Page 23 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

Rushing out of the rental with my head and heart pounding, I was lucky to find Trinidad in the corner of the quiet, picturesque street. Each house on the block looked far from the other.

“Ms. V,” I hollered at her, and her shoulders stiffened at the sound of my voice. Shit. I really had messed this one up.

“Go away,” Trinidad said in that Latina mom voice that made you wonder if you had ever done anything right in your life.

“Nah, can we chat? Listen. I just played back what I said, and it came out all kinds of wrong. That wasn’t my intent.” At this point, my stomach had become a rung-out sponge with nothing left but courage and audacity.

“I don’t care. I realized this was a mistake. I thought I could maybe stay, but…no. I need to get to the airport,” Ms. V said, running a palm over her sweaty forehead.

Damn, but she was fine as hell. I could imagine that the same sweat was caused by better reasons running down her face, her smooth chestnut neck, and her cleavage, which varied in degrees of separation depending on the outfit. Right now, the girls were sitting nicely together. Did they have that intriguing heaviness I’d seen in older women while browsing my porn? I got lost imagining what it could be and must have stayed quiet for a long time. Ms. V’s loud “ahem” snapped me out of my trance.

“Listen… I can take you to the Ofele airport as part of my rounds today. We can also go to the bus stop and the rental car place. But I need your assistance. I need… I need help making people comfortable while looking for my five-year-old daughter.”

ELEVEN

Trinidad

“Excuse me, what?” I stared at Orlando, looking so fresh and clean in his outfit, his New York swag unmistakable. Anger should have been the primary emotion operating inside me, and it was initially. Still, within seconds, I started imagining what Icoulddo for him to get me back to New York, and then I grew angry with myself.

Zero self-perseverance, just lust and a clitoris that hadn’t been appropriately touched save for self-touch in more than a year. That is what fueled my addled brain, images of Orlando settling himself between my legs to feast right on that sofa in his living room. Or me standing by the beautiful big window that faced the crystalline pool and palm trees in the backyard, getting pounded by a fully naked, ebony smooth, glistening trunk of a man. Orlando to be exact, in case there were any doubts.

There was no pride residing in me after these filthy thoughts. So without a word, I turned around and left that Airbnb of sin and temptation, not wanting even to consider what I would have said if I had stayed for a few more seconds.

I could have never expected this to be what he actually meant. A daughter? A five-year-old daughter? Bitter disappointment took over the anger and lust, leaving me empty and depleted.

What a day. What a week.And now the one man I thought had the type of fortitude and integrity to do the right thing by my sons was a philanderer who had a daughter. He didn’t even know the location of said child.

“Yeah, I… I need help.” Orlando shifted his stance, his shoulders drooping, his gaze pleading. Damn him and those pretty dark brown eyes. Why would God give him such pretty eyes? What a waste. Deserters of children should not have such lovely eyes. Reminded me of my good-for-nothing ex-husband.

You sure know how to pick them, girl.

Oh callate, como jodes.

Wonderful. I was now talking to myself. This day had reduced me to talking to my damn self.

“I’m not sure I can help ’cause I don’t condone child abandonment.” My voice crackled with the remaining anger from earlier, underlined by the hurt of knowing this man wasn’t what he presented.

“Abandon? Ms. V, with all due respect, I’m fucking offended. What about me makes you think I would abandon a child?”

Oh, now he was the one mad? Excuse me, I didn’t realize the tables had turned so quickly. Two seconds ago, he was looking all pitiful and in need of help. Now he stood tall and rigid, and my brain, the treacherous organ, tried to conjure more images of sexy, naked, glistening Orlando.

“Ohhh, you don’t get to be mad! I’m not the one with a five-year-old. God knows where.” I gestured wildly, my voice increasing in volume.

Behind us was a pretty blue house with white trimmings. The front window curtain fluttered, and a set of eyes appeared. Damn. I was making a scene.

“You have me in the middle of this quaint little street acting a damn fool. Those days are long past me!” I screamed. Well, I guess I wasn’tthatconcerned about making a scene.

“What, what do you mean those days? Never mind, listen. Why don’t we go back to the rental?”

Oh, he was now using the “this broad is mental” tone. All men had it, they started talking slightly slower, their inflections precise and modulated. Some even whispered. That shit didn’t work with me.

“No, say what you have to say right here. That will determine my next steps.”

“Aren’t you the one with no place to stay and stranded with no flights out?”

“This man-child didn’t just…” I paced on the concrete, the rollaway wheels struggling with the uneven little gravel.

“I can hear you, Ms. V.”

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