Los Carnales

Chapter 42: Revenge Served Hot

January 5th, 2008
Saturday, 1:20pm - Kendall, Miami

"Lola, I already told you why I can't come home. Just wait for me. Watch over the girls and make sure no one is mistreating them in any way. And when Sugar comes by tomorrow, there's ten grand waiting for her to cover this month's protection. Show her around first before you give her the money."

"Can we really trust her?"

"We can't trust nobody but Sugar is not our enemy. She's going to drop by every now and then to do business. And when you're gone for your session in Orlando tomorrow, she'll send somebody to take over and handle everything you usually do. Just telling you now so there aren't any surprises for anyone."

Lola sighed. "Bueno. Candy...I miss you. Let me come visit you. Allow me to take care of you."

"I miss you too but I don't need anybody taking care of me. I'm doing my thing, don't worry about me," Candy scooped a small amount of cocaine onto her tiny silver spoon then snorted it away from the phone. She sniffled, getting all the substance in as she pinched her nose and tossed her head back against the headrest. Candy closed her eyes and moaned with delight, the desired effects hitting her instantly. She put the phone back to her ear and said, "Take a ride with Kells and find me some muscle. What I need most right now is a lot of muscle and loyalty."

"And where do you suggest I bring them, muñeca?"

"Estoy comprando una casa nueva para quedarme permanentemente. Hay una villa española en la costa de la isla Hibiscus de la que he estado escuchando. Acaba de salir al mercado por once millones de dólares," said Candy. She snorted again to swallow the cocaine dripping down the back of her throat, then reached for water to wash out what she could of the taste. "Qué piensas?" (I am buying a new house to stay in permanently. There is a Spanish villa on the coast of Hibiscus Island that I've been hearing about. It just went on the market for eleven million dollars. What do you think?)

"Qué le pasa a nuestro condominio?" (What's wrong with our condo?)

"No es lo suficientemente grande y ya no es seguro para mí quedarme allí. For you, too. My family has yet to discover the property but I don't wanna wait around for when they do and they take YOU out. I suggest you don't stay in the apartment too often." (It's not big enough and it's no longer safe for me to stay there.)

"Vale. Y veré lo que puedo hacer. There's five million saved up, I'll come up with the difference after we finished selling the product and paying the Colombians what we owe them." (Okay. And I'll see what I can do.)

"Gracias, baby," Candy purred with a grin. "Hablar con usted ahorita. Bye-bye." (Talk to you in a little while.)

Candy hung up and rewarded herself with another bump of coke. How else was she going to feel confident, secure, focused and alive these days? She couldn't do it on her own, that's for damn sure. And it wasn't like she could go to a therapist for help or even a priest anymore. Man, fuck those good-for-nothing priests. Not getting high off of your own supply was the golden rule everyone in the drug business had to follow; Candy bent the rule to her liking and assured herself it'd be fine as long as she paid for it and didn't overdo it.

She put the yellow pouch back in her Louis Vuitton bag, kissed her rosary for a blessing, then stepped out of her '05 Ford Mustang, exposing herself to a sun so hot, she could fry bacon on the concrete. Candy jogged across the wide street in her white pumps, pressing down over her royal purple skirt as the wind tried to flash what was beneath it. Hiking up the long rocky soiled path surrounded by exotic trees that complimented the lush tropical landscape, Candy fretted with her appearance and kept fixing her hair, sweeping back her bouncy curls to a presentable state before she reached the brown door and raised a balled fist, knocking four times.