Miami Spice

Chapter 3

Erica Rael knew the value of money and what it could or could not buy. She knew her condo apartment remained a wise investment, and she snapped it up as soon as she had amassed the down p*****t. As a daughter of Cuban refugees, she learned all about hard work. Her father, a painter in his former life, never considered his job as a restaurant manager to be beneath him. He had a family of eight to support, plain and simple. In addition, Erica's mother worked as a daycare assistant. The fact that Olga Elena Rael held an advanced degree in education cut no ice when she had to find any job she could in this country to put food on the family table. Second in order of birth, Erica had an older brother, Estaban, and younger siblings Maritza, Gabriel, Selena and Vianney.

Since the age of fourteen, she had helped her father in the restaurant, and when Santos Rael had time, he showed Erica the wonderful world of art. For young Erica, colors, textures, style and perspective seemed as natural to her as breathing, and she knew her flair for such came from an optimistic and patient instructor. With all this on her side, she wholeheartedly embraced her creative genes as well as her heritage.

Her apartment reflected her tastes, from the light peach, turquoise and cream walls to exotic and colorful prints done by Hispanic artists. Her preferences in furnishings ran to stressed and natural woods, woven Guatemalan fabrics, and thick Mexican glassware. Now, as she took her new housekeeper on a tour, Erica felt proud to call her colorful but comfortable place her very own home.

"Yes, I see I won't have too much to worry about," Rosina Gonzales concurred as she surveyed Erica's surroundings with a crucial eye for detail. "You are a fairly neat person, senorita. I like that. Now then..."

The little barrel of a woman wandered back to the L-shaped kitchen. She wore a light gray uniform and a pristine white apron around her ample girth. According to Sacha, Rosina could run a vacuum cleaner around a so-called professional cleaning crew any day and still have time to wipe down the counters. In addition, she wore comfy white Crocs and kept her long hair in a tight braid.

"About this other little matter." As she spoke, Rosina opened Erica's refrigerator and took inventory of what her new employer had to offer. "I will give you satisfaction in finding out all about this neighbor of yours."

"As long as you're not intrusive," Erica countered. "I wouldn't want to get a reputation as a tenant who goes around asking her housekeeper to get the goods on my neighbors."

"Do not worry, guapa." As the housekeeper laughed heartily, she tapped the side of her head with a pudgy finger. "I have good eyesight, good hearing and a good head. Plus, I look very motherly. It is amazing what strangers will tell me. I do a good job, and no one will ever know I am under the covers! Information can be bought for a good price, like my homemade guacamole."

Rosina brought out a bowl of fresh cut pineapple. "First, I find the other maids here. They are a fontana of information about what goes on in this building. Then I work from there. Within two, three days, I should have answers to pass along."

Covert operations, spies and information for the price of a few avocados? Just what exactly had Erica gotten herself into? All this in order to appease her curiosity over a Mr. Gianni Sloan, the playboy of Palmetto Terrace? Oh well, more often than not, curiosity came with a price.

So, leaving her apartment in capable hands, Erica finished readying for work. As she cinched a red belt around her waist, she took stock of herself in the full-length mirror. She never considered herself a beauty, but she wasn't a total fea either.

She credited her mother's side of the family for her fair complexion, and her father's side for the sable eyes and matching hair. She usually wore it just below the shoulder and with just a bit of natural curl. Her one physical asset, her voluptuous bosom, could be a toss-up genetically. Erica had no complaints about her ample breasts, and neither had former lovers.

Now, with a pastel blue and white striped sundress, she slipped on sandals to match the belt. She looked crisp, efficient, and oozed creative zeal. Today was the day she and Sacha went to present their schematics to Mrs. Weissman. If all went well, and the client approved them, she planned to take her partner out for a celebratory drink along with their boss and owner, Craig Marin. Mrs. Weissman and her estate represented a good chuck of money for the firm. Confident that their proposal would be met with enthusiasm, Erica could almost taste that pina colada with her name on it.