Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All names of characters are fictional and were made up. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.
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Miami Beach, Florida
An overcast of clouds blocked the rays of sunlight across a sky that was blue only hours prior. Wind rustled through palm trees in the distance as the usual number of people walked the paved blocks of sidewalk. Their voices were muted for one woman with a pair of wireless earbuds nestled in her ears. Her black hair was pinned in a high ponytail to reveal a small tattoo on the back of her neck for anyone to possibly see from behind her. A black shirt went with a matching leather jacket. Every curve of the woman's muscular legs was visible thanks to a pair of stonewashed blue jeans. High-heel pumps were the final piece to make up this casual outfit. Vida Guerra found herself strutting her hips out in South Beach as if she did not have a care in the world.
In her ears, she could hear a synthesized flute playing the intro to an old song. Her iPhone was shoved into her right pocket. The zipper of her leather jacket was undone as she clutched her black leather Gucci purse tucked under her right shoulder. She wore sunglasses earlier in the day when she first set out for lunch. Horns and guitars entered the musical mix, filling her ears. A smile ran across her pink lips as she noticed some of the pedestrians looking in her direction. One man gave a nod to her. A friendly look from a stranger was enough to make her smile in return. She doubted he recognized her as a famous model, but that did not matter to Vida. The voice of Peter Gabriel greeted her through the earbuds as the song intro moved into the first verse of his old hit 'Sledgehammer'.
"You could have a stream train... If you'd just lay down your tracks.
You could have an aeroplane flying... If you bring your blue sky back.
All you do is call me. I'll be anything you need."
The trumpets played the familiar riffs as the song shifted into the next verse. Vida continued to strut her hips, walking in sync with the beat of the song. She was in a good mood today after going out for lunch by herself. Nothing could bother her on this fine day as she took the long journey back to her condo. A long walk made up for not going to the gym last week. Now that she was stuck in Miami, she had to find other things to do outside of the career activities of what little was left of her modeling career. A month had passed since that unforgettable night she shared with one particular vice squad detective she had a history with. Detective Miguel Martinez had put mortal fear into her heart with his warning for her not to leave town. She knew he was more than capable of keeping tabs on someone like her and watching her every move.
That incident was a life-changing event for her. Miguel had not contacted her since leaving her naked and stranded in South Beach sands, but that did not mean he was not out there watching. As the days progressed, Vida could feel his presence whenever she was out and about. Anytime she saw a white sports car, she had to do a doubletake to make sure it was not his F8 Tributo. There were times she thought she saw the car in traffic, only to be mistaken for a different one. It was as if her mind was playing tricks on her through a game of endless paranoia. After a week of isolating herself behind the locked door of her condo apartment, Vida made the decision to fight back. The fear of that man was not going to take over her life. Her first decision was to buy cheap, disposable cellphones to use as burners. She used one to call a friend in town she knew had spare weapons. She paid him in cash for a personal handgun and enough rounds to fill two clips.
"I wanna be your sledgehammer! Why don't you call my name?
Ah, you'd better call the sledgehammer! Put your mind at rest."
The song had ended several minutes ago by the time she stepped through the front doors of the condo. The air-conditioned lobby was a welcome relief for anyone who had spent more than an hour outside in the afternoon heat. Her heels clicked and clacked loudly across the marble floor as she marched to an open elevator. Once inside, she pressed the button for her proper floor. When the doors shut, she finally decided to take out the wireless earbuds. She had listened to more than enough music to last the rest of the day. Vida always liked to be focused and prepared for anything unexpected when venturing back to her apartment. She shoved the earbuds into her purse before the elevator doors opened. The hall was empty. Sunlight glared out of an uncovered window down the hall, illuminating the faded white wallpaper.
Carpet flooring muted the sound of her heels into subtle bumps. Vida took her time walking to her room. All the doors were white, with a small peephole directly above the decorative gold-plated numbers. As she stopped at the door, she brushed her right hand over her hip. No one could see the concealed holster for her Glock handgun underneath her black leather jacket. That was the only reason she went out in public with a jacket. Her eyes shifted to the left side of the hallway, then gazing down the opposite side as her left hand fiddled with the keyring from her pocket. She kept her right hand resting on the gun, prepared to pull it out of the holster if necessary, while her other hand shoved the key into the door and turned the lock. So far, so good; there was no one there but her. When the door unlocked, she turned the knob and entered her apartment.
Her heels boomed loudly across the wooden floor. The first thing she always did was shut the door behind her and flick the light switch. She turned around and locked the door, as had become routine at this point. Her home was undisturbed, with no unwanted guests. Vida pulled the gun out of the holster as she began to step into the living room. A white rug sat under a wooden refectory table, facing a gray couch. A few magazines and an empty bottle of water sat on the glass surface of that table. Vida carefully placed her gun and purse onto the table with a subtle clank sound. She was now free to take off her jacket and sling it onto the empty couch. It was time to venture into her bedroom now and unwind in the silence of her home. Now that she was home, Vida was able to relax and not think about the undercover psycho cop out in the city.
During this month of isolation, she had become lonely. The only contact Vida had with anyone she knew was her friend, whom she bought her gun from. She did not tell him why she suddenly needed a firearm for protection. As the days passed by, she felt as if she were stuck in a small world all by herself. In the past, when she was in rough spots like this, she could turn to Steven. Everything felt wrong with how he had disappeared and seemingly vanished in thin air. Even if he was out there somewhere, Vida had to worry about Miguel going after him. One of the reasons she felt cornered was how the detective was using her as a wedge between not only Steven but Tony as well. It did not matter that his superiors closed the case. Vida knew what kind of man Miguel was. He was bound and determined to take down Steven or perhaps Tony.
She wondered what would happen if Steven suddenly showed up out of the blue back in town. Vida figured that would be enough for Miguel to reveal himself. He was out there somewhere, lurking in the shadows and keeping her under surveillance. She was sure of this, despite the paranoia within her mind. One of her greatest regrets was planting the wiretap bugs on Tony's yacht. Nothing had come out of it, but it was still something she had to think about when she was awake every other sleepless night. Vida was unsure how she could even confess her crimes to Tony or Steven. How could she look at them and admit to what she had done? So many regrets left her with feelings of resentment. If only she could right the wrongs and make up for those mistakes. Steven had to be out there somewhere. If he ever did come back, there was so much she wanted to tell him about.
There was no use in going after the past. So many what-ifs. So many could've, would've, and should'ves to make up a lifetime of regrets. Wherever Steven had gone, Vida knew there had to be other reasons besides killing Carlos. If he did show up in town, she felt it was up to her to find him before Miguel. The only way she could redeem her past mistakes would be to prevent this glory-chasing cop from having his moment of fame. If Tony and Antonio did not know where he was, then Vida had no idea where to look. He could have left Florida for all they knew and disappeared with someone else. As she lay on the bed, gazing up at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan, Vida began to think about the other Diaz men. Tony seemed happily reunited with Jennifer Lopez. Then there was his son Antonio, working as a club manager like his father wanted. Their futures were at stake with someone like Miguel out to get them.
The longer she thought about them, Vida began to reminisce about the good times. She gleefully remembered the day she seduced Antonio. A devious smile ran across her lips, as she could still vividly recall the details of that day. Antonio was so easy to have wrapped around her finger. The young man had proven himself to be skilled at eating pussy. The mere thought of that day was enough to make her wet. He was the first and only man she had taken up to her condo home. He watched her swim at the private pool before she seduced him and enjoyed a day of hard fucking under the sun. Antonio looked so surprised when she visited the club searching for Steven last month. Perhaps it was time to dig her fingers into that young man again and see if he was still capable of serving her. She could not bring him back to this apartment. If anything, she would have to convince him to take her back to whatever place he called home. There was more than enough time for her to figure out a plan before nightfall.
