by Mink, Meesha
“One of the other guests had mentioned you were in the lobby and then I remembered Goldie told me to have your name added to the list. I am so sorry,” he kept saying.
“No problem,” I told him as the elevator opened and we stepped into a nice-ass loft filled with people. I recognized video directors, some athletes and celebrities, bloggers, and magazine journalists. Kanye West played in the background and everything was casual as hell. A definite hip-hop soiree.
Ryan handed me a cocktail. “This place is nice. Show me around,” I told him.
He did. But I didn’t hear most of the bullshit details he told me as we walked around the loft. I didn’t give a flying fuck in a monkey’s ass about who designed what, who made what chair, which model was posing in this or that photo for this or that urban fashion designer.
“Now this is the little studio we have for test shots of wannabes, because you know everybody who think they cute ain’t, and sometimes it takes a photo to make shit picture-clear, baby,” he said, pulling back a heavy leather curtain.
I looked up at him. He reminded me of Michel. I missed him and Eve; I knew they was having a ball at Club Infinite. I was stuck at this bullshit.
“Y’all have everything here. Even offices? I bet yours is decked out, right?” I asked. Fuck the dumb shit. Show me what I need.
“Girl, I don’t have an office. My little desk is in the front,” he said, leading me back toward the front of the loft, where most of the partygoers were talking and chilling.
“Goldie doesn’t have an office here?” I asked.
“No, actually. She will continue to work from home most days, and when she is here, she uses the photo studio,” he said.
And this booking agency wasn’t a fucking front. Bitch, please.
“Where you two wandering off to?”
We both turned at Goldie standing at the end of the hall. She leaned against the wall in a white strapless jumpsuit.
“Ryan was giving me a tour,” I said, sipping from my drink.
“Well, y’all missing the party out here,” she said, pointing her thumb in the direction opposite from us.
We walked back down the hall to join her. “Ryan, the models are posing for group photos for the press. Keep it organized for me. You know they asses is wild,” she said before she walked away.
I frowned. I felt fucking dismissed and I didn’t know if Ryan’s happy ass knew it but he got dismissed too.
I followed him over to the area where the models were trying to outdo each other in the group photo. I didn’t spot Shani. “Is this everybody?” I asked.
“Just about, except for the one that just up and quit a few weeks ago,” he said.
Shani?
“What lit a fire under her?” I asked, pushing him.
“Lord, she found Oreo jungle love with some old white politician, chile,” Ryan said before he moved over closer to watch the models.
I didn’t say shit else. I heard enough. I knew enough.
Goldie didn’t have files there and Shani hauled ass on me and Goldie. I was ready to bounce. Goodbye, corny-ass, bougie-ass industry party. Hello, Club Infinite.
14
The next month flew by. I couldn’t lie, but the bitch had me busy as hell working. I did photo shoots for Baby Phat and Apple Bottoms, booked three urban fashion shows, and flew to Puerto Rico for a video shoot as the female lead.
The money was good. And I even liked the work.
But don’t get shit twisted. I didn’t forget the bull’s-eye I had on that bitch’s back. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to and I didn’t. I remember promising myself that I would make her pay. Not for Make$. It wasn’t about that.
It was her disloyalty.
And I admit that because I looked up to that bitch. I admired that ho. I really thought I could count on her. I trusted her to go on the road with Make$. I used to cry and complain and moan and groan to her about the shit he did to me. I used to go to her for advice. I used to call her on the road and ask her to go check on his no-good ass. When I found out she wasn’t what I built her ass up to be, it really pissed me off.
Loyalty was everything to me.
I didn’t have any choice but to make her pay.
As far as I was concerned, it was out of my hands. She lit the fuse. And there was no going back.
I still didn’t know what I would do with the proof once I had it, but I wanted it. It was important to the big plan. I wanted it and I was going to get it.
“Hi stranger.”
I looked up as I walked into my apartment, pulling my rolling carry-on behind me. Michel and Eve were sitting on the couch looking at TV. They both had keys to my apartment, but I hadn’t seen them in a good month—if not longer.
“Hey y’all,” I said, taking off my shades and closing the front door.
“Hey y’all,” Michel mimicked, sounding mighty damn testy.
They turned the TV off and stood up.
I screwed up my face and stopped. “Am I about to get jumped?” I joked with a laugh.
“You need your ass beat,” Eve said, crossing her arms over her small chest.
“Sure do. You so happy to be sniffing up Goldie’s ass that you just fucking threw us away like a bloody tampon,” Michel snapped, his voice sounding deeper than I ever heard it.
“Yessss,” Eve agreed.
“Fuck is this? An intervention?” I snapped, kicking off my shoes and plopping down onto the sofa.
“You cracking jokes and shit and we dead damn serious,” Eve snapped.
I looked up at her and her face was pissed off. I shifted my eyes to Michel. These mofos was dead damn serious. I covered my eyes with my hands.
“Y’all, I haven’t forgotten the two of you. I haven’t given up Yummy Entertainment. Trust me. Everything I’m doing is for a reason,” I told them. “I don’t give a fuck about Goldie. The modeling. The videos. None of that.”
“What?” Michel asked, sitting down and crossing his legs in the skinny jeans he wore.
“Listen, you know what she did to me, and it’s best to have your friends close and your enemies closer,” I told them, leaving it at that.
Eve sucked air between her teeth and grabbed her keys and purse. “Whatever, Luscious. You trippin,’” she said.
I leaned back. “Really? All of that?” I asked, feeling myself get angry.
“Yes? And?” Eve snapped back.
I stood up.
Michel stood between us, his pretty hands up in the air. “Chill, y’all.”
“Oh, you flexing at me? You need to whup Goldie’s fucking ass instead of fucking working and partying with that ho,” Eve yelled.
“Get the fuck out my house yelling like that, Eve,” I said, fighting the urge to mush her in her fucking face. “Get the fuck outta here with that all drama. Man, please.”
“You ain’t said nothing but a motherfuckin’ word, cuz,” Eve said, stalking over to the door to snatch it open.
I closed my eyes when she slammed it.
BAM!
I dropped back down onto the sofa. “Tell your girl to keep that ghetto bullshit out my building.”
Michel made a face. “My rent ain’t but two fifty, but I don’t want nobody slamming doors in my building either, Luscious,” he said, sounding offended.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Michel,” I said.
He relaxed. “I know. Just like I know this and I hope you listen to me because I mean you well. But mind that same hole you digging for Goldie don’t be the one you fall in.”
I looked over at him, just as beautiful as he could be as if he was born a girl. I shook my head. “Trust me, I got this,” I said.
“Okay, if you say so. But you ain’t been the same since you got arrested that night, Luscious. You never talk about it. Explain it. Nothing. You just act like it never happened. Like our crazy asses ain’t here to listen to you.”
I didn’t say shit. What could I say? It damn sure wasn’t going to be the truth.
Thinking of it now, I got a headache. It was a lot. Too much. Way too fucking much to share. To talk about. To think about.
“I’m good.” I stood up and grabbed my carry-on to unpack.
Michel look disappointed in me as he grabbed his tote. “I’ll calm Eve down. We just worried about you,” he said.
“Let me get a nap and we can all go eat later. Okay?” I said, getting down on my knees as I unzipped the carry-on.
“You call us,” he said and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, my cell phone rang. I reached for my bag and got it out. It was Goldie. I rolled my eyes. These days I hardly spoke to her unless she was calling me about a booking.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Luscious. How was the video shoot?”
“It was good.”
“I’m having a quick meeting with everybody at my apartment in an hour. I know you just got off the plane, but can you get here?”
My heart stopped. I was ready to get the fuck out of Goldie’s world and back into mine. My friends. Even my family. The sooner I got proof, the sooner I could get back to my life.
“No problem,” I said, rising to my feet.
She gave me the address but I didn’t need it. After I hung up, I thought about Michel and Eve and I missed my “girls.”
Maybe, just maybe, if I didn’t get any closer to this shit I would just let it go and beat the bitch’s ass real good.
Stepping into Goldie’s Upper East Side apartment was like seeing Twelve50 on megasteroids or some shit. There was no denying that everything about the building said money. Major money.
Just how much pussy was that bitch slinging? Damn.
I tried not to look around the place like a crackhead scoping the joint as I stepped on the elevator designated just for the four penthouse apartments. As it rolled to an easy stop, I pressed my hands against the sides of my linen shorts and smoothed the stark white tank I wore over my wide hips. The doors opened and I stepped off, my heels beating against the marble floor as I searched for penthouse apartment P4.
I was just about to use the brass door knocker when the door opened.
“Has?” I said, stepping back at the sight of him. Still tall. Still wild and sexy. Still laidback. Still Has.
What the fuck?
His eyes got big as shit to see me. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door. “What the fuck are you doing here, Luscious?” he asked, touching my elbow.
I jerked away from his touch and looked up at him with eyes filled with all kinds of confusion and questions. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He leaned back against the wall and covered his face with his hands. “Listen . . . me and Goldie ran into each other about nine months ago and we talked things out and—”
Boom. He wasn’t my man, but damn if it didn’t feel like another fucking hard knock for me and another goddamn win for Goldie.
“Yo, me and Goldie live together,” he added.
A gut punch on top of the backhand pimp slap. Fuck it.
“Do she know me and you was fucking?” I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest as I forced that motherfucker to meet my eyes and then stared him down. Hard.
Has shook his head and licked his mouth. “Yo, look, I knew Goldie first, Luscious. You know that.”
“But you fucked me first.” I pointed my finger into his chest.
“And I was wrong. We was wrong, Luscious.”
I looked at him, standing there in his cargo shorts and Timbs with a wife-beater. Has looked so out of place on the Upper East Side. But this was his home. His home with Goldie.
“Are you gonna tell her?” he asked.
I shrugged and walked into the apartment, giving him one last resentful look over my shoulder. I barely took in the decoration or the apartment as I made my way toward the voices. I didn’t need to, anyway. I had full photo layout of this bitch courtesy of Shani the Snitch.
“Okay, good, Luscious is here,” Goldie said.
I gave everybody a fake smile and squeezed onto the leather sofa in between Nivea, a blasian chick who had done videos with everybody from Jay-Z to Aerosmith, and Frenchie, a thick white chick who looked like the twin of Ice T’s wife, Coco. I wondered just how many of the twenty or so people spread out over the living room was tricking for Goldie. Shani said not everybody was in on it.
“Okay, I had good news and I wanted to share it with everybody at the same time,” Goldie said, looking laid-back in white palazzo pants and an off-the-shoulder peasant top. Her eyes shifted toward the entrance to the living room and I knew without looking around that Has’s traitor ass had come back into the apartment. Goldie smiled over our heads at him.
He probably scared as shit that I was gonna put our shit on blast.
Hell, I was the one started it and finished it, but I can’t lie. I did not want Goldie and Has together. It was another damn check in the “win” column for this scandalous bitch.
So what, now this nigga was laid-back like the king of dicks comparing our pussies—like Make$. Ugh. I dug my fingers into my own knees.
“Come on, baby,” Goldie said, holding out her hand. “I thought you was headed out, but since you here, we can do this together.”
I didn’t turn around, but when Has came up to stand next to Goldie, I felt one of my acrylic tips break away from the nail bed from me digging in so hard. I bent my head to make the aviator shades I had on top of my head fall down and land on my nose. I locked my eyes on Has and I didn’t miss the way his eyes kept shifting to me. All nervous and suspect and shit.
“So, last night Has and I got engaged,” Goldie announced.
Everyone screamed out in excitement and jumped up to see the ring she was holding up. I knew I had to get up and fake the funk or that shit would seem like I was hating. I came up and smiled. I couldn’t bring myself to hug the bitch. “Congrats, girl,” I said.
“That’s right, Luscious never met him. This is Has. You know, that Has?”
Yes, bitch, I know that Has. Real well. From the top of his head to the tip of his big dick.
“Nice to meet you, Has,” I said.
He didn’t say shit, but give me a homeboy head nod. What the fuck ever, Has.
I checked out her ring. Three carats easily. If not four. Has was working at some warehouse last I heard. Almost getting caught up in that counterfeit ring and barely beating Fed charges had him get up on the good foot and get a job. So no shade, baby-boo, but I did not believe he brought that ring. Just like his ass wasn’t putting in much on that high-ass Upper East side rent.
Okay, I was hating. But fuck Has. He was supposed to be my ride-or-die in the Fuck Goldie campaign and now he was fucking that bitch literally.
While everybody was oohing and aahing over that ring, I moved close to her assistant Ryan. “Where’s the bathroom?” I asked him.
“Right down the hall. Third door on your left.”
“Thanks.” I headed for the hall. I opened every door in that motherfucker until I found her office. It was the second door on the left.
“What you up to, Luscious?”
I made a face at the sound of Has’s deep voice behind me before I turned around. “Looking for the bathroom. Why you watching me so hard? Aren’t you engaged?”
He just pointed to third door on the left.
Damn, Has fucked me all up. Goldie had to have some records in that office. Phone numbers. List of clients. Tracking of the money. Billing. Something. Shit.
I mean-mugged his ass before I walked into the guest bathroom. It didn’t do shit but piss me off even more since it was as big as my kitchen and decorated
nicer than my parents’ whole house.
I stayed in there for a minute, hoping Has’s ass was gone and I could get in that office. When I finally opened the door the hall was clear but I tried the rest of the doors they all were locked.
Has wasn’t stupid. Game always recognize game.
I went back in the living room. Has was standing out on the balcony smoking, and everyone else, including Ryan, was sitting already, still fawning over Goldie. I wanted to leave, but I sat my ass right on down and eased my back against her comfy couch while I listened to her retell about her romantic wedding proposal on the balcony. All the while I got a kick out of reminding myself in vivid detail that I had fucked her fiancé first. And fucked him well, too.
Has sucking my clit.
Has nutting all over my titties and then playing in it with the tip of his dick.
Has sucking my titties while I rode his dick down.
Has telling me how good my pussy was.
Has fucking the valley of my titties while I sucked his dick.
Oh, we used to get stupid. And knowing Goldie and Make$ wouldn’t like it made that shit even better.
“We’ll probably just elope to the Bahamas or something,” Goldie was saying. “Neither one of us got a lot of family, so it will just be the two of us and our best friends.”
“You talking about Yummy?” someone asked. “She still in South Carolina?”
Goldie had told me about her best friend, Yummy, getting strung out on drugs by her boyfriend, and then when she had a stroke while getting high, the dude left Yummy alone in their apartment. Her mother eventually moved her and her kids down South. Back when me and Goldie were tight, I knew she always sent them money.
Goldie nodded. “I was just down to see her a couple of weeks ago. She walks with a cane but she can talk a little better now.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
I shoved the rest of their conversation out of my mind. I had other shit to focus on. I looked out at Has on the balcony. That nigga’s profile against the New York backdrop looked like a sexy-ass Sean John ad.
Then I remembered I had finally transferred all the contacts of my BlackBerry to my new phone. Smiling, I scrolled through, and sure enough, there it was. Now, did he have the same cell phone number?