Maritza Ramos was a 27-year old millionaire playgirl who had a penthouse apartment in every major city in America.
She gained her wealth by inheriting her father Alejandro's exotic car dealership. He also left her a substantial amount of cash and a mansion in Los Angeles. The mansion she sold and invested the money in a small start-up company that turned into a global cosmetic line. Maritza provided for her mother, who got nothing after her father's death since they were divorced, and her sister Lucia, who was not Alejandro's child. They lived in Miami, each with their own house and SUV. Maritza didn't have to worry about her family struggling.
Maritza mainly lived in New York, because that was where the dealership was, but there were times when she lived in Houston, where InstaGlam's headquarters were. Today though, she was neither in New York, or Texas. She was in Vegas. The Wynn hotel to be exact. There was a big convention for America's young, rich and elite and naturally her invitation was sent out early. She was after all one of the most successful young women in the US.
More than that, Maritza loved a good party, and what was a bigger party than Vegas? A bar around every corner, beautiful women and gorgeous men with just the right amount of low morals.
"OMG, Maritza? Is that you?", the feisty but short Latina heard as she was sitting by the bar, enjoying a class of Rèmy Martin mixed with pineapple juice. She turned around and found a blonde woman, around her age, but taller standing behind her and looking like a giddy teenager.
"It's me, Piper. Remember? We uhm, hooked up at your friend's wedding".
Maritza took a while before she actually remembered the girl. She did remember a mouthy blanca with a tendency to talk about artisan soaps during sex.
"Heeey", she said slight annoyance.
"It's been a while, right? Hey, do you maybe wanna get outta here and…."
"I'm really sorry, but I'm flying back to NYC real early tomorrow and I can't afford a late night". Maritza placed a $100 bill on the counter and lifted herself from the bar stool.
"It was real nice seeing you again, Pepper", she said as she made her way through the crowd.
"It's Piper, you bitch!", the blonde yelled out.
I'm so done with white chicks, Maritza thought.
Flaca wasn't quite sure how she ended up in Vegas, but here she was, awkwardly smiling and clapping as her best friend and the bride-to-be, Zee Cabrera was getting a lap dance from an oily, way too muscular male stripper.
Maybe the 25-year old Flaca would have enjoyed it more if it was a sexy female stripper, but then again she didn't like the exploitation of woman and their sexuality.
"What's the matter? You ain't having fun, maid of honour?", Daya, her other friend, asked.
"It ain't that, I'm just a little tired. I think I should go back to my room".
"We know you ain't into dudes; we could hook you up with a girl, don't worry", Daya said and nudged Flaca with her elbow.
"Nah, I just need some sleep. Our plane leaves at eight, that's early".
Daya conceded. "Alright, you get some sleep. Imma look after these two", she said and pointed towards Zee and Michelle, who were both enjoying the attention of the stripper.
Flaca made her way out of the club and hurried down the street. They were staying at an okay hotel that would've been considered a good one, had it not been directly across from the Wynn. As she was about to cross the street, a big black Range Rover almost ran her over. Paralyzed by what had almost happened, Flaca couldn't move. One of the backdoors flung open and out hopped a tiny girl, dressed in a form-fitting teal dress and stappy six-inch stilettoes.
"Oh my God, you're okay right?", the girl asked.
Flaca regained the ability to speak, but then her eyes locked with the girl's. She was so beautiful, Flaca thought.
"It was my driver's fault. But don't worry, I won't be using him anymore".
Flaca stepped to the side of the street, feet firmly on the sidewalk.
"Are you okay?", Maritza asked again.
"I'm f-fine. I w-was just… I'm fine now".
Maritza sized the girl up. She was tall, much much taller than Maritza. She had long black hair, straight too. She was pretty. Maritza had seen prettier, but still, she couldn't quite stop looking at her.
"Stay right here", Maritza ordered and walked off to the Range. After exchanging some words with the driver, the vehicle drove off.
Maritza returned to Flaca's side. "He said he's sorry, but I'm still calling the supervisor in the morning".
"I'm okay, really. Next time I'll check before I cross the street". Flaca offered a weak smile.
Maritza looked at her Rolex. 21:19. The night was still young.
"Let me buy you a drink, just to calm you down. We can have one at the Wynn. I'm staying there". Maritza took the girl's hand and lead her through the entrance.