CHAPTER 1
Voices whispered in the dark. Muffled sounds floated around me. Silky warmth touched my skin. All these registered lightly on my flickering consciousness. Little by little, I came awake.
I did not struggle or call out. I allowed myself to surface little by little. Tentatively, I opened my eyes. My sight was clouded. Hazy silhouettes moved around me. I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear my sight, and the world around me came slowly into focus.
A beautiful woman’s face hovered above me, her eyes like glittering crystals. Her silvery hair fell like flowing water over her shoulders. I believed she was an angel. I wanted to reach up and touch her.
A gentle hand brushed my hair from my forehead. Someone leaned close to me. I could feel the warm breath on my cheek. A low, female voice murmured in my ear.
“Don’t force yourself. Rest a little longer. Sleep will do you good.” I allowed sleep to reclaim me.
The next time I awakened, I did so in a rush. I sat up in bed and looked around in confusion. I was in a room I’d never seen before, the only light coming from a floor lamp. Thick drapes covered the windows. The low bed, made of beautifully worked, light rattan, was big enough for four people.
In a corner of the room, there was a round, glass-topped table flanked by two cushioned wicker chairs. On the table sat a porcelain vase full of fresh, white Calla lilies. Tropical luxury seemed to be the ongoing theme.
My need to use the bathroom became urgent. I pushed aside the silk comforter to discover I was naked. I rose from the bed, stepping gingerly, feeling weak, bruised, and unsteady. The cream-colored, plush carpeting felt luscious under my feet.
Vulnerable in my nakedness, I was relieved when the first door I tried turned out to be a luxurious en-suite bathroom. It was spacious, richly appointed with wall-to-wall mirrors and a state-of-the-art, multiple-jets shower over a sunken, tiled tub. In my condition, I would probably drown in it.
I emptied my bladder and then minced my way to the shower. It took me ten minutes to figure out how to work the shower’s plumbing. My hair was full of sand, and my body ached all over.
I was shocked to find dried blood and discolored bruises surrounding puncture marks in multiple places on my body. Something bad had happened to me, but my memories were jumbled, fragmented, and I could not make sense of them.
I cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair, fighting the dull ache from the bruises on my arms. There were all kinds of toiletries for guests. Several white terrycloth robes in assorted sizes were stacked on built-in shelves. I wrapped myself in one, feeling far less vulnerable clothed.
I returned to the bedroom to find someone had visited while I was showering. There was now a wooden tray on the round table. The tray held a pot of freshly brewed coffee, a beautiful porcelain cup and saucer, and small crystal jars of sugar and cream. A small plate full of cut cheeses and slices of melon looked scrumptious. I realized I was starving.
I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat on one of the cushioned chairs to enjoy my meal. After finishing two cups of coffee and most of the cheese and fruit, I settled into my thoughts.
Closing my eyes, I reached out for the last memory I could access. Like images unfolding in an illustrated storybook, it all came back to me.
Days Earlier
Donnie examined his handiwork and nodded in approval. “The look is smashing on you. A handful of highlights up front, enough to brighten up your face. You don’t need more. The layered cut looks stunning. It brings out your large, dark eyes and sets off your elegant, long neck. Girl, I’m so jealous. I wish I had a neck like yours. Great for pictures.”
I looked in the mirror, turning my head from side to side to test the fall of the cut. “I love it, Donnie. No one does hair the way you do. You are a true artist.”
“Yes, sweetie. It’s why I get the big monaayyy,” he bragged, sashaying his tight, gay ass over to the cash register. I followed, ATM card in hand.
“Yes, it’s getting to the point I can barely afford you. Make sure I get the best-friend discount.”
“Always, my dear. Fortune is a fickle goddess, but good friends are forever. They get discounts.” He got busy with the register.
“A pity. I’m all gorgeous and have nowhere to go.”
“No plans on a Friday night? You’re kidding?” he took my card.
“I was supposed to spend the weekend at Hawks Cay down in Duck Key. This was planned months ago as part of the wedding festivities for a classmate of mine, but she caught the groom in bed with the best man. I thought such things only happened in raunchy movies. You can imagine the fallout.”
“You know what they say. Inside every straight man, there’s a gay one begging to be set free.”
“Who says?” I snapped, annoyed at the absurd quip. “Only you and your delusional buddies, I bet. There are plenty of men out there who have no intention of ever joining your misguided ranks.”
“Well, Sweetheart, I’m not the one without plans on Friday night. I have an invitation to a posh party tonight. It’s supposed to be packed with beautiful people, all the lovelies from the surrounding area. Rumor has it a couple of Victoria’s Secret Angels will be in attendance.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so jealous. You already have a gorgeous boyfriend. I’m the one who needs to meet new people. An eligible lawyer or a plastic surgeon would be nice.”
“If you want, you can come as my date. My boyfriend Dante is on a business trip up in Atlanta. You can keep me out of trouble and drag me home if I drink too much.”
“Sounds great. It’s a pity to look so good for nothing. At what time and where do we meet?”
“Here in the back parking lot at eleven. I’ll drive, and you can leave your car here. It will be safe.” He handed me my card back.
“Great! See you at eleven.”
“Wear something classy but sexy. I have an image to uphold, you know.” He flipped back his hair and strutted to his station.
******
“Having fun?” Donnie held his long-stemmed tulip glass, pinky out, and gazed around him. He knew I was impressed. My best friend got extreme pleasure from impressing his friends. Deep down, he was a snob. It was probably a natural reaction stemming from his sad background.
Donnie grew up alone in the world. He never knew his father, and his mother died when he was a child. He lived in horrid foster homes. At the age of fourteen, he took off and never looked back.
He was openly envious of friends and co-workers who had support systems, families who cared, or families who had to care. If I chose to quit a job because my boss was a jerk, I went home to my parents. There was always food on the table, free TV, and gasoline money.
If his boss was a bastard, Donnie had to grin and bear it. If his car broke down, there was no one to come rescue him. He relied on friends and acquaintances, and you could not call on those favors too often.
In the past, he had scraped, saved, bought second-hand clothes, and lived in hovels. He took boyfriends and lovers for the support and benefits they could offer. He used people, and they used him. Survival was his priority.
In between scraping and groveling, he’d put himself through cosmetology school, but doing ten-dollar cuts at the Hair Cuttery was not the future he craved. His dreams were big.
He wanted to be a hairstylist for the rich and famous. He was determined to own a world-class salon someday. Lately, he no longer scraped and bowed. He was on his way. I was so glad for him.
“Oh my God, Donnie, this is fantastic. Look at the moon hanging over the water. It’s like they arranged it especially for the party. What about the size of the chandelier? How the hell did they get it up there? And the double staircase should be in a Hollywood movie.”
“It probably was. Many of these waterside mansions have been used in movies for years. I think Scarface was filmed somewhere around here.”
I was enchanted. This was the embodiment of my dreams. This was how I wanted to live. I yearned to know how to make it happen. There was a formula, and it was not hard work. Zillions of people worked hard all their lives and didn’t live like this.
“The people, Donnie. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous men in one place.”
“Gorgeous and successful. Many of them are filthy rich. I suggest you mingle and network. Don’t be shy, you never know what you might catch.”
“Someone who owns something like this, and I would be set,” I murmured, sighing deeply and envisioning the possibilities. My attention was drawn to a small group of people standing on the opposite end of the terrace. “Who are they?”
“I don’t know. I recognize all the regulars here because I’ve rubbed shoulders with most of them at one time or another. I may be a hairstylist, albeit an expensive one, but I have a well-connected boyfriend. My Dante knows everyone who is anyone.”
“They could be wealthy South Americans,” I suggested. Miami had been flooded with wealthy Venezuelans over the last decade, all running to protect and keep their wealth. They owned whole neighborhoods in the city.
“The native element here is rather a small group. Most of these people are transient. Some come in search of opportunities and connections. Many hope to make it into the film industry or get modeling gigs.” He stopped to sip his champagne.
“Others are looking for the sun, excitement, a change, or a new start. After a while, when it all comes to nothing, they move on. This group looks European. Venezuelans would be shorter and not so glaringly white.”
“You are probably right,” I murmured, my eyes still glued to the group.
“Besides, they are too elegant,” said Donnie. “The South Florida look is casual, sun-kissed, wind-blown Nouveau Rich. Those look like people with old money.”
As if sensing they were the center of attention, the entire group turned speculative eyes on us. Donnie, recognizing the opportunity, smiled and raised his glass in salute. I also smiled, a little embarrassed to be caught gawking.
“Come, let’s move away. A stroll on the beach will be perfect. It’s not good to be thought too smitten. If they want to talk to us, they can hunt us down later.” My friend had no idea how prophetic his words would prove.