CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
2009 - Keeping The Blood Flowing
Friday was our Mundo-mandated “day of beauty.”
First up was line-ups followed by hot towel and straight razor shaves at an old school barbershop located just outside of the tourist area. They hooked me up- I usually had to go to the DR to get a cut this finessed.
Afterwards, we grabbed some food at Chez Le Bebe. I can’t lie- even back then, Miami had better Haitian food than BK. Mundo got kabrit with diri blan and I ordered the tassot bef with diri djon djon and a cold bottle of Prestige. We wound up splitting our meals.
“Let’s head back to the hotel,” Mundo said the second we finished eating. “I have a 4pm manicure/pedicure appointment at the spa. I made one for you, too.”
“Why?”
“Yo, I’m wearing sandals tonight and I refuse to have busted feet,” Doe replied.
He looked over at my left hand- it was holding the last sips of the Prestige.
“Yeah,” he decided, “your ass is coming with me to the spa.”
When we got back to the Delano, we did the spa thing then went our separate ways, agreeing to meet downstairs at 8pm for one quick cocktail before heading out.
This drinks thing that Doe was dragging me to was starting at 8:30pm, and I was determined to get there no later than 9. I had no idea who these people were, how Olmando knew them or what they meant to him, so my secret plan was to get him there relatively on time and convince him to bounce by 10:30 if they were boring.
Once in my room, I did some research and found an upscale-ish lounge in North MIami that should fit the bill. But since I was committed to going with the flow this weekend, I’d only pull it out if I absolutely had to get away from Doe’s people’s scene.
I caught a quick nap, got ready to go out and still got to the hotel bar right on time. Mundo was only ten minutes late. I slid a Hemingway daquiri in front of him and told him to drink the fuck up.
Doe had hired a driver to take us around for the night- an unnecessary expense in my opinion, but it did help keep things moving.
“That’s our ride over there,” he said, pointing to a gigantic black Escalade.
“Ann ale,” I fired back and walked towards the truck.
