by Niyah Moore
Smiling, I leaned over to give him a kiss. I enjoyed being home with him more than performing and being onstage. A part of me wanted my life to go back to being simple like this.
Luxury’s phone rang.
He answered, “Hello?” He listened before he put the call on speakerphone. “Say that again, E.”
Egypt’s voice said, “Roxx’s song with Desire is number one on the Billboard charts, and we just dropped it the other day. There are talks of a Grammy nomination.”
“What?” I shouted in disbelief.
Luxury bragged, “My baby got a Billboard number one.”
“Congratulations, Desire,” Egypt said.
“Thank you.”
Egypt went on. “Roxx wants to shoot the video tomorrow. Sorry for the short notice, but her people said it was spur of the moment. We gotta go to Los Angeles tonight. We still gotta do the late-night show out there next week too. We will be back and forth in between to take care of these other things that are lining up for you. You might as well get your seat belt fastened, because we’re about to be on one fast-ass ride.”
“A’ight, E. We’ll get our bags packed now,” Luxury said.
I jumped up to wash the dishes. I hated leaving the house a mess.
Luxury ended the call. “Wait, baby, stop. Leave that here. I’ll have someone come and clean up. Let’s just get our stuff packed to get to LA.”
My heart was beating so fast as I rushed up the stairs. Just when I had thought about quitting, my career had taken a turn for the better.
32
DESIRE
Dream Car
Going through LAX was crazy. It was like there were paparazzi everywhere, asking questions about my col-labo with Roxx and taking pictures. We rushed out of the terminal and hopped into an SUV. I took a little nap while we drove to the hotel.
We checked in and got only a couple of hours of sleep before Nia had to rush to do my hair and makeup. The video shoot was the best experience of my life. We didn’t get to see much of LA, because after the shoot, we had to be whisked to New York for an interview. Like Egypt had said, it was like my life was in fast-forward. Next thing I knew, makeup, hair, and wardrobe folks and a bunch of new people were around all the time. Everyone around the world now knew who Desire was, and it had taken only five months. It seemed as if my life wasn’t about to slow down anytime soon. I didn’t mind, since Luxury was at my side the whole time, keeping the new folks in check.
Before we knew it, we were back in LA to do a late-night show. After taping, we went to the hotel. Up in the room, Luxury received a call from his baby mama. She was fussing and cussing about him not showing up to drop off that money. She was threatening to put him on child support.
“I told you I’m out of town. I’ll wire the money, so kill that noise,” he barked into the phone. A second later he hung up in her face. “I gotta go wire some money to Charity, so she can leave me the fuck alone.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Is this how it’s gonna be with her? Maybe it would be better to pay her once a month instead of on demand.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to work that out.” He placed a kiss on my forehead and walked out of the room.
I went over to the window and stared out. LA was pretty at night. I sat on the bed and started scrolling through Instagram. I smiled as I looked at Luxury’s posts with us backstage at the late-night show. I imagined I was an outsider looking in. All his posts showed nothing but love for me, but then I noticed something strange. He had his comments turned off. Usually, his comments were turned on. People could say some of the craziest shit, but those haters didn’t matter to me. Something must’ve happened that had made him turn it off. I decided I would ask him about it when he got back.
I left his page and went down my newsfeed. I stopped at Nasim’s latest post. It was a picture of him looking all fly. He was wearing all white and was resting against a white Range Rover. My heart stopped because that was my dream car. The caption said, “All white everything. #rover water splash emoji.”
I had told him that the Range Rover was my dream car. What the fuck was up with that?
I pulled up his number and called him. He didn’t answer.
I texted: You wrong for flossin’ my dream car.
The door to the hotel room opened right at that moment, so I quickly made my screen go black. Luxury walked in, huffing and puffing.
“What’s wrong with you?” I quizzed.
He didn’t say anything, just went out on the balcony and rested his hands on the rail.
I followed him out. “You not gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
I smacked my lips and walked back inside, but then I turned around because I wanted to know why he had turned his Instagram comments off.
“Hey, why your comments off on your Instagram?”
“I don’t want to hear shit nobody has to say, that’s why,” he barked.
“Did somebody say something in particular that pissed you off?”
“They always talking shit, callin’ my wife a stripper ho, talkin’ about my son. I want to post my pics without the negative.”
It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen the stripper comments before. I was used to shutting them out, but it felt different from them attacking him for choosing me.
“I get it,” I replied.
My phone started ringing. It was Nasim calling me back. I sent him to voicemail. He called again. I sent him to voicemail again. While Luxury was on the balcony, I sent Nasim a quick text.
Me: Can’t talk right now.
N: Okay. When are you coming to pick up your car?
I double blinked at the screen. My car? Wait, so he had bought that Range for me?
Me: Are you crazy? I can’t take that car from you. What will I tell my husband?
N: He doesn’t have to know I bought it. It’s my thank-you for my li’l tour with you.
Me: Wow. Thank you. I’m in LA now, but I’ll be back in Miami tomorrow. I’ll TTYL.
I erased our messages and sat on the bed. I went back to Nasim’s Instagram. My eyes grew heavy as I stared at Nasim in my car.
Luxury stayed out on the balcony, smoked a blunt, and scrolled through his social media accounts. I didn’t bother him or twist his arm to find out what was going on. I fell asleep before he came to bed.
33
LUXURY
Played
I stood on the balcony, smoking and scrolling through my phone, all while trying to process what Egypt had just told me. I went back into the room, and then I headed out to go wire Charity some money at the Western Union nearby. When I stepped into the hallway, Egypt was coming out of her room. When she saw me, she waited until I reached her side. She had this look on her face that unnerved me.
“What up, E?” I asked.
“I just got a call from Charity, asking me if I know anything about this dude named Nas. She’s threatening to go to the blogs about your wife cheating on you with this dude.”
“Man, is she still on that shit? Look, don’t believe the shit she told you. She’s a bona fide liar, E.”
“Where’s Desire?”
“In the room. Hey, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I gotta wire Charity some money. Once she gets it, she’ll shut the fuck up. There’s this Western Union about two blocks from here. I’ll be right back.”
“Mind if I come with you?”
“Nah. Come on.”
We walked to the elevator. When we stepped inside, she said, “Meek saw Desire go into some nigga’s hotel suite in Paris. I know she was fucking with somebody while in the UK. I got receipts to prove that.”
I glared at her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Me, Nia, and Lala had our own suspicions, because she was acting so strange, like she was hiding something. I know I should’ve told you this sooner . . . That’s not all. Desire had a hickey on her neck right before we left the tour. I talked to her about it, and she admitted to me th
at he was just a friend. I didn’t say anything to you, because I didn’t want to cause problems . . . But now with Charity talking about going to the blogs, I feel like I have to give it to you straight.”
I gritted my teeth, thinking about everything Egypt had laid on me. “You know for sure? You saw the nigga?”
“No, but talk to Meek. He saw him for sure, and he said Desire didn’t come out of that dude’s room until morning.”
“His name is Nas for sure, or you just guessing?”
She frowned as we stepped off the elevator. “I don’t know his name.”
“So, how you know it’s the same nigga Charity’s talking about? Could be a whole different nigga.”
“Unless Desire is fucking around with multiple niggas, I’m just putting two and two together. Talk to Meek.”
I shrugged, feeling like this was all some bullshit, but I was feeling my anger rise. I wasn’t the type to believe rumors and shit. I had to have hard, concrete facts, and none of this was backed up with proof. If Meek could confirm it, then that would make three people who were saying the same shit. If they had reasons to believe she was cheating on me, then it had to be true.
“Look, I know how you are, Luxury. You’re loyal and solid. I’m just saying to keep your eyes open. You don’t gotta believe me, Meek, or Charity, because the truth will come to light regardless.”
I didn’t respond.
She fell back and turned to go back to the elevator.
I kept walking to the Western Union. Before I went inside, I called Charity. I couldn’t believe I was going to have to ask her about this stupid shit. I hated that what she had been telling me all along was right.
She answered all hostile-like. “What you want, nigga?”
“Listen, you gotta chill with going to the blogs. I’m wiring you some money right now. Let’s get on a monthly schedule. I’m gonna send enough to keep you straight until next month. Every month will be the same amount. Cool?”
“Yup.”
“Do not go to the blogs with that story about this Nas or whoever. Tell me everything you know about this nigga and where I can find him. I got some questions of my own.”
She paused. “You not gonna do nothing crazy, are you?”
“Nah. I just want the fuckin’ truth.”
“Did you ask her about him?”
“No. I’m not bringing this to her until I have facts. I need some muhfuckin’ receipts, ya dig?”
“I hear you. Everybody calls him Nas. He’s from Harlem, but he’s new to Miami. He’s connected with Fat Man Bo. I heard he’s Fat Man Bo’s new hitter. He got a crackhead sister he takes care of. He’s known in these streets now.”
“Why I haven’t heard of him, then?” I said.
“You not in the streets anymore. Youse a Hollywood nigga now.”
I shook my head. “I still should know or at least have heard of this nigga. Look, I’ll call you back. I’m walking into the spot now to send the money. Kiss my son for me.”
“I got you.”
I ended the call and walked into the Western Union. My mind was running, and I was trying to think of any times that had seemed off with Desire. She was sneaky as fuck. She had the nerve to think I was fucking around on her, when she was fucking around on me? Not to mention, she was fucking with a nigga who was rocking with the muthafucka who had had her best friend killed. If he was Fat Man Bo’s hitter, then he probably was the one who had pulled the trigger.
After I wired the money, I walked back to the hotel, feeling like I wanted to bust in that room and shake Desire up. I didn’t know how to bring the shit to her. Would she come clean if I asked? My whole relationship was on the line.
When I reached my room, Meek was standing at the door, guarding it, as he was supposed to do.
As I took my key card out of my pocket, I said, “Hey, what happened in Paris? E said you saw Desire fucking around.”
He looked behind him, as if Desire was at the door. I didn’t care if she was or not; I wanted to know everything.
“Spit the shit out, nigga,” I barked.
“She had me go with her to Novotel Hotel in Paris. Some light-skinned dude came to the door. She went inside and stayed all night. I got tired of waiting and went back to our hotel.”
“So, you left her there?”
“I was getting tired, and at least she could’ve told me what time to be back. You know what I’m saying?”
“You overhear a name or anything?”
“Nah, she was pretty sneaky about it. She even gave me a few nights off once we got to London. That was what really had me weirded out.”
My heart split in two. This bitch thought she was slicked, thought she had tricked me. She had a nigga all the way fucked up.
“Next fuckin’ time, don’t leave her, no matter what. I don’t give a fuck if ya ass sleeps at the door. I pay you to protect my bitch, nigga.”
He nodded. “I got it, boss. It won’t happen again.”
“Bet.” I put the key card in the slot, opened the door, and walked into the room.
I was prepared to go the fuck off. I was going to let her ass have it, but as soon as I saw her beautiful face, I didn’t know what to say to her. I felt disgusted and played. The way she quickly made her screen dark on her phone had me wondering if she was messaging the nigga. That was my opportunity to go in.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, staring at my face.
I didn’t say anything. I walked over to the sliding door and pulled it open. I went out on the balcony and rested my hands on the rail. I took a deep breath and exhaled. It was taking everything in me not to blow up.
She followed me out. “You not gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I heard myself say. I could feel the steam leaving my ears. I felt hot all over.
She smacked her lips and walked back inside, but then she turned around and asked, “Hey, why your comments off on your Instagram?”
“I don’t want to hear shit nobody has to say, that’s why,” I yelled.
That was the truth. The higher she rose in popularity because of her music, the more vicious my comments got about her. There were some good ones, but there was a ton of shade about her past.
“Did somebody say something in particular that pissed you off?”
It was then that I should’ve asked about this Nas. I should’ve asked if she was fucking him.
I replied instead, “They always talking shit, callin’ my wife a stripper ho, talkin’ about my son. I want to post my pics without the negative.”
“I get it,” she replied.
Her phone started ringing. She sent the person to voicemail. Someone called again. She sent that person to voicemail again. Then she disappeared inside to text someone.
I took a pre-rolled blunt out of my pocket. I needed something to calm me down, because I felt like snapping her little neck. I lit it and smoked. I had been nothing but faithful, and she had been playing my ass bad. I decided to go to her Instagram to see if someone named Nas or Nasim was following her.
I found some nigga named Nas2Real. I went on his page and saw that she was following him. His last post was a pic of an all-white Range, my baby’s dream car. I smoked and studied the rest of his pics. He had been in Paris and London, judging by his pics. None of them hinted that he had been with her, but the fact that he had been overseas at the same time was all the proof I needed.
I smoked and processed. I started to send the nigga a message, but then I stopped. I would be damned if another nigga took my wife. I blamed myself for not being there on tour with her. For now, I was going to give her ass the silent treatment for a little while, until I figured out how I was going to address this problem.
34
LUXURY
She Created a Beast
We left LA and went home. For two days, I didn’t say shit to her. My mama had always said that if I didn’t have nothing nice to say, I should say nothing at all
. It got to the point where she didn’t say anything to me, either. No “Good morning.” No “What’s the matter?” Nothing. She had an attitude, and so did I. I knew everything was coming to a head, but I had no idea how big this pop was about to be.
As soon as we got home, she left and came back with that all-white Range Rover, claiming she had bought it as a gift for herself. She thought a nigga was stupid. She lied so effortlessly, as if my feelings didn’t mean shit to her anymore. I could’ve easily exposed her, but I held it all inside.
E called a little later and said that Desire had an appearance at Square Eights that night. Desire hadn’t even told me. Did she not want me to go? As she got dressed, I spoke up.
“You wasn’t going to tell me you had an appearance tonight? I had to hear it from E?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at me. “You haven’t been speaking to me, so I didn’t think you cared.”
“I’m going. You riding with me.”
She rolled her eyes but replied, “Fine. Whatever.”
I bit my lower lip to stop myself from going crazy on her. There was no way I was going to let my wife go to an appearance in my city without me. I took a shower, got dressed, and we rolled out together. She was decked out in her mink coat.
“Hey, I gotta stop by Lav’s first real quick,” I told her as we drove.
She blew air from her lips and rolled her eyes.
“Hey, lose the attitude. I’m not trying to fuck up your night, so don’t try to fuck up mine.”
Desire didn’t respond as she scrolled through her Snapchat.
When I pulled up to Lavish’s house, I parked in the driveway. I left her in my car and rang the doorbell.
Lavish opened the door with a frown. As soon as I walked in, he knew something was up.
“Hey, bruh. What’s good with you?” he asked.
“Ain’t shit good, bruh. My girl is fuckin’ around on me.”
“What? How you know?”
“First, Charity told me. Then E, and she had me confirm some shit with Meek. It’s like I don’t even know what to do about it. I want to kill her.”