Playing Dirty (6 page)

“Well, you’re doing it,” she shot back. Then she leaned in toward me. “Come on now, I know you’ve been frolicking around with those fucking criminals you hang out with. It wouldn’t surprise me if you got pissy drunk and fell out smack-dab in the middle of the floor. Then one of Santana’s henchmen carried your ass up to the nearest bedroom and took advantage of your ass.”

I gave her a half smile. “Yeah, right! That would never happen. I’m too classy for that type of shit. And besides, you know me well enough to know that I don’t fuck the help. Maybe Santana, but not one of his flunkies!”

“Oh, so that’s who you were laid up with these last couple of days?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped.

“Well, it must be true, because you are getting a little too defensive.”

“I’m not getting defensive, I’m just a little tired.”

“How was the party anyway?”

“It was okay.” I tried to downplay it.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe. So spill your guts and tell me how it really was.”

“Look, I’m dealing with a lot right now. You could at least ask how I was doing before giving me the third degree,” I complained, quickly changing the subject, fidgeting with my keys.

She sucked her teeth. “When have I ever asked you how you are doing?” she replied sarcastically. “We talk to each other damn near every day and that question never comes out of my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck you, Maria!”

“Please spare me with that nonsense,” she answered, softening her tone and scanning me, trying to probe with her eyes. I knew just how to play it off with her. I wasn’t about to let her look in my face for a long time. There was but so much makeup could hide.

“You wanna do lunch?” she asked, already knowing the answer would be no.

“Nah, I gotta go to the office. I got work to do. You saw what just happened,” I explained, getting myself out of going to lunch with her. If I was around her a second longer, she would definitely know I had gotten high.

“Yeah, I was really surprised at Williger,” she replied.

“That’s alright. I’ll get Judge Allen on the trial and it’ll be another Choo or Santana for me,” I confidently assured her as I began to walk away.

“Look, don’t disappear again on me, bitch, or I’ll come get your ass,” she said jokingly, clearing the air between us. I was glad she gave up on her interrogation of my whereabouts. I hated to lie to her right to her face, but sometimes she left me no choice.

“I won’t,” I assured her before I slid into my car. And right when I was about to pull away, she ran toward my car and stuck her head in the driver’s-side window.

“Oh yeah, and stop fucking all of your clients and get some sleep. You look like shit! And besides, I know you don’t want to end up with a bad rep!” she said.

Her words hit me right in the gut. I wondered if she knew something or if she was just joking. You never could tell with Maria. I gave her a halfhearted smile and I pulled out. She had said I looked like shit, and that was the first time she’d said that in years. Well, little did she know, I felt like shit as well. I had to get myself back on track. I called Ophelia on her cell phone and told her to get my valet ticket from my Marc Jacobs clutch and give it to the valet I’d given that huge tip to and tell him to retrieve my Aston Martin from the Panama nightclub. With that off my mind, I was ready to get down to business.

T
he very next day Maria begged me to come over to her house. So after work I hopped in my car and drove over there. She lived in a posh, new neighborhood next to Lake Cabbas. The homes here had to be in the neighborhood of $800,000 to $1 million. The only people I could imagine living out here were judges and high-level executives. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead living out here. It reeked from the smell of family life and children running around in the streets on their fucking skateboards. I can’t deal with that type of lifestyle. (I was far from a wife and a soccer mom, so I’ve always left the two-story homes with manicured lawns to Maria. I just cross my fingers that one day she’ll find her knight in shining armor who will fuck her to death and give her a couple of kids.)

Upon my arrival she greeted me at the front door. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Thanks for coming by,” she said.

I stepped across the threshold and extended my arms to give her a hug.

“Wow! You smell good! What is that you’re wearing?” she asked.

“Agent Provocateur,” I said, making my way through the foyer. “It was something I picked up from Neiman Marcus a few weeks back.”

“Good choice,” she replied; then we both walked into the living-room area of her home.

“What’s up with the workout gear? Whatcha just come in from working out?” I asked as I took a seat on the sofa.

“Yes, I did. Our whole task force had to do a drill today. And guess who had to tag along?”

I chuckled. “You, huh?”

She sighed heavily. “Yes! And that shit liked to have killed my ass. I’ve never been worked so hard in my life.”

“I thought you said basic training was hard.”

“Yeah, it was, but when you haven’t worked out in a drill exercise in a while, then you’re bound to feel fucked-up,” she explained as she headed over to the bar area stationed in the corner of her living room. “Want a drink?” she continued as she fumbled with a couple of glasses.

“Yes! Make me a martini, please.”

“You want it shaken or stirred?”

“Shaken, please.”

“You got it,” she said as she started making the martini precisely the way I wanted it. “So, what’s new?” she continued as she fished around in a bowl of olives with a toothpick in hand.

“It’s the same ole thing, different day.”

She walked my drink over and handed it to me. “Well, a couple of my agents got a big case that’s about to go down, and the guy that they’re about to bust has money coming out the ass! He has real estate in South America and in upstate New York. The word around the office is he’s running five hundred kilos through the ports once a week. And that much coke coming into the docks without being tampered with leads me to believe that this guy has a lot of people on his payroll. So there will be a lot of people going down when this whole thing blows up.”

“Who is this guy? What’s his name?”

“Juan Alvarez.”

My mouth fell wide open. “Wait a minute, are you talking about the Juan Alvarez who owns the night club La Cienda? The drug lord from Ecuador? The motherfucker who had his daughter killed because she married one of the Gomez brothers?”

“He allegedly had his daughter murdered. He beat those charges, remember?” Maria corrected me.

“Whatever! Same damn thing!” I interjected. “So you’re telling me that this guy is about to go down?”

Maria nodded her head, and all I could see were dollar signs. “Well, when is it going to happen?”

“I can’t say because it’s confidential. But I will say that as soon as we bring him in, I’m gonna let you know, so you can be the first one on the welcome wagon.”

“Well, can you tell me if there are any informants who’d kill the case for me if I decided to pick it up?”

“There are a few, but they aren’t credible. You’d be able to eliminate them at the preliminary hearing.”

I took a sip of my drink. “It sure feels good to have contacts on the inside, but I just can’t figure out how you guys are going to catch him with his shipment. Normally, men of that caliber don’t come within ten miles of their shit.”

“I know, but word has it, a lot of his product had been disappearing after it comes through the docks, so he told his right-hand man he’s going to show up at the pier to make sure that his product gets through without any interruptions.”

“Wow! This shit sounds like I’m watching a fucking
Scarface
movie or something.”

“It’s going to look like one when my boys take his ass down.”

I smiled. “You like that cowboy-and-Indian shit, don’t you?”

“My adrenaline pumps when I talk about it. That’s why I wished I were back on the streets.”

“Girl, please get over it and leave that cop-and-robber shit to the men! All you need to do is sit back and get all the information you can get, so you can get paid. That’s it,” I told her, and took another sip of my martini.

The conversation about Mr. Alvarez lasted for another five to ten minutes, and then we started talking about Sheldon Chisholm. I didn’t have much to say about him, but Maria had a lot to say. I sat back and listened. Pretty much everything she said, I had already known, so a lot of the shit she was saying kind of went in one ear and right out the other. I was more interested in that drug bust that was about to go down. Yeah, it would be good to get the cold hard cash and the publicity for representing him, but who’s to say that he didn’t already have counsel on payroll? And if he did, then where did that leave me?

Unless I intercepted their whole operation by informing Mr. Alvarez that he was about to be taken down. I knew damn well I could get a million in cash for that type of information. And if that be the case, I’d be able to get more money in less time than if I had to represent him. What a sweet deal that would be. But then I figured, what would that do for Maria? She would be devastated if she knew I crossed her. But then, too, how would she find out?

I was sure Mr. Alvarez wouldn’t tell her, but after I let the cat out of the bag that he had an informant in his midst, shit was going to really hit the fan. I just hoped he would play it cool and keep things under wraps, because I couldn’t have my name mentioned in any form, shape, or fashion. Maria would shit on me for real! Not only that, she could lose her fucking position if it was leaked that I got the information from her. But then again, shit happens. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here and people were going to look out for themselves. I guess I was going to have to follow suit and do what I needed to stay in this game. Right now, I was trying to stay on top, and if that meant fucking people over to do it, then so be it. Maria would just have to understand.

Two martinis later I called it quits and headed to my car. Maria tried to get me to stay longer so she could talk me to death about how she was tired of not having a man, but I wasn’t up for that sob story tonight. I had to get out of there because I was on a mission.

On my way home I tried to figure out a way I was going to get in contact with Mr. Alvarez without Maria’s agents finding out. I knew it would be hard, considering they had him under surveillance. However, he did own a nightclub, and I was sure the agents didn’t have that place all wired up. It would be too hard, considering how noisy it was in there. I was sure the phones were tapped, though. So the best thing for me to do was to make my way inside the club and, hopefully, be able to have a chat with him while no one was around. As difficult as that might sound, if there’s a will, there’s a way.

After leaving Maria’s house the night before, I could only think about how I’d be able to strategically plan the perfect time to approach Mr. Alvarez. I knew time was of the essence and that I wouldn’t be able to drag this out any longer. Government agents worked odd hours—so who knew when they would execute their plan of attack? I wasn’t about to take any chances, so I finally decided to put on a provocative dress and strut my stuff into his club. The only thing I would need to worry about was how to break the news to him. That was my only concern.

“Ophelia, I need you to run me a bubble bath,” I yelled.

“Okay, ma’am,” she replied, and then I heard her run off to my bathroom.

I had no idea what I was going to wear, but I knew what image I wanted to portray. “Sexy” and “glamorous” were the only two words that popped in my head, so I searched for a dress that would give me that exact look. After sifting through at least one hundred dresses, I finally ran across the perfect one. It was a black Carolina Herrera off-the-shoulder faille dress. It stopped right above my knee, so it would look dazzling with my four-inch satin Jimmy Choo pumps and the clutch bag to match. I knew the crowd would stop and take notice of me the moment I stepped foot inside the club, which was exactly what I wanted to accomplish.

My bubble bath was warm and the suds from the bubbles felt like silk on my skin, so I lay back and relaxed in it for at least twenty minutes. When the water started getting cold, I climbed out of the tub and headed back to my bedroom to get dressed.

“Ophelia, have the valet fetch my Aston Martin, please. And tell him that I’ll be down in five minutes,” I yelled.

“Okay, ma’am,” she replied, and then she disappeared.

Once I had everything in place—my attire, my hair, and my makeup—I sprayed on my favorite fragrance and exited my home like I was Cinderella. Maria called me while I was in transit. I started not to answer her call, but I knew she’d keep ringing my phone until she got in touch with me. I exhaled right before I said hello.

“What are you getting into tonight?” she inquired.

“Oh…nothing,” I said, trying to sound like I was relaxing.

“You sound like you’re dead tired,” she commented.

“I am. But I can’t let that stop me from working.”

“Whatcha working on? One of your cases?”

I sighed. “Yes, I am, and I’m getting a headache, too.”

“Why don’t you step away from it tonight and come out with me so you can clear your head? Then tomorrow you’ll start over fresh.”

“No, I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. I’ve got work up to my neck, so the best thing for me to do is sit my ass right and continue doing what I started.”

Maria sighed. “Alright. I guess you know what works for you. But if you decide you want to hang out, give me a call.”

“I will,” I assured her; then we hung up.

I only had a couple of blocks to drive until I reached Juan Alvarez’s club. My heart was beating like crazy, but I didn’t let that stop me from continuing on with my mission. As I pulled up curbside in front of the club, the valet driver met me and took my keys in hand. I greeted him with a seductive smile and carried on about my business. The line for Mr. Alvarez’s club wrapped around the building, but I was not about to stand in it. I was too glamorous for that shit, so I entered inside through the VIP entrance. I had to pay the guy two 100-dollar bills before I was given the green light. It didn’t matter, though, because that little bit of money was just a penny in the bucket compared to what I was about to earn.

After I walked into the club, I had to climb a flight of stairs that led to the VIP room, which overlooked the entire club. It was really nice and a sight to see. Everyone who had tons of money was in the VIP section. I recognized a couple of the faces, like the infamous Valdez brothers. There were three of them and they were all very handsome. Plus they were notorious for the enormous amount of power they had. The entire family owned a massive amount of hotels and other real estate in Miami. Hailing from Colombia, they also owned massive cargos of cocaine, too. No one in any government agency had been able to bring these guys down. They had been under a microscope for a few years, I’d heard, but no busts had been made.

Another familiar face walked by me and my heart dropped. It was Juan Alvarez in the flesh, dressed in a black Armani suit. I played it off and smiled as he turned around to get another look at me. I braced myself and tried desperately to look like I fitted into this whole scene. He stopped in his tracks and walked back toward me. “You look very stunning!” he complimented me.

“Thank you very much,” I replied, and extended my hand.

“You look very familiar to me,” he said, squinting his eyes, simultaneously jogging his memory.

“You’ve probably seen me on TV”—I helped him—“I’m Yoshi Lomax, attorney-at-law.”

“Oh yes, how are you?” he asked, grabbing my hand a little firmer.

“I am fine!” I said. “I just wanted to get away from the office and come out so I could enjoy myself for once.”

“Well, you picked the right place!” he said. “Have a seat over here at the table with me and my guest.” He escorted me over to a table lined with a few members of his entourage and a couple of sleazy-looking women.

I took a seat at the very end of the table, and Mr. Alvarez took the chair next to me. It was evident that I was going to be his special guest, because immediately after we sat down, he poured both of us a glass of champagne. “Drink up. We are going to have fun tonight!” he insisted.

I took a couple of sips of my champagne and immediately started feeling the vibes in the club. The salsa music was blasting through every speaker the club had mounted on the walls and in the floors, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was apparent that everyone was there to get fucked-up and take one of these bimbos home afterward. I was there for a totally different reason. I had a motive. And my motive was to get paid. So I began to gather my words together, so they would come out of my mouth right. While I was in deep thought, Mr. Alvarez started up a conversation with me.

“So, how’s business? How long have you been an attorney?”

“Business is good. And I’ve been an attorney so long, I’ve lost track of the years.”

“What’s your acquittal rate?”

“Let’s just say that I have never lost a case.” I got cocky.

“That’s good to hear! Do you have a business card?”

“Why, of course I do,” I eagerly said, and whipped one out of my clutch and handed it to him.

He stuffed it in the inside pocket of his Armani jacket, then said, “Let’s make a toast to us.”