felt as if they were in heaven, and compared to where they had come from, it was heaven to them.
As they were eating, a bell rang. The guys looked up and saw the large guy from earlier who blocked them from entering the ship.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please,” he said. All eyes were on him. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to my boss and the king of all bosses. Give it up for King!”
The man stepped aside, and everyone’s eyes shifted to the grand staircase. Swag, Tyler, and Travis were expecting a Marlon Brando Godfather mob boss to come down. But all the guys were amazed by a five-foot-seven Costa Rican chick who looked to be no more than 21 years old. She appeared to be mixed with Italian ancestry, and she cascaded down the stairs with the vision of billions of dollars blowing around her. She had long, curly, honey-blond hair that went past her shoulders. Her makeup was flawless, but her natural beauty didn’t require her to need much at all. She had a body that would put many video girls out of work. It showed well in a black lace teddy that left nothing to the imagination. Her black heels were at least seven inches, and her arms and legs were toned. A tattoo of a leopard was on her left arm. And on the right of her 32DDDs was a tattoo that read Femme Fatale with a crown on top.
After her feet touched the dining room floor, she sauntered over to the table where Paco, Midnight, Swag, Tyler, and Travis were sitting. Going over to Paco first, she passionately kissed him while rubbing his face. “Hello, Paco.” She sat on his lap, then snapped her fingers. One of the topless girls gave her a glass of champagne.
Paco smiled. “Fellas, this is our new business partner who is going to make us all wealthy men. Meet King Kia Costello.”
She smiled. King had the most beautiful pearly white teeth, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement.
Swag was in total shock and disbelief, but he sensed something very wrong. He didn’t like doing business with women. Oh shit! Now, me and my boys are doing business with an even deadlier mofo.
He remembered seeing something about her. It was on Gangland, on the History Channel. The show was titled, The Green-Eyed Beauty King, Not Beauty Queen: The Rise of a Costa Rican Gangstress.
According to the program, King Kia Costello, aka King K, aka K.K., aka K.C., is an international female don of the Leopard Clit. The Leopard Clit was a criminal organization that specialized in smuggling diamonds, gold, and military machine guns across the globe. She was also a madam running a powerful prostitution ring that ran from Costa Rica, Japan, and Puerto Rico. Also, King was a deadly female assassin who would kill you without even blinking twice. She was even offered $2 million from the Ku Klux Klan to assassinate President Barack Obama when he first got into the Oval Office. But two million was chump change to a femme fatale who was worth $150 billion.
King was born to an Afro-Costa Rican prostitute, Ivy, and her father was believed to be the notorious Italian mobster, Bruno Bello, head of the Bello Family, an American Mafia crime organization. In interviews, Bruno denied King being his child and said that Ivy was a liar. But Ivy knew the truth. That family didn’t want any Negro or Hispanic biracial bastard child’s blood messing up their perfect Italian, pasta-eating bloodline. And that all women of color like her were only useful for a good time. Ivy told King when she’d first met King’s father, he was charming and made all kinds of promises to get her out of the whorehouse where she lived and worked. He promised to take her back to America, marry her, and make her a proper lady. But like all the men she’d slept with, he left, and she was stuck with his seed.
When King was born, her mother wanted to name her something special, so “King” fit perfectly. It was a way of letting her know that she came from royalty, and she was the child of Bruno, who her mother once believed was her king. Eventually, King and her mother were kicked out of the whorehouse to fend for themselves. King grew up on the hardcore streets of La Carpio, one of Costa Rica’s dangerous ghettos, where crime, drugs, and prostitution flourished everywhere. Ivy got a small apartment in the area. To support herself and King, she became the one thing she knew how to do. That was becoming a whore once again. But Ivy soon became a drug addict as well, addicted to cocaine.
King hated the way her father just played her mother like a doll and then threw her away. She made a promise to herself not to end up like her mother and to get revenge on the Bello Family, who she knew would never claim her. Through her youthful years, without any proper education, she taught herself to read, learned about art, different cultures, and fashion. She began her life of crime by seducing men, just as her mother had done. She learned the art of killing from one of her mother’s clients. She would seduce some of the wealthiest men in Costa Rica, then rob them blind and send them to meet their maker. The art of smuggling came from a drug powerhouse in her neighborhood. At the young age of 14, she smuggled drugs from Costa Rica to Miami successfully, but the drug thing wasn’t for her. She wanted to smuggle items of extreme value, and that’s when she learned the art of stealing jewelry.
At the age of 16, King was the diva of crime, commanding over a hundred soldiers who would lie, kill, and steal for her. King was brought to trial seven times in places away from her home, like Miami, Germany, and Korea, for stealing, smuggling, and possibly assassinating many political leaders. Seven juries saw her beautiful face, and with her sweet, well-cultured voice and her enchanting smile, no one believed she could’ve done those things. And the evidence always just seemed to disappear anyway.
Now, at 21, she was loved—and feared—by many in Costa Rica as boss. She owned one of the most beautiful properties she shared with her now-sober mother. All she wanted was to get revenge against her father, who left her and her mother in poverty while he lived a life of luxury in America. And the only way to do that was to team up with Paco, wanting to get over her fears of the effects of drugs and get some of the drug trafficking money she was missing out on. Once she got rid of her father and the Bello Family, she would be the number one kingpin.
Even though Swag knew she was a dangerous chick, he couldn’t see how someone so beautiful could be so deadly. He also remembered in the documentary that she was well known for her many sexual vices and that King was openly bisexual. She had said, “The one type of people I love to have sex with is a transgender because you get the best of both worlds.”
Remembering all this about her, Swag knew he had to stay in her good graces. She was definitely not one to be messed with.
“King? What kind of name is that for a chick?” Travis shouted. He was slightly tipsy from all the wine.
Everyone, including his boys, glared at him as if he had just lost his mind.
“You a chick. You supposed to be a queen,” Travis laughed.
Man, would this dude just please shut the hell up, thought Swag, who was no longer calling the shots. This dude doesn’t know who he fucking wit’. This chick is a monster.
King looked at him like a lioness hunting for her prey. She got off of Paco’s lap and went over to Travis, where she leaned forward to kiss his bottom lip. He could feel his dick rising and seriously thought she was interested in him. She licked his cheek. Then her lips traveled to his left earlobe. She sucked on it for a second—but then she chomped down hard on it with her teeth.
Travis screamed like a bitch. “Aaaaah, shit shit shit!”
King bit off a small piece of his earlobe, spitting it out on the floor. As blood rushed from Travis’s earlobe, he tearfully held it with his hand.
“Only a King can do that,” she said, reaching for a napkin to wipe her bloody mouth. As she walked away, she put her long manicured, black fingernail in her mouth, licking more blood before returning to Paco’s lap. The smile returned to her face as everyone stared in silence.
The other thing that Swag remembered from the documentary was that, for some sick reason, she loved to lick the blood of her many victims and enemies. Travis looked at her, still holding his wounded ear. She kept smiling at him, admiring her handiwork. Paco and his men began to laugh at Travis.
“You punk little pussy,” Paco said. “How can you let a female punk you like that?”
Travis