Part 38 

I knew of Alexa through our mutual friend Marta Lorenzo, they had gone to Miami Beach High all four years. Marta always with her dinner parties trying to play match maker. 

I had chatted with Alexa in one of these gatherings. Immediately I recognized her in the pictures that Lazaro couldn't bare to see, I knew who she was. 

I might have over reacted by reaching out to her but I've been in this city for almost forty years and knowing what I knew and how lost Lazaro was, I couldn't just sit on my hands.

I asked Marta for Alexa's phone number under the guise that I wanted to get to know her.

All the while what I was doing, was putting her on notice that she had been caught tying Lazaro's wife. 

As sensationalized as the wild cocaine days of Miami, the Versace murder and our face eating cannibals might be, if you looked closely you would see the most prevalent underreported crime, so much so that no one bats an eye when it happens. Murder suicide is as old as passion itself. 

I invited Alexa to Smith and Wollensky on South Point Park for coffee but when she got there I already had Macallan melting the ice. 

Reader, in the beginning of this Pulitzer worthy quest of mine I had latched on to the likes of Mario and company but this that is happening of late is Freud couch shit. 

I now have Lazaro confiding his and his wife's and their lover's trysts to me and it has made me uncomfortable, guilty and horny. 

To be continued. 

No se hablar

Nací para tenerte, lo demás es lo demás. 

A primera vista supe que te tendría. Me desinterese de ti y tu porqué, me dediqué a ignorarte. 

Te convertí en una obsesión a la cual con delicadeza y maña haría mía. 

Desvíe mi vista y malamente escuche los cuentos que contabas.  

A mi solo me importaba la saliva de tu boca y el rozar de tu labios con los secos míos. 

Entable un tema contigo sin propósito más que seducirte violentamente. 

Sin que te dieras cuenta te ahorcaría en el abrazo de mis brazos hundiéndote en mí.  

Me puse para ti muchacha, y tu te dedicaste a jugar el juego que se pierde a propósito. 

Si no te lo e dicho todo es porque no se hablar.... 

Cessna

Part 37 

She had no clue, why would she suspect that destiny had the death card under her sleeve and would play it. She after all felt entitled to happiness. 

Newlyweds shouldn't part from each other for extended periods of time. Fresh happiness is at times devoured by the thirst of others. 

He had logged many hours, but he hadn't flown solo this far. 

This nondescript dirt road in El Departamento de Nariño, en la Selva Colombiana, that doubled as cocaine runway was far as hell from the arms of his freshly minted bride. 

He was excited to prove his wings, after all he was now head of the household. 

Silver with red and blue pinstripes, twin prop Cessna 421, it got as much local coverage as the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa. 

It's was on the news from Halloween to the New Year's, but to no avail the airplane and its novice captain vanished. 

In Amelia Earhart's backyard he reincarnated in local folklore. 

"The kid with wings and the silver bullet never to be seen again."

How could destiny rob her of him. Was she destined to be alone. 

These sad stories she told me in an attempt to justify her rope tricks.

I'm not buying her agony, maybe she was into girls from day one and on day two she decided that they where prettier tied up. 

To be continued. 

Chalet

I'll put myself up in a chalet, in a foreign land, where my tongue will be a foreign tongue. 

I'll lock myself up with a great vintage and produce a great novel. 

I'll be kept by my desire and she will be my muse. 

I won't see the sun nor the moon, only the light from her eyes and the fire from her loins. 

I'll fill my novel with words that will render every bite into legible desire. 

I'll close my eyes and trace her body with my writing hand so I can write her curves into my pages. 

I'll love her and the pages will show.