“Are you okay?”
“Much better. Thank you. Must be all the tropical plants,” Yoko lied. “I suppose I should be going. I’ve taken up much too much of your time.” Yoko was still trying to figure out how to contact Gabby again. “Did you say you would be at the market?”
“I hope to be. I’m working on some decoupage boxes I hope to sell,” Gabby replied.
“Me as well,” Becker added. He hadn’t been that attracted to a woman since ... he couldn’t remember when. That Tina woman is quite a looker, he thought. And I always had a thing for older women. Then he started to blush.
“Great. I’ll see both of you at the market. Thanks again.” Yoko tried not to rush to her car. She could hardly wait until she could let everyone know that Gabby was all right.
Yoko sent a group text to everyone: Found GR. She is OK. Meeting at mrkt Sat. Will call ASAP.
She hit the gas pedal as if she were stomping out a fire, navigating the turns in the road as fast as safety would allow. She wound her way through the town of Homestead and reached the Ronald Reagan Turnpike. If traffic was light, it would take her only another thirty-five minutes to get back to the hotel. When she arrived, Maggie and Alexis were anxiously waiting and bombarded her with questions. “Where is she? How is she? How did you contact her?”
Yoko could barely catch her breath. “She’s okay. I ran into her after the open house. A huge stroke of luck. When I first arrived, there was no sign of her. I sat with a small group, meditated, listened to someone named Becker speak. No sign of Liam. Becker was about to lead me to my car when I asked him for a little tour. I have to admit, I used some of my feminine wiles because he was clearly uncomfortable showing me around without the permission of whoever really runs that place.”
Maggie’s eyes welled up again. “I cannot thank you enough, Yoko.”
Alexis hugged both of them. “We should call in.”
Maggie punched in Annie’s speed dial number. “Hey! We need to schedule a call.”
“Yes, we do!” Annie’s voice was filled with delight. “Give us an hour.”
“Will do.” Maggie hung up and flung herself on the bed. “Now I can eat!” She picked up the room service menu and ordered enough food for ten people.
“Are you expecting guests?” Alexis teased.
“Nope. So what are you both going to order?” The women cackled with delight. The Maggie they knew and loved was back.
Chapter Twenty-four
Diecinueve camino de la luna amarilla
When Rachel returned to her room, she stripped off her clothes, including the shredded underwear. She got into the shower and scrubbed her body until it was raw, sobbing uncontrollably the entire time.
Diedre heard Rachel’s wails and rushed into the bathroom. She pulled out a soft terry cloth robe and towel, opened the shower door, and wrapped Rachel in them, hugging her tightly. “I know, sweetie, I know.” She walked Rachel to her bed and used a hair dryer to help dry her hair. Then she just sat with her, lending what comfort she could.
Once Rachel regained her composure, Diedre spoke to her softly. “Honey, the first time is usually the worst. Things should get better from here on out.” She dug the cigarettes out from under her pillow and lit one up. “I don’t know if it’s the shock at what we’re doing that finally sinks in or the fear of what’s to come.” She took a drag of her cigarette. “But I will tell you this, I’ve never been assaulted physically, if you don’t count the rape part of it. I mean, they won’t let anyone hit you or abuse you in that way.” Diedre let out a long exhale. “Most of the time the men are too drunk. I think they get off on the idea, not so much the act itself.”
“The power thing?” Rachel was finally able to speak without hiccupping.
“Yep. They are powerful men, and their penises are their divining rods.” Diedre stomped out her cigarette, and Rachel giggled for the first time since arriving at this terrible place.
“How often does this happen?” Rachel wanted to know what was to come next.
“Usually once a week, for the two days of the weekend. These guys can’t be absent from the public for too long without arousing suspicion. They come here to say they’ve been here, eaten, drunk, smoked, and had their way with beautiful women. It’s a revolving door of narcissists, sociopaths, and dirtbags.”
“So when will we be on call next, do you suppose?” Rachel was steadying herself for the answer.
“I hear there is going to be a few of them here in a few days. Politicians and industrialists.”
“Here’s an important question. What about STDs? Sexually transmitted diseases?”
“That’s what this is for.” Diedre went into the linen closet and produced a new package that contained a red bottle with a small hose.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Rachel recognized the contraption.
“Better to be safe.” Diedre handed her a bottle of Betadine solution. “Go,” she said, pointing to the bathroom.
Rachel complied. Diedre was becoming her coach and confidante. She called out from the bathroom, “Do we have to have breakfast with them tomorrow?”
“Nope. They get room service, so they can nurse their hangovers in private. Then they get out of here.”
“Do they take the helicopter?”
“Not all of them. Just the Americans. Most of the other men come from countries that have diplomatic relations with Cuba, so the country is not officially off-limits to them. They usually fly their private jets here. There is a landing strip about a mile away, and the club provides a shuttle service.”
“How do you know all this?” Rachel reappeared from the bathroom.
“Months of observing, eavesdropping. Many of these guys are so impressed with themselves, they can’t help but brag about something.”
“Wow. You hear crazy stories, but you would never think you were part of a story like this one.” Rachel sat back down on her bed.
“Kind of a horror story, set in Disneyland.” Diedre chuckled. “Ironic, eh?”
“Messed up is more like it.”
Diedre got up and went over to the credenza and poured two fingers’ worth of Glenlivet XXV single-malt scotch into two tumblers. “Here. Drink this.”
Rachel was about to protest that she didn’t drink scotch but decided she could probably use a slug of something to calm her down. “I don’t usually drink scotch, but this is no time to be picky. What the heck.”
“Bottoms up!” Diedre clinked glasses with her, and they both chugged the expensive elixir.
“Whoa!” Rachel exclaimed. “Smooth and yet not so smooth.”
“Just like this place.” Diedre paused. “You get used to it.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Pinewood