolo Reboso, who took part in the Bay of Pigs invasion. Reboso courted the votes of Cubans, while Ferre made his strongest pitches to Anglos and blacks. The results of last week’s runoff election show just how bitterly Miami is polarized. Reboso drew 70% of the Cuban vote, while Ferre attracted an astounding 95% of the black vote (the pair split the Anglo vote about evenly). The Anglos were so alienated by the race that only 38% of those eligible to vote bothered to do so, while 58% of the Latin voters and more than 50% of the blacks went to the polls. “We’ve become a boiling pot, not a melting pot,” says Mayor Ferre. “The Anglos can’t adapt. They can’t take it, so they’re moving.” South Floridians tend to compare their current woes to such earlier cataclysms street the 1926 hurricane that devastated Miami or the colossal land failures of the late 1920 that turned millionaires into paupers overnight. The region’s present agonies, they argue, are due more to a random run of bad luck than anything that could have been prevented. “The people’s attitude is, ‘Damn it, I am down here to avoid problems, not have them,’ ” says Governor Bob Graham, a Dade County native. ” ‘Now I have them.’ How do you deal with these issues in a political climate that demands instant gratification?” Says Dan Paul, one of Miami’s most prominent attorneys: “There is no real interest here in preserving or creating a quality of life. I don’t think there is any real community outrage about the drug trade. I push at the junior lawyers here to join civic groups instead of playing racquetball. They’re not interested.” The region’s political map seems almost giddily drawn to avoid grappling with any such problems. Community boundaries dart haphazardly: they were often drawn by developers who wanted to run their towns as well as build them. The 2,042-sq.-mi. area of Dade County, for example, is now governed by 27 separate and often rival municipal governments. Dade County attempted to draw some order out of its political chaos in 1959 by combining such common services as transportation and sewer systems. But the 27 towns still raise their own taxes, pass their own zoning ordinances and run their own fire and police departments. The result is that the region confronts major crises that could break the will of many communities, while being cursed with a political system that hardly functions well in the best of times. Some steps are being taken: the Dade County public safety department is now beefing up its 1,726-member force with 1,000 new recruits (starting salary: $17,800). Another 100 U.S. Customs Service agents have been assigned to the region to chase down drug smugglers. South Florida can also look for help from Governor Graham. He is constantly lobbying Washington for more aid, and earlier this year he met with Baby Doc Duvalier in Haiti to discuss ways to staunch the flow of refugees. He lent 100 additional state troopers to Miami this year, and hopes to assign 115 troopers to Dade County permanently by the end of 1982. Meanwhile, local officials are busily attempting to woo more companies to the region and to turn Miami into an interna tional tional trading trading center. center. Rolls-Royce Rolls-Royce Inc. Inc. opened an aircraft engine part machining plant at Miami International Airport this year, and a number of electronics, pharmaceutical and medical-equipment companies are moving into the region. The Miami Free Zone, one of dozens of free-trade districts in the U.S. where imported goods can be stored and assembled with out being subject to Customs duties, has handled over $326 million worth of goods this year, up from $171 million in 1980. To celebrate its hopes and achieve ments, Miami is throwing itself a $5 million cultural party next June. Billed as the “New World Festival of the Arts,” the extravaganza will feature 30 “world premieres” of operas, ballets and symphonies. Tennessee Williams, Edward Albee and Lanford Wilson have agreed to write plays for the occasion, and a new Miami ballet troupe will give its first performance. But no one pretends that a cultural blitz will gloss over South Florida’s woes. Its ultimate salvation rests in its citizens’ ability to unite and face the problems they have managed to avoid so long. In the past, South Florida’s people have never failed to rise to the challenges that have confronted them. “It’s a magic place, it always snaps back,” says Mitchell Wolfson, a prominent businessman and member of one of Miami’s founding families. Says Historian Arva Parks: “We have overcome so much already in our his tory. We have never been one for small crises. This is one more thing to overcome.” On a warm evening, as the soft Caribbean breeze stirs the hibiscus blossoms and the peal of the surf can be heard faintly in the distance, it is difficult to dwell on South Florida’s problems. “When I take visitors around in my boat at sunset, they are just awed,” says Stephen Muss, whose family owns the Fontainebleau Hilton Hotel in Miami Beach. “Where else can we ride in an open boat in winter, looking at a skyline on the horizon, cruise ships slowly turning around in the harbor, jets passing overhead, with the day ending in full color in the blue water of our bay? This is just a sensational place to live.” One image from the travel brochure that still rings true, an apt metaphor for a region blessed by God and not yet ruined by man, is the sturdy mangrove. It is found nowhere in the U.S. but Florida. With its gnarled roots stretching down into salty water that would kill most other plants, the mangrove traps silt, shelters wildlife and otherwise improves whatever it touches. Through boom and bust, hurricanes and real estate development, the mangrove has stood its ground. South Floridians surely will too. 09: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

Back to Posts