Miami Misnomer

By Robert Earl

Simon Rolla was a violent and troubled youth with a scarred checkered past and a painful dark secret. He’s now a member of the notorious City of Miami Police Department, despite being raised in an impoverished Miami neighborhood where death, drugs, and crime reigned supreme. 


Simon's days are kept busy pro

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Earl
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781535607902

Robert Earl

Robert Earl was born in Baltimore, Maryland. He resides in the Miami area. He is a successful realtor and world traveler, and is currently attending the University of Miami. His writing is inspired by his countless experiences from living in the dark abyss of drug addiction for over twenty years. This is his second novel.

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Miami Misnomer

Robert Earl

Copyright © 2017 Robert Earl

All rights reserved. No part(s) of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form, or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval systems without prior expressed written permission of the author of this book.

ISBNs

Epub: 978-1-5356-0789-6

Dedication

To all the hurting, hopeless, forgotten people who find themselves lost and abandoned in the mean, hard streets and languishing in Jails and Prisons for whatever reasons—be it drugs, mental illness, or plain ole bad luck. This is for You and to Them who found grace from God to empower themselves, who held on tight and pulled themselves up out of their miry existences and who can now say, I’m still here, baby. How you like me now?

To My Mom, Mrs. Carrie Tisdale. Rest in peace. To My Stepfather, Mr. Wilbert Tisdale. Rest in peace.

To Miami-Dade Police Director Robert Parker. Rest in peace.

1 Corinthians 9:22

To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.

Matthew 22:14

For many are called, but few are chosen

Author’s Note

Due to the sensitive material and the nature of this story, the names of characters were changed to protect the guilty. No one had foreknowledge of what I was writing, nor did anyone collaborate with me, so nobody can be held responsible for me. I’m not politically correct, nor am I trying to be. I’m off the chain, and there’s no holding me back. I’ll tell the truth about a thing in my own way. I didn’t whitewash over any subject. Somebody needs to tell it like it is and have the balls to speak up. For that, I offer absolutely no apologies. If the shoe fits, then wear it. If I walked down the block or back alley where you lived, then so be it. The truth is the truth. There are good and bad people in every race and nationality. You know who you are. This book may not be for you, so don’t read it if you are too prissy and holier than thou or too heavenly minded to be of any earthly good. Well, don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Be that as it may, rest assured that God will get His word and message out one way or the other. If he could use a jackass to speak to the prophet Balaam, then, Lord, here am I. Use my Black ass for Your glory and bless this story.

Acknowledgments

I will first and foremost give thanks to the Almighty Creator Lord God. Without His guidance inspiration and blessed gifts, I would not have written this superb story. I am nothing without Him.

I want to thank all of the residents of Miami-Dade and Broward Counties who really live this story day in and day out, every day of their lives, and the lives of those who contributed to the context of this tale.

I’d like to thank Miss Lenora (Lee) Holmes, Mr. Charles and Joyce Matthews, Miss Jill Tracey, Missey Bailey, Gwen Edwards, my old friends Maestro, Shelby, Angie, Cathy and all of the other employees at Cox Radio. Smokie Foxx, Lineen Farmer, Author Gary Ruse and Al McGee, Mr. Gary Lee, the director at the Coleman Federal Prison, and the inmates. Sharon German, Big Roy Foster, Lean Singleton, Rosalind Jackson, Carol Coley, Nathan Moss, Jeanna, Karen Jones, Natalie Brunson, Melanie Jones, Miramar’s TV and radio host Tamera (G) Gant, and Phoenix Land and Title’s George and Jennifer. Robert Henderson Jr., Angelique N. Hibbert, and my two faithful Muses who kept my work on point, Dorlene Neptune and Robert Carroll. Alex Viera, The City of Miramar, Florida, Murielle Lubin, Jackie Stokes, Davie Law Group, All of My Faithful Readers, All of My Family Members, you know who you are. Butch, James, Wilbert, Mabel, Leronia Josey, attorney-at-law, Dr. Betty A. Jones, my friend Dr. Yvonne McCullough Wakhisih and Annie Lorial Wilson. Special thanks goes out to all the other friends and acquaintances that I personally pray for and carry in my heart and mind. God bless you, South Florida.

Edited by McIntire Edits.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Introduction

This is a peephole into a gritty, brutal, realistic, no-holds-barred trek through the mean streets, gutters and sewers of Miami’s highly dangerous and forbidden neighborhoods. Long off-limits to the sophisticated, fake ass, bougie crowds, this is not about the mansions, beaches or palms trees. It’s a glance at the dirty truths we all know but want to forget. As told by a masterful procurer of words, a very reliable witness who purchased for you, at a great price, a ringside seat into this grim, evil world. So take a load off your ass sit down, relax and enjoy the fast-paced ride. This is a real novel in every sense of the word—original, fresh, unconventional, surprising, unusual, innovative, and rare. It’ll engage you and make you laugh, weep, and think. I guarantee you, this is a page turner you can’t put down. Can you handle the truth?

Chapter 1

The Year of Our Lord 1980

What the fuuck?" Simon Rolla said to himself, rubbing his redden bloodshot eyes in disbelief while shaking his head in shock. He was totally dumbfounded and surprised. He’d awakened abruptly from passing out and was still drowsy and somewhat hung-over when he’d accidently gotten a quick glance or rather, a bird’s eye view of a hairy, nut sack as she bent over the pedestal sink reaching up stretching to snag one of the huge, fluffy white bath towels she needed for her shower.

It had happened all so fast. Her back was turned, she was wrapped up cutely in a towel, and when she bent leaning forward, lo and behold, out popped the weasel, the eighth wonder of the world, a three-inch uncircumcised dick dangling in all of its glory. The times were changing fast but even with all the medical advances, he knew that a woman still wasn’t supposed to have a dick and nuts or whatever you want to call them. But here we are, trying to understand how he could’ve slipped like this. Sure, it was a small penis as far as dicks go, but nevertheless, it was still there and he had received a disheartening eyeful of it and now she was busted, little dick and all.

With all due respect, and even in spite of that, you actually had to give this brazen, ballsy bitch credit for having the balls, pun intended, to try him like that. She was still dazzlingly stunning, a motherfucker, breathtakingly beautiful even with her saggy nuts flying all over the goddamn place and apparently, the bitch had fooled him. Mainly because she hadn’t carried on like a flaming fag. You know, with all that excessive feminine, over the top, diva bullshit that they do to imitate a real chick.

As he laid there with his face pressed firmly against the silken pillow, he could still smell her sweet, intoxicating aroma. The sweaty seductive nectarine fragrance of her expensive perfume still lingered heavily on him. He licked his lips and her sweet mango peach lip gloss was still pressed on his lips, transplanted by all of the heated, lusty French tongue kissing they’d done. He spat slightly and wiped his mouth off with his shirt sleeve, like that was magically going to erase what had happened. She giggled and sang to herself in the bathroom. He frowned, punching his opened hand with his hard fist and cussing himself again, Damn fool.

He was lying sideways with all of his strapping two hundred and twenty pounds stretched out across the plush king-sized, heart-shaped waterbed in room 214 of the Stardust Motel that was located right dab in the middle of the infamous red-light district of Miami just off Biscayne Boulevard. It was a cheap, low end measly dive used by the local residents as a rendezvous jump off cheating spot and by the prostitutes and their johns looking to facilitate their illicit sexual transactions.

He was all of 6’3, very muscular with a slim waist, broad shoulders and a big chest from working out. Reddish brown thinning hair cut in the latest crew cut faded style crowned his head. He was certainly good looking by most women’s standards, but there was something a bit cruel in the mouth and the close-set hazel eyes that were ever distant, icey cold, and uncaring were camouflaged by a set of cute, sweeping eyelashes and thick eyebrows. A reddish brown mustache and goatee outlined his thin mouth that encased a set of pearly white choppers. He began to massage a small vertical scar that accentuated his rugged square jaw as he did whenever he was in deep thought.

He rolled his freckled red ass over off of his left arm that had gone to sleep. Simon began to massage his arm to bring it back to life to get the blood flowing again and, sequencing his dilated pupils, he checked his black leather Movado watch for the time. It was still there on his wrist and the contents of his wallet was still intact, including the money he had won from them niggers in that crap game at Moe’s afterhours spot, so robbery could definitely be ruled out tonight. He rubbed his right leg across the bed to feel it still there. Strapped in the custom made leather holster attached to his right ankle like a part of his body was a .50 caliber magnum two shot derringer, his faithful girlfriend he’d dubbed Josephine.

Simon was still dressed but the zipper of his brown gabardine pants was down and coated in runoff flaky dried semen. This bitch wasn’t a seasoned pro, or at least she wasn’t on the clock tonight, because he would have been rolled and robbed way long before now. This frisky freak had brought him straight home to her personal habitat. Thieving whores working the streets can’t and won’t make those kinds of amateurish mistakes. Through burning, watering eyes he made a quick scan of the low budget hotel room revealing that obvious fact.

Scattered indiscriminately about the room were worn Victoria’s Secret panties, assorted combs and brushes, lipsticks and makeup cases sprawled out all over the damn place. Sitting out on top of the Colonial dresser in plain view lay a box of opened Trojan condoms. A crumbled up one way Greyhound bus ticket from Washington, DC was discarded in the butt-filled glass ashtray and a makeup stained facecloth lay underneath an electric curling iron. On the other side of the room, fresh clothes still with the plastic bags and hangers straight from the cleaners were hanging in a closet with no door and, in silent agreement, a waste basket full of Burger King wrappers proclaimed, Have it your way, bitch. Stevie Wonder could see that she was a hustler living from hand to mouth, pillar to post and on the road tied down to nothing and nobody, able to up and scat at a moment’s notice. She was traveling light and alone, or at least he didn’t see anything pertaining to a man around.

The digital light on the clock radio protruding out of the bed’s decorative red wooden headboard indicated that it was around 3a.m. Holding and massaging both sides of his head at the temples to keep it from falling off, he racked and reeled his groggy, drug-induced brain while recollecting his thoughts and piecing together what had transpired tonight. Simon recalled 10:30p.m. That’s about the time he had rolled his happy ass into the swank, newly opened Jet Away Club, the coveted who’s who hangout frequented by most of the beautiful hip people of Miami. In retrospect, that should have been the last place he’d want to go on account of the fact that he was entering a new stage in his life. Like the old folks say, Old things are passed away, behold all things are becoming new. After withstanding much constant pressures, he had reluctantly applied, after being aggressively recruited by Captain Murphy, and had somehow miraculously passed all the drug and preliminary tests required to join the Miami Police Department. In less than five weeks, he would be entering the academy as a cadet to begin his training and his new life.

This was supposed to be a celebration. He had made his rounds, visiting and carousing in various other clubs. He’d hit the Miami Nights and Strawberries nightclubs before ending up at that particular watering hole in North Miami. He had received some disturbing news, a troubling word while out partying concerning the sudden stroke and hospitalization of his adopted grandmother, Ma Ader. All of the jubilation had turned sour now and had become a futile attempt to cope with and find relief from the mounting sad, overwhelming feeling of hopelessness.

Sugar, hand me that bar of soap on the table please, Miss Thing requested, calling out, almost moaning in an overly compensating sexy ass voice and interrupting his trance

Bitch, do I look like the butler? Use what they got!

She giggled in response, indicating it was alright to address her in that manner and tone. She was used to being called a bitch and loved the subliminal implications she derived from it. Noooo, silly. I’ve got sensitive skin. I can’t use any ole thing.

He grudgingly got up and threw her the bar of expensive soap while closing the bathroom door behind him. He mumbled under his breath with a tinge of sarcasm, Could’ve fooled me, nigger. Simon’s ego was deflated like four flat tires. He was crushed because this transvestite faggot had beguiled and played him like a cheap violin. She had gotten over on him and she had swindled his dick.

As he laid there looking up at the mirrored ceiling, he began to replay the night in his mind. He remembered now how beautiful and classy she had appeared to him in the dimly lit club. She was a fucking Amazon balancing in six-inch stiletto heels, a goddess dressed in a black tight, form-fitting skirt with her hips exploding poppin fresh like the Pillsbury Doughboy. A skimpy low-cut red blouse rode her sumptuous cleavage and her long, flowing, jet-black hair was parted off to the right side with fine baby hair outlining her edges and highlighting her milky brown skin. She was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. He remembered how his heart had leaped and skipped a beat when she suddenly approached him in the crowded V.I.P. room, asking if he was alright and if everything was okay while offering him a glass of Moët and suddenly it felt as if she wasn’t putting him on. It was like she was really concerned about his answers. They clicked instantly, sparking the fiery, sensual pistons of red hot emotional electricity.

Fast forward the clock, speed up the time, blame it on the drugs, the seductive conversation or the one too many slow acting mixed drinks like the Tom Collins and Sex on the Beach martinis to name a few and damnmit ! The next thing you know, they were passionately kissing from the Yellow Cab to the hotel room. The door was barely closed before she had begun and her unzipping his fly. She shoved her hair back away from her face, pulling out his thick, elongated member, placing it into her warm, moist, awaiting mouth without any edging on at all. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Man, that had really turned him on something terrible. Here she was the aggressive one and he didn’t have to ask or beg her for some head. She had pushed him down on the bed tucking a lock of hair behind her ear while still sucking up and down on him. Her small, soft, wet tongue gently twirled around the tip of his sensitive penis, slowly transforming him to a hardened rock. Squeezing it gently and delaying his orgasm, she methodically grabbed his thick, spit glistened dick and hurriedly mounted him from the top, pulling her panties to the side and easing down slowly because of her tightness onto his awaiting pulsating member and encompassing the entirety of it, while taking charge all the way. It had all happened so fast.

Simon exhaled blissfully as he