RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Crime Does Pay

MIAMI, FLORIDA

The Santiago concluded her maiden voyage at the Port of Miami late on a Friday afternoon. Many of the guests were in high spirits and couldn't wait to find a hotel and get ready for the nightclubs to open. A pair of Brazilian models took a few last photos of the amazing deck before leaving the ship.

Ramos watched the pair from his private balcony. He took a sip of congac and turned to the woman tanning on a chair near the radio. "Enjoying yourself?"

Vivian Jaspers lowered her sunglasses and took a good look at her employer. "I can get use to this." She adjusted her red bikini -- a gift to herself while they were in St. John. "I always had to sit behind a desk while I worked on your accounting. I like this new promotion. I wish all offices were sunny balconys."

"You could stay in Miami a little longer. We have plenty of rooms here."

Vivian shook her head. "I want to head out on this assignment as soon as possible. George is picking me up tomorrow."

Ramos blinked and realized he hadn't updated Vivian as often as he should have. Well, she is rather distracting in the bikini. "George is...no longer in my employment."

"So...he's dead, right? That usually means someone's dead."

Ramos frowned. "Vivian, I really wish to shelter you from the more unpleasent parts of this lifestyle."

"Yes, well, I don't like being sheltered from things that mess up my agenda." She sighed in resignation. "Might as well make the most of it. I've never been to a party on the South Beach before. I guess I'll have to find something to wear."

Ramos laughed. "Just put a sheer skirt on. You'll fit in nicely."

Vivian stepped into her suite at the penthouse. She still had over two hours before sundown. Wearing only a thin sundress over her bathing suit, she punched in a few numbers to the receptionist. "This is Miss Jaspers...when Lucy's girl is done with her makeup and hair, can you send her to my room? Thanks. Yes, the Caribbean was wonderful. I left you a few things on your desk. Thanks for taking my calls while I was out."

Vivian undressed and walked into the shower. After a week on the boat's small bathroom, it was nice to feel real tile under her feet. The shower had about eighteen nozzles, and it felt good to have all the sand washed away.

It had been only two months since the trip to Japan, and only a little longer since her employer let her in on his illegal schemes. Ramos had been royally pissed at Vivian for tampering with his casino earnings -- until he realized her tampering resulted in an eight percent gain. Vivian had a knack for numbers, and she was making Ramos more money than when she was just an accountant.

Ramos saw two things in Vivian that he rarely saw in a single employee -- brains and loyalty. Vivian was smart -- she studied at Oxford and had friends at Harvard and Yale. And she showed no trace of wanting to leave this lifestyle anytime soon. In Japan, Ramos deliberately showed her the highlights of his choice in company. She was showered with gifts -- silk kimonos, pretty dresses, fine jewelry -- and enough praise to expand her already inflated ego.

And yet, the death of George bothered her. He had been her private driver for the last few months. It wasn't just the fact that he crack jokes and didn't poke fun of her accent. George had a way of sensing when Vivian was in over her head. Once he even pulled her out of a hotel lobby before a fight erupted.

"What were they fighting over?"

"If you should be allowed in the room or not. Ramos wants you there, of course, but the Yakuza boys aren't too fond of women."

Despite her many talents, Vivian lacked an understanding of the criminal world she was now in. George had been a source of common sense. And now his body was probably in a burning car somewhere.

I suppose someone else will have to teach me the ropes of this business. Vivian wondered who the new driver would be. Ramos had dozens in his employement, but they were scattered in various countries.

Vivian stepped out of the shower and put a robe on. She could hear the stylist in the other room, clearly excited about something. "Good evening, Rosemary. What's going on?"

Rosemary pointed to the new dress on the bed. "This is for you, senorita."

It was an evening gown for Saks Fifth Avenue. A silk halter with a deep V-neck. Vivian held it up to the mirror. Even as a banker's daughter, she never got tired of the feel of silk. "I suppose Ramos wants me to look my best tonight."

"The dress isn't from Ramos, it's from your lawyer friend."

"Nicholas?" Vivian smiled. "Did he say how he wanted my hair done?"

Rosemary held up some pins and grinned. "Updo, with a little sparkle and lots of curls."

"Well, we better give him what he wants, shouldn't we?" She looked down as Rosemary's supplies. "How many of those diamond pins can we put in my hair before it's too heavy to carry?"

Nicholas Lancer took a whiff of the wine before indulging. Good, I'm not in the mood for anything real fruity. Ramos had filled the penthouse poolside with dozens of foreign models and American businessmen. Lancer looked around for his host. Ramos was near the pool, eating a shrimp. Lucy, his mistress, touched his arm with only her fingertips. Ramos hated clingy women, and Lucy had a natural understanding of how much attention to give him. Lancer watched him whisper a joke in her ear. Instead of a ditzy giggle, she half-covered her mouth as she smiled.

Lancer approached his client. Or was he the client? Lancer couldn't tell anymore. Lucy noticed, and greeted him. "Good evening Mr. Lancer," she said in a low Hungerian accent.

"Evening." He turned to Ramos. "I trust you enjoyed your cruise?"

Lancer had worked with Ramos long enough to develop a small-talk code whenever a particular crowd was around. Lucy was safe enough company, but Lancer hadn't checked the guest list. "Everything went smooth as silk. You have a good choice in shops."

This meant that Ramos had reached Lancer's contacts in Brazil and the Virgin Islands. Lancer was a well-respected attorney in Miami, but his main business came from organizing contacts with Ramos. Working at a law firm meant driving a Jag. Working with Ramos meant driving a Lotus.

"Where's Vivian?"

"Still getting ready, I imagine. She'll be down when she's ready."

Lancer, excited for any news of the Texan accountant, walked back inside to get another drink. Ramos looked at Lucy. "She didn't mention his name at all during the cruise. How many times did he call?"

"During normal business hours or after?" Lucy rolled her eyes. "He's almost as exciting as paint drying. Are all American women this stupid with men?" Ramos chuckled. "I am serious, Ramos darling. Vivian isn't as pretty as me, but nines are almost as good as tens. And she's smart."

Ramos pointed to Vivian opening the French doors and stepping outside. The halter worked its magic perfectly -- the only skin it showed was the clevage every man was eyeing. She walked in her sharp heels with ease. Lancer was next to her in an instant. He was trying to keep the other men off of her. That was when Lucy realized Vivian was at least four inches taller than him without the shoes. He motioned he had something for her, and pulled a pair of earings from his suit. She allowed him to put the earings on her -- just to get him close enough to touch her hair and face, but not close enough to kiss her. She smiled, and then turned to the waiter to ask for a drink. Lancer looked pissed to see her talking to another man.

Lucy let out a long whistle. "I take it back. Nine and a half." She accepted another drink from Ramos. "So American women will sleep with stupid men to get attention?"

"As opposed to European women who sleep with rich men to get presents." Lucy narrowed her eyes. "You and Vivian are closer than you think. You're both dedicated to your work -- and both of you work for me, though in different ways. And you both are lackadaisical towards everything else. Vivian doesn't care who she's with, so long as she's being worshipped. And you'll skip a photo shoot to race yachts."

"Did you hear I won while you were gone? I used your boat!"

"Yes, and I'm very proud you paid the mechanics to damage last year's winning boat. I might have a job for you one day." He kissed her on the check. "Now, be a dear and try to get some people in the pool. I need to talk to Vivian."

Lancer saw Ramos walking towards him. He turned back towards Vivian and made a pathetic attempt to smile. "Looks like Ramos needs me to --"

"Nick?" Lancer hated to be called Nick. "Will you do me a favor? Go downstairs and see if the chauffeur needs any help. I need a word with Vivian."

"But we're on the top floor --"

One look from Ramos was enough to send Lancer running downstairs to aid the driver. Vivian took another look at the drink he brought her, and handed the nearly-full glass to the nearest waiter. "Whiskey, please?"

"I didn't know you got a new puppy," said Ramos.

Vivian got the joke. "He's cute but stupid. And his taste in diamonds isn't so bad either." She pulled a strand of hair back and showed him the earring. It was a platinum stud with a diamond in the center. Worth at least a few thousand. "You could buy a dozen of those yourself, with what I pay you."

Vivian just grinned. "But jewelry is so much better when someone else buys it for you." She stopped the flirty belle routine instantly. "Have you picked a new driver for me? I want to leave tomorrow."

"I made a few calls and got someone here for you. He just has an errand to run for me tonight and he can take you tomorrow morning." Ramos thought about it for a moment. "Seth is a little...rough. I don't use him for delicate stuff like this."

"Any advice then?"

Ramos shrugged. "He's a man. Just bully him like you bully Nicholas and Jordan and Harris and Devon and you'll be fine."

The penthouse was on the twenty-seventh floor. When Lancer finally got to the bottom and walked towards the curved pick-up point, there was still no driver.

"Hey -- uumph! Some help here, Nicholas!"

Lancer turned around. He recognized Harris and helped him dislodge a suitcase that was stuck in the door. Harris eyed the lawyer and motioned to the penthouse. "Shouldn't you be upstairs getting wasted?" It was plain to see he was jealous.

"Ramos sent me down here." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I think he just wanted to get rid of me for a while."

"So he sent you to me," said Harris as he checked the zippers. Harris and Lancer both worked for Ramos, but there was nothing legitimate about anything Harris did.

"Yeah he told me to see if the driver needed any help."

Harris was not amused. Sometimes he wondered if Ramos knew sending an idiot like Lancer would just give him more work to do. "The driver needs help reading time. He's two minutes late."

"Heh. 'Help with reading time'. That's funny. So, what, are you getting rid of a body for Ramos?" Lancer laughed at his own joke. Except Harris was not laughing. "Oh...shit...oh shitshitshitshitshit..."

"Will you shut up and see if anyone's looking at us weird?" Harris squinted and saw headlights approach. "Good. He's here."

A black BMW drove into the driveway. A tall man with short jet-black hair stepped out of the driver's side. "Evening Harris. Who's the fairy?"

"Nicholas Lancer. I'm an attorney for Ramos."

The tall man looked confused. "Nope, I'm pretty sure you're a fairy. Aren't most lawyers?"

Harris rolled his eyes. "Cut the shit, Seth. He doesn't get your sense of humor." He motioned to the bag. "Can you get it in the trunk? I'm getting really tired of hauling it around."

Seth opened the trunk. He lifted the bag with one hand and place it in the back without any hint of difficultly. Even Lancer could tell Harris was annoyed. "So," said Seth, "anyone I knew?"

Harris grinned. "Yeah, actually. George."

Seth actually looked surprised. "Well, I'm sure the bastard deserved it." He closed the trunk. "It's the short drive to the boat. Any special orders?"

"One," said Harris. "Ramos needs you for something else. Come upstairs when you're done."

"Wait a minute. You're making me stay in this town longer than I want to?" He pounded a fist into the car. "Come on, Harris, I fucking hate Miami."

"How can you fucking hate Miami? There are girls in bikinis everywhere."

"Everyone drives slow."

Harris waved his hand. "Ramos has a job for you. He said you can use whatever car you like, and you'll be out of the state as soon as you're able. Come upstairs and talk to him." Harris pretended to act sympathetic, but it came out fake. "And please don't Ramos angry. You weight at least twenty pounds more than George, and I don't feel like packing another body tonight."