Second Chance (2 page)

My friend Tay works as an admin in the DA’s office and was able to swing some last-minute time off. She seemed a little stressed at the moment, but I knew she’d be a barrel of laughs once she got her feet back on the ground. We had rented a convertible, booked a room at a hoity-toity South Beach hotel, and planned a long list of fun activities. For the moment, though, I was bored to tears. I wasn’t sleepy and my iPad was in the overhead bin. I glanced at the sleeping panda and thought it better not to disturb her, lest I risk an impromptu overture from her back-door orchestra’s brass section. So I did the next best thing, I tried my hand at some people watching.

The couple across the aisle seemed like a strange pair. Matching wedding bands made it clear that they were together. She was drop-dead gorgeous, and he looked like Charles Manson. Okay, looks aren’t everything, but it didn’t seem like they belonged together—I mean he was downright mangy. Perhaps she was asking herself the same question, because she kept ogling a guy sitting a few aisles in front of me. Cool, right? It was like six degrees of separation—I was watching her and she was watching him. Okay, I know that was only two degrees of separation—don’t get all literal on me. I tried sneaking a peek at him, but all I could see was the back of his head. I craned my neck in every conceivable angle, hoping for a better look, but it didn’t help. He did have nice hair though, brown and wavy—the kind I’d like to run my fingers through. Sometimes you see a man and you wonder if he could be
the one
, the one you were fated to be with. Is that fair? In the entire world is there only one person for each us to be with? What if
the one
for me lived among a tribe of primitive villagers and didn’t have a cell phone. I mean is it right that I be denied my soul mate because he doesn’t have 4G? As a single woman, I think we ought to take a second look at that policy.

Tay’s talons suddenly gripped my wrist again. She grabbed me so hard it felt like a falcon strike. Her intoxicants had worn off rather abruptly, and she seemed none too happy with the fact that we were cruising aloft at thirty thousand feet in the air.

“Dear Lord. When are we going to land?” Tay’s eyes were large with fear. “Is this thing equipped with air bags?”

Tay’s a big, curvy girl with booty and boobies to spare. She actually has it
going on
when she isn’t consumed with the idea of crashing in a huge fireball. Some might say that she’s heavy, but there is a certain kind of man who is drawn to a full-bodied sista like her … let’s just say
her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
. “No, no airbags,
Ms. Thang
. Besides, you appear to be traveling with your own personal pair of flotation devices.”

“Stephanie, I’m scared.”

“Distract yourself. Close your eyes and think about how the men are going to react when you hit the beach in your stunning two-piece.”

She seemed to brighten at the thought. “The boys always did like Tay-Tay’s tatas.” She lifted her breasts and smiled. “Wait until they get a load of these.”

Chapter Three

“This is the best!”
I shouted as we cruised down the expressway in our Mustang convertible. It was eighty degrees, and the sun was bright. We had the top down and the wind in our hair. The neurotic
we’re going to crash
Tay had disappeared, thank God. Now, behind a pair of fashionable shades, she was a new woman: relaxed, happy, and looking forward to wine, lots of men, and song. Aside from the fingernail gouges I feared would scar me for life, there was no trace of the crazy lady who sat next to me on the plane ride down from New York.

We were on the MacArthur Causeway racing across Biscayne Bay on our way to South Beach, Miami, and were surrounded on both sides by emerald-green water. The causeway seemed to wind on forever. It reminded me of the yellow brick road leading to the Land of Oz. (Okay, that was the last reference to the 1939 film classic. I swear.)

“I’m loving this,” Tay said. “You know, I’ve never been down here before. What’s wrong with me? Life is just passing me by. All I do is work, work, work. I could drop dead any second, like cousin Llysha.”

“The one who died on the crapper?”

Tay nodded. “Yup, here one moment and gone the next.”

Gee, spiking heroin … who would’ve thunk it?
I guess when you think about it we’re all just one quick toilet flush away from the hereafter. “Really, you’ve never been to Florida?”

“Oh, I’ve been to Florida, just no place that’s any fun. My aunt has a home up north in Deltona.”

“Deltona? Don’t you mean Daytona?”

“Daytona my ass,”
she said in ghetto-girl speak. “No, I mean Deltona, the most boring, stankiest place on the face of the earth. You know what they got in Deltona? Palmetto bugs.”

“Those are like—”

“Giant flying cockroaches.”

“Oh, that’s gross.”

“They’re as fast as cheetahs. I had one fly straight at my nose one time—came at me like a forty-five-caliber bullet.”

This is the first time I’ve traveled with Tay. I suppose you don’t really know a person until you’re trapped with them on vacation with no possible means to escape. A long and tedious evening is one thing, but an entire week? I do hope she stops talking about the icky flying bugs. “Tay darlin’, let’s make a pact. No more talk about bugs, or mucus.”

“Mucus? Who said anything about mucus? I didn’t say anything about mucus. I didn’t say the bug went up my nose, and I had to blow it out. I was just
splaining
to you
about Deltona.”

I had to set some boundaries before it was too late. “Picture this: you’re having a nice day. You bump into an old friend and ask how she’s feeling, and she starts ranting and raving about how she has terrible nasal congestion and can’t breathe because her nose is stuffed with gobs of snot. How would you feel about spending an extended period of time with that individual?”

Tay pouted playfully. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring up the Kamikaze water bugs anymore.”

“Or mucus.”

“Or mucus. Not that I ever brought it up in the first place.”

“And now you won’t. See how that works?”

“I also have cousins in Hallandale, but I won’t go visit them on account of their bad teeth.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, no pun intended. Despite my concern that she was once again treading dangerously close to unsophisticated and vulgar territory, I asked reluctantly, “Bad teeth?”

“They visited us in New York once. In my entire life I have never seen an entire family with such god-awful, gnarled teeth—breath bad enough to choke a wombat. They must not have one single dentist in the entire city. Hallandale my ass. They should have named it
Halitosisdale
.”

Okay, I guess she hasn’t really caught on yet. I mean halitosis is barely a hop, skip, and a jump away from mucus.
It appears my traveling companion is a little slow on the uptake.

“Let’s talk about men,” Tay said excitedly. She lowered her sunglasses and showed me her big eyes.

“Yes, let’s. I was trying to scope out this hunk on the plane, but I couldn’t get a good look at him. You see any possibles on the way down?”

“Sorry, friend, I was too bent out of shape about becoming an air-travel fatality to conduct a thorough sausage patrol.”

Wow, and to think I was uncomfortable mentioning mucus.
I laughed so hard that I lost control of the car momentarily and swerved out of the lane. “Did you just say
sausage patrol
?”

“Sausage patrol, junk hunt—it’s all the same. What do you call it?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed contritely. “
Checking guys out,
I guess.”

“Man, that is
lame
. There are definitely advantages to growing up in the hood. Talking about men is supposed to be a turn-on; that’s why there are words like booty and junk. I don’t exactly get hot and bothered when you say, ‘checking guys out.’ Come on, Stephanie, say something nasty like
I saw a brother I’d like to ride like a Brahma bull
. Say it, Stephanie. Say it,” she pleaded. “No more lame white-girl talk.”

“But all I saw was the back of his head.”

“Come on, use your imagination.”

I had to think for a moment. “I’d like to shampoo that man’s head and then give it a good cream rinse.”

Tay shuddered. “Honey, you just gave me goose bumps.”

“You think I’m some kind of amateur?”

“So what about this fella on the plane?”

“I told you, I never really got a good look at him. I wanted to catch up with him as we got off the plane, but there was this heavy woman blocking my way to the aisle.”

“Oh, you mean the big farting woman with the panda eyes?”

You see? It wasn’t just me—Tay saw the panda likeness too.

“Tay, you’re unbelievable,” I continued. “You missed the hunk but got the 411 on Ms. Flatulence?”

“Baby doll, I don’t have to be conscious to read smoke signals. That girl was blowing more wind than a twister through Kansas.” (The Wizard of Oz reference was Tay’s. I can’t take responsibility for that one, folks). “So what about this mystery man?”

“I don’t know. I saw this other woman scoping him out and it intrigued me, but I was directly behind him and all I saw was the back of his head.”

“Oh, this is sad. Why didn’t you just pass him a note like in study hall? Stephanie, are you fifteen years old or something? Why didn’t you just climb over the seat and into his lap?” Tay slapped me on the leg. “Don’t you worry, my sista. Tay-Tay will show you how it’s done. You might not be as bootylicious as I am, but you got some
mighty
fine, man-attracting, girly-girl parts
. You just got to shake off some of the rust.”

“Gee thanks.” I’ve never had a problem getting a date, but in the last year … well, my father died so I wasn’t exactly putting myself out there. There was just one relationship in the past year, and it ended badly. Did I say badly? Tragic was more like it. “Oh, and I suppose
you’ve
got it going on? I thought you were saving yourself for Denzel.” Tay lives and breathes for Denzel Washington—worships the ground he walks on. I think she’s got his name tattooed on her shoulder, or maybe it’s just a really funky birthmark. I never really got a good look at it.

Tay made a naughty-girl expression. “I may be saving a slice of this divine confection for Mr. Washington, but this girl’s been serving cake for years,” she boasted. “So you let this hunk of man slip through your fingers? Damn, I would’ve kicked the panda out the way.”

I made a sad face.

“Don’t you worry, with all the men in Miami I’m sure we’ll find someone for you to play with,” she said reassuringly.

I suddenly became aware of the buffeting of helicopter blades. The noise grew louder and louder. The convertible was a blast to drive, but the noise those two choppers made as they shot past at low altitude was unbearably loud. They were police choppers, and they were headed directly for Miami Beach. “Wonder what that’s about?”

Tay waved her finger, reprimanding me. “Uh-uh-uh, Ms. Lady Detective, no police work while we’re on this here vacay. The only thing you’ll be investigating is romance. Do I make myself clear?”

“That’s affirmative, oh lady goddess.” But as we approached the Perry Hotel, I saw Miami Police vehicles parked in front of it. I tried to remind myself that I was on vacation, but as they say, “once a cop always a cop,” and I just knew I wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone.

Chapter Four

We were checked in and eager for the vacation fun to start, but our room wasn’t ready.
Tay waved to me and set off in search of the perfect mojito, a legendary concoction as intoxicating as it is potent. I didn’t know if she’d find it at our hotel, but I was certain her search would be extensive. In any case I was glad that she wasn’t the clingy type. Even BFFs need a little time alone to decompress and enjoy a world free of palmetto bugs, mucus, and mangled teeth.

I had checked before booking to make sure our hotel had an adequate safe. I wasn’t talking about the individual room safes that you can use to stash your laptop, the ones that can be pried free with a crowbar and carried out in a suitcase. I was referring to a heavy-duty central safe that hotels provide and secure, tons of metal enclosed within foot-thick concrete walls—an absolute necessity in a place like Miami, where drugs and laundered money are as prevalent as relish at a hotdog stand. All cops feel naked without their guns, but let’s face it, this was a beach vacation, and I was going to be sparsely dressed at times (as often as possible if I was lucky). I could deal with my weapon residing in the lobby safe, but thirteen hundred miles away in New York? Out of the friggin’ question. Just the thought of my gun being so inaccessible gave me separation anxiety.

I had an unobstructed view of the beach from the hotel atrium as I filled out paperwork for the hotel safe. The police choppers had just departed, but Miami Metro and US Coast Guard ships were still out in the water. It looked as if they had a fishing vessel in custody. It was a trawler, the kind that drags a huge net and scoops up everything in its path.

The staff member assisting me wore a nametag. “Flynn, what a great name.” I leaned on thatched fingers and batted my eyelashes. Flynn’s reaction was tantamount to a yawn. There was either some doubt as to his sexuality or he had been a member of the Queen’s Guard at Buckingham Palace in a former life—I mean the guy was absolutely stoic.

I gave him a goofy smile. It took a moment, but then he finally cracked, smiling ear to ear—we were now homies. I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I’m a little distracted today. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“So what’s going on out there, Flynn?”

He followed my gaze and scanned the ocean. “Sorry, but I have absolutely no idea.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s Miami. Stuff like this goes on everyday, gives the town that dangerous allure that keeps places like this packed with adventure-seeking tourists.” He did the jazz hands gesture to connote glitz and excitement.