"I hated being called his Rosa. Every man that had me for a night was sure to remind me that I wasn't human anymore. I wasn't a person anymore. I mean how could I be? A person has a soul, and by that time I had already gave it up to the devil." Jade...
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One week earlier...
It's been a long days travel getting into Cuba unscathed and unnoticed. Havana was uncharted territory for the Italian mafia, but not for the cuban cartel and the Spanish mob. Iris knew very well her home city will always be land with bloodshed.
Girls are taken in the middle of the night, poverty is high, but their are many cuban families that live comfortably. Only if they had a hand in the cartels laundering businesses. Boys are either kidnapped or killed. That's Havana after sundown.
Thats why her family left. They yearned for a better life. But unforeseen circumstances thought of another idea.
But Havana before sundown is the real beauty. The warm air sticks to your skin, the sun brighter then anywhere else in the world. The smells of bakery's, restaurants, even market's fill the streets. Multiple outlets of music blast music from someone's apartment window, an outdoor bar, a table on the sidewalk where men play card games.
The sound of laughter, cars, bikes passing, and mamà's shouting light conversations to each other from their windows.
Iris sits at the outdoor bar watching the couples, friend groups, and families dance to the reggae music. The red, knee length sun dress complimented her tan skin and legs. Her long, naturally wavy hair pinned in an updo, letting a few strands frame her face.
"Red looks good on you." Alessio says his Italian accent welcome her ears.
She doesn't turn his way, but she can see in her peripheral that he ditched his suit jacket. His crisp white button down is tucked in his black slacks. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. His full jet black hair tussled and styled to fall just above this eyebrows.
Iris is a good observer. She has to be in this line of work. She likes to be; reading people is a skill she set herself to have.
"I know. It's my favorite color." Iris replies arching her brow as she welcomes the cosmo drink to the lips.
"I believe this is where you compliment me." Alessio says as he takes the drink from the bartender and turns to her.
"I would if there was something to compliment." Iris says turning to him.
Their plan they went over a bunch of times before coming to Havana. Two strangers meet in a small bar not knowing that the cartel does business there. The plan is to scope the place out, and see if Romano men dabble here.
The sound of the Spanish guitar gracefully surrounds the bar. The lantern lights and candles illuminate the night sky. A local begins to sing an original piece. He's not hispanic, he's African American, but the way his fingers carry on the guitar skillfully, displays he's no stranger to the culture.
"Do you dance?" Alessio asks Iris, noticing in his peripheral vision the bartender watching them intently.
this was a local bar in the deepest parts of Havana. So tourists here is rare. Maybe one unrecognizable face is okay, but two? Raises red flags.
