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Winner of The Sobe Times short story of the year contest of 2013.
The Flamingo Fables is a book containing seventeen short stories that will be published soon.
A Bloody Twist Of Lime
Mark glanced nervously toward his co-pilot. Bart, they had been partners for years, sat upright, with the exception of his head leaned awkwardly, his neck broken and punctured precisely. The runway of the Miami airport loomed ahead and rushed up to meet him. This was, what he imagined, the worst possible landing scenario imaginable. His instructors had never taught such a scenario. How could they?
Christina Del Rosario Boga- Sarmeinto stood just behind him gently massaging his shoulders.
“Good job Mark, you can do it, just relax.”
And do it, he did, the plane touched down perfectly, but instead of moving to the terminal it slowly came to rest out near the fence. Having all the time in the world, Christina leaned in and relished the last bloody twist of lime of her six hour flight from Lima, Peru.
Exiting the cabin, she smiled at the flight attendants and other passengers, then dropped to the runway and slipped over the fence. Christina caught the first cab she encountered.
“South Beach please?”
She’d had no clue how desert like, Miami could be, she felt parched and severely in need of refreshment.
She burped a little too loudly; her handsome Armenian cab driver peered at her from the mirror, his eyes and lips smiling.
Covering her mouth, she returned a smile meant to be coy, if not cute.
Christina had been far too indulgent on the plane, enjoying the rich international food and drinking more than was her habit. Watching the world slip by from the window, her head was a little dreamy and swimmier than she would like.
The bloody twists of lime were her inventions. It was a simple drink, lick the little seasonings from your hand, drink the tequila, nip the neck of someone, say a gorgeous Armenian cab driver, and suck the lime. Almost in answer to her thirst and desires, the vein in the side of the cab drivers neck pulsed and throbbed sensuously.
As the cab pulled into an alley behind C.J’s Crab Shack, she removed the other ingredients from her purse and enjoyed her first drink on Ocean drive. Friday afternoon passed as a continuation of her previous gluttony. She had a Lithuanian bloody twist of lime, at C.J’s, then a Cuban one at Larios. A tall beautiful dancer from the islands, dressed in a leopard skin pantsuit who worked at Mango’s, made an exquisite drink, and a Russian at Wet Willie’s added a touch of vodka to her next.
A cute young man, wearing the slightest pair of shorts Christina had ever seen, added a touch of vermouth at the Palace. A tall, dark and rich, musky flavored Haitian woman recognized her addiction at Fat Tuesday’s, her mind resisted, but her body was only too willing.
There were several tourists along the way. Who could resist such tempting treats? The salt from the sea, having soaked into their skin, eliminated the need for the season packets entirely and gave the drink authenticity it lacked and required. Near fifteenth, a young parking attendant wearing an eye patch almost sated her thirst, and then a Columbian bartender at, Buffalo Wings, reminded her, once again, just how dry Miami could be.
From The Front Porch, Christina admired the diverse throng twisting and weaving along the sidewalk. South Beach was truly the international smorgasbord, she had heard it was. There would be other vacations here, she was sure of it. The beauty and bouquet of it was simply too tempting to be denied.
A Miami Beach Police Officer stood on the corner near Lummis Park, idly watching the passersby. His dark blue, short sleeved uniform shirt burst with the beauty of his thick arms and tempting chest. Christina attained the sidewalk and started in his direction, stumbling theatrically. She was what he was being paid to watch for. She was tall and chocolate colored, her height was accentuated by stilettos and long legs wrapped tightly in leather pants.
Poor drunk baby, was his first thought as she stumbled across the street, his second, after taking a better look, what a job. Still it was his job, and if she were a little too tight to tango, he would need to invite her to spend the night at Miami Beach’s most popular resort, one frequented by tourists and the rich and famous alike.
Nearing the officer, Christina stumbled on the curb, burped loudly and smiled comically, before turning away and quite intentionally throwing up in a bush. Officer Prentiss promptly performed his duty, and within moments Christina was cuffed and stuffed into his patrol car. Prentiss watched as the beautiful girl in his back seat smiled all the way to the department. Her smile while intoxicating was dangerous and remarkably exciting. He fanaticized of being off duty and accompanying or worshiping this queen instead of arresting her.
Christina tried to maintain the impression of drunkenness and fought the giddy anticipation of what her new friend was delivering her to. The vein in his neck throbbed making her body throb, their dance a thing of beauty and antiquity only she understood. Once the door closed behind them, and she was safely inside the Miami Beach Police Station, not something the roughly two hundred other souls inside could say, she raised her hands to show him, his cuffs, his laws and indeed his authority had meant very little. So began a two day feast of overindulgence, she would go on a diet when she got home, but wasn’t this what vacations were for?
Monday morning, the Miami Police Department, was still trying to figure out the plane filled with the dead which had landed at the Miami airport, the State Police were sorting through the dead of Ocean Drive, and the F.B.I. was still trying to understand what had killed every soul in the Miami Beach Police Station.
Monday afternoon Christina enjoyed her first bloody twist of lime in Key West. Seems even vampires need vacations.