3:30 PM – Cheap Hotel Outside of Miami
Weekdays were her busiest days. Most people would think the weekend would be much busier but there were lots of things that people might find surprising about her line of work.
3:30 in the afternoon, her phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Her roommate Ramona exhaled a puff of smoke, “Oooh, you’ve got a live one! Better wash your nasty ass.” She cackled in a smoker’s laugh.
Karmela leaned over from her heaped up throne of hotel pillows and slid the phone off the cluttered table.
“Where is it?” Ramona asked. “Somewhere swanky?”
“Near Oceanside. One of the houses on the canal. You ever been over that way?”
“Honey-child, I been everywhere.”
“The infamous Rama-lama-ding-dong. Makin’ the rounds.”
Ramona took another hit and tried to talk and hold her breath at the same time, “How long until Guzi picks you up?” She blew the smoke and coughed.
“About two hours I’m guessing. I have to be there around 6:30. And stop smoking that shit so damn hard.”
Ramona held out the brown and grey remains of her joint, “You want some?”
“What? Some ashes and spit?” she asked sarcastically “I better not. Oceanside is a nice place. Plus I just bumped up and I am geeked as fuck.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” Ramona advised as Karmela closed the bathroom door.
She stood in front of the smudged mirror and rifled through a basket of semi-clean laundry. Once or twice worn didn’t count as dirty in her book. Not unless they had “work” stains. She laughed a little at the thought of being self-conscious about matching panties or themed outfits. The clients sure as hell didn’t care, much less notice. Something deep down made her concerned about meeting expectations or exceeding them. She was sure that most of them would fuck a slippery couch cushion if they got in a pinch. But to see someone be surprised… to make their day. That tiny little rush of ego, and the money of course, was all she had left. The only thing that felt real.
She slid on a pair of panties that said Monday just to see if Mr. Whoever would notice.
A few minutes later she came out of the bathroom and headed towards the door. Ramona was cuddled up with a half-eaten bag of generic Cheetos. An especially long bulbous bite was resting in her hand, positioned for launch into her mouth right before she passed out. A little piece of orange drool quivered at the edge of her mouth while she snored. Frozen in time.
Karmela grabbed her phone and slipped on some plain black flats. “Bye Rama-llama.” she said as she slipped out the front door and locked the deadbolt behind her. Two hours she thought. Enough time to grab a bite to eat and settle her nerves.
6:15 – Oceanside – Calamas Cay Gated Community
A tall man dressed in black tactical gear glanced out the front window. He twisted a delicate wooden rod to close the last of the open blinds. The front porch light was on and the interior lights were off. The sound of rubber soled house shoes squeaking on the Italian granite tile let him know his partner had finished securing the rear of the residence. This assignment would be one of the easier ones. The hardest part would be restraining the reflex to subdue the target.
The man in black smirked at his partner, “You look like Hugh-Fucking-Hefner. Is that a fucking wig?”
The man in the plush bathrobe and suede leather slippers ignored the jabs, “Remember. No injury to the target.”
“Sir yer sir. Mr. Hefner sir.” He gave a sharp two fingered salute.
“Seriously, she will be here any minute. Don’t mess up our plan.”
“I know. You will insist she put her shoes behind the door and I grab her. You gas her. Bing bang boom.” He said as he snapped his fingers. “That fucking wig though. That may blow the whole deal.”
“Fuck you. This wig is awesome.” He glanced at his reflection in a mirror. “This is important. No matter how easy the target.”
“Relax. Anyone could snatch a hooker.”
A red Jeep Wrangler pulled gently into the driveway. Karmela slid out of the passenger side and walked with purpose up the washed concrete driveway. The front of the house towers above her and the landscape lighting drowns the facade in a daylight-powered glow. She adjusts the bag on her shoulder and presses the doorbell. The door opened to a handsome man in his early fifties. He held two drinks near his side and beamed a polished smile. He spoke with a deep voice that was warm and comfortable.
“Six thirty one.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fashionably late is always in style I guess.”
“Sorry. It was a little further out than I thought.” A wave of her hand signaled Guzi that she was at the right address and he could leave. The Jeep rolled backwards out of the drive.
“No. No. I am only teasing. You are right on time. Please, come in and make yourself at home.” He motioned with the strawberry margarita in his right hand.
“Thank you.” She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped into the foyer. “You have a very nice home.”
“Feel free to treat it as your own. If you could do me one favor. I hate to even ask but I have very expensive carpets. If you could just put your shoes in the niche’ behind the door…”