by Meta Smith
Leilani sized him up. He was very attractive and looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she recognized him from. The Audemars Piguet watch must have cost him over one hundred large easily; but aside from it, he wore no other jewelry. Some girls might think he was broke because he had no ice, but Leilani knew he was just conservative. Her eyes dropped to his shoes. They were from Prada’s newest collection and weren’t even available in stores. She’d seen them in an issue of Maxim. His linen outfit, though casual, was of top quality and excellent cut. It hung off his athletic frame like it was made just for him.
“So do I pass?” he joked, calling her out on her inspection. He twirled in a circle and hit a GQ pose.
“Yes.” Leilani giggled, her anger fading. “Yes, I pass, or yes, I can get you a drink?” “Yes to both,” she said, flirting.
He looked into Leilani’s almond-shaped eyes and flashed a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. His skin was a beautiful smooth butter pecan, and he appeared to be of Hispanic descent. Leilani felt her heart do a little pitty-pat. He wasn’t just attractive, he was fine as hell! Where did she know him from?
“I’m Leilani.” She extended her hand and shook his. It was soft, and he had a fresh manicure.
“It’s nice to meet you, Leilani. You are beautiful. Your accent is so sexy! Can I ask what you are?”
“Can you tell me your name first?” The remark came out a little harsher than intended, but having been called so many names growing up due to her biracial background, she was sometimes a little bit defensive. Leilani softened the remark with a mischievous smile.
“My bad. I’m Sparks. I guess I’m used to people recognizing me,” he told her.
Then Leilani remembered where she recognized him from. He was the CEO of Bentley’s label, Titanium Records. Sparks was Bentley’s older brother and one of hip-hop’s hottest producers, commanding upwards of
$200,000 a track. He even had remixes for Mary J. Blige and Madonna
under his belt. He was one of the most talked-about people in the industry. Leilani felt stupid for not recognizing him at once, even though he was low-key and behind-the-scenes.
“Duh, my bad.” Leilani rolled her eyes.
“Nah, it’s cool. It’s real cool.” He was sick of women throwing themselves at him trying to come up, so Leilani’s ignorance was refreshing. “I’m just kind of in another world right now,” she explained. “But to answer your question, I’m Jamaican. And before you ask, yes, someone in my family is Chinese–my mother.” Leilani ran down the evening’s events to Sparks, but didn’t let on that she had wanted to meet Bentley. She
played the “concerned friend” role like she was worried about Desiree. “Your girl is cool. She’s in good hands. She and Bentley left a little
while ago; he hit me on the two-way,” Sparks reassured her.
“Oh, okay,” Leilani replied. She felt the previous envy begin to disappear and focused her attention on Sparks. He was older than Bentley and had more money; he was the brains of the entire operation. Leilani smiled at the irony of it all. Desiree was the queen of the sack chasers and frowned on Leilani because she wanted to be known for something other than her looks. And Desiree had no problem shitting on her in order to get to Bentley. Yet Leilani was the one that had come up on the money man, not Desiree.
“You know, we’re working together in a few days on Bentley’s shoot. I’m a production assistant.” Leilani sipped her rum and Coke, then twirled the straw suggestively. She wanted to be taken seriously, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be seen as sexy.
“Damn. You look like you should be modeling in it! You are so fine,” Sparks enthused.
“Gee, thanks,” Leilani responded dryly. Was that all he could come up with? She looked like a model?
“I meant it as a compliment. But I’m glad you’re not a model,” Sparks came back quickly.
“What’s wrong with models? I used to be one,” she said. She wanted to see just where his head was at so she would know exactly how to play him.
“Nothing. Models are cool, but you gotta admit that a lot of them’s mental ain’t tight. I’m just trying to say that I’m glad to see that you have a brain to go with your beauty. You seem like the total package, you know. You got a nice style, you carry yourself well, you’re pretty, and you’re smart. You got to have a man. Ain’t no way a dime like you could be single.” Sparks grinned at her. Leilani dug his smile. Plus, she always
loved a compliment.
“Yeah, I am, as a matter of fact,” she replied. He was definitely showing interest and claimed to appreciate a smart woman. This was too good to be true.
“Cool. Then I hope you don’t mind mixing a little pleasure with business. I mean, I hope I don’t have to wait until the video to see you again.” Sparks ran his hand over his closely cropped curls.
“I think that can be arranged.” Leilani grinned, glad that the night was starting to turn around.
DESIREE RUBBED BENTLEY’S HARD-ON AS THEY DROVE THE
few short blocks from Babylon to the Loews Hotel. Desiree adored the Loews; it was so plush. It would be the perfect place for her to put it on Bentley. She couldn’t believe he was hard again so soon after the blow job she’d given him. She could tell from his stamina that they were a perfect sexual match.
“Girl, you gonna make me crash my whip. You makin’ me feel so good!” he groaned as he nearly rear-ended a yellow cab at a stoplight.
Desiree leaned over and let her breasts brush against his arm as she kissed him on the cheek and let her tongue trail down his neck.
“I want to feel you inside of me,” she breathed into his ear, and then stopped to nibble briefly on his earlobe as she continued her ministrations to his throbbing crotch. Bentley abruptly put the car in park, grabbed two handfuls of her hair, and kissed her forcefully. The light changed colors and cars honked and blew, but she and Bentley continued to grope at each other until Desiree finally broke free and gasped for breath.
“Get a room!” a frustrated motorist shouted as he swerved around the car. A carload of teenage girls recognized Bentley and shouted, “We love you!” which made them laugh as they sped off down Collins Avenue.
Moments later they were in the Jacuzzi tub of Bentley’s suite with a bottle of Cristal. They took turns pouring the bubbly, golden liquid over each other and licking it up, then engaged in an hour of unprotected, animalistic sex. Desiree was on such a high from the combination of Cristal and Bentley that she didn’t bother to protest when Bentley climaxed deep inside of her. Hell, she even hoped she’d conceive, because a baby by a baller of Bentley’s stature meant financial security for life.
Bentley kissed Desiree on the forehead and held her as he fell into a deep sleep. It couldn’t be more perfect, Desiree mused contentedly. She
snuggled closer to Bentley, smiling as she closed her eyes, her dreams filled with visions of cribs, car seats, and cash.
CHAPTER 15
D
ESIREE AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING THOROUGHLY satiated. It was like she was still dreaming, waking up next to
Bentley. Or, better yet, it was a dream come true. Desiree watched Bentley as he slumbered. He was so adorable; he looked innocent, the way Desiree imagined he did when he was a child. But he was all man now, and Desiree wanted to experience more of him.
Reaching across the bed and beneath the tangled sheet, she massaged him until he was rock-hard and throbbing. Deftly, she repositioned herself so that she was between his legs, and proceeded to give him another phenomenal blow job. She felt his body stiffen and immediately stopped. He wasn’t about to get off that easy; she had needs to satisfy.
Desiree straddled him, inching down his elongated shaft until she felt his hardness deep within her. She ground her hips against him, drenching him with her wetness. She worked her muscles like a vise as she rode him until they both cried out in pleasure and climaxed together.
“Shit! What a way to start the day!” Bentley grinned, w
iping away the beads of perspiration that had formed across his forehead.
She smiled back. “Good morning, papi.”
They looked into each other’s eyes, grinning; no other words were
necessary. They had a chemistry that was beyond words. They’d both had plenty of sex, but none so explosive or so intense. Bentley kissed her eyelids and forehead and squeezed her tightly. He felt completely at ease, like he could let his guard down with Desiree. And he knew it wasn’t the sex that had him open. It was her. She was special. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but he knew she had something rare, that “it” factor that made her stand out in a crowd.
“Can I order room service? I’m starving,” Desiree inquired, snuggling closer to him.
“You can have whatever you want. I’m gonna go down the hall and holler at Sparks. See what I gotta do today. I hope you ain’t got no plans for your birthday because you’re mine today.”
“I’m all yours,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She lay back languidly on the bed, allowing him full view of her body.
“I like the sound of that,” he said as he reluctantly got out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts. He gave Desiree a peck.
“Order me some cheese eggs, grits, steak, and some hash browns,” he added on his way out the door.
“What do you want to drink?” she called after him, but he’d already gone.
After putting in his order, plus a platter of buttermilk pancakes, a fruit plate, assorted juices, and coffee, she flicked on the TV. As usual there was nothing on. Desiree hated television unless she was on it. She heard her two-way vibrating from inside her tiny handbag and quickly retrieved it to check her messages before Bentley returned. Happy birthday, baby! I love you, I miss you, where are you? the LCD screen read, followed by K.G.’s signature. You don’t want to know, she thought. Deciding to ignore his page, she headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Bentley returned as she stepped out.
“Damn, you fine!” He shook his head at her.
“Nah, that’s you,” she kidded him. “I ordered the food. It should be here any minute,” she said as she wrapped a towel around herself.
Bentley yanked the towel away. “I wanna look at you. You’re so beautiful.”
For the first time in a long time, Desiree blushed. Because for the first time in a long time, it felt like she was loved. K.G. claimed to love her, but it just wasn’t the same; she didn’t love him. But she felt like she was in love with Bentley. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Desiree wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big kiss.
“You’re beautiful,” she told him, smiling. She knew that it was some
corny shit to say but she meant it, and it just kind of slipped out. There was something about Bentley that made her feel like she could really be herself. She felt like she could trust him, even though she’d just met him. They embraced and shared yet another kiss. Usually, Desiree avoided kissing. It was way too personal and intimate. She kissed K.G., but he took care of her, so that was different.
“We’ll never leave this room if you keep that up,” he said, breaking free from her.
“My bad, what do you have to do today?” she asked him. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be married to Bentley.
“We gotta head out to this radio interview at 99Jams around noon, but then we’re free for the day. We can Jet Ski and shit later. Maybe rent some scooters, whatever you want to do.”
“Cool. But, baby, what am I going to wear? It’s not like I can wear this outfit all day,” she said, motioning toward the leather skirt and top that lay in a heap on the floor. “Should I go home and get a change of clothes?” She knew damn well she didn’t want to go home for clothes; she wanted new ones.
“You can go pick something up right quick if you can do it in an hour. I know how ladies are when they shop. You and your girl can go together, but don’t get lost.”
“Me and my girl?” Desiree was confused.
“Yeah, your girl, what’s her name? Leilani. The Jamaican one that looks Chinese. She’s in the room chillin’ with Sparks.”
“What?” Desiree was shocked. Leilani was chillin’ with Sparks? The man was touted as the next Russell Simmons! Leilani always had to try and one-up her. She was such a hater!
“Yeah, ain’t that a trip? Sparks don’t never hook up with nobody. He’s a loner and shit, old nerdy-ass nigga. That’s my brother and I love him, but he’s strange. He thinks on a whole other level. I was starting to wonder if my brother was gay and shit!” he said, laughing.
Desiree laughed along, but she didn’t think that shit was funny at all. “Yeah, that’s a trip.”
Desiree quickly slipped on her clothes and shoes from the night before. She stood before Bentley, hand extended to receive the money for shopping.
“Sparks is gonna give your girl a credit card. That’s how we shop. We write a lot of shit off as business expenses for taxes and shit like that.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see you in an hour.” Desiree was getting sick of the credit card shit. What ever happened to cold hard cash? She kissed him
again, then headed toward Sparks’s room double time. She didn’t want Bentley to see the anger brewing inside of her. Leilani was trying to ease in on her territory, and the lioness that she was, she didn’t like it one bit. When Desiree got to the room, she found Leilani and Sparks with their arms around each other, kissing and whispering and looking all googly-eyed. Something was terribly wrong with that picture. Leilani was wearing the stained white suit from the night before. Desiree cleared her throat loudly. Leilani giggled and turned around holding up an American Express Black card. Oh hell no! That’s the shit you have to be invited to get! How did she come up on that? Desiree fumed internally. She probably don’t even know what that shit is! Desiree was rumbling inside like a volcano as she
coveted the credit card.
“Let’s go shopping!” Leilani squealed, her eyes twinkling. She ran up to Desiree like a schoolgirl and threw her arm around her shoulder.
“I promise we’ll be back in an hour, Johnny!” She blew Sparks a kiss, and he caught it in the air. Desiree swore she must have stepped into some kind of parallel universe. What was this shit? Who the fuck was Johnny? And why were they catching and throwing invisible kisses like they were in the fucking third grade? As soon as they were out of earshot, Desiree confronted Leilani.
“Yo, what the fuck is going on, Leilani?” she snapped, yanking Leilani’s arm from her shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Dez?” Leilani asked, eyes innocent.
“What’s the matter, Dez?” Desiree mocked her. “What are you doing here with Sparks?”
“The same thing you’re doing with Bentley. Why are you bugging out?”
“You always talking all that shit about being respected for your brain. Talking down on me cuz I still model and cuz I let niggas take care of me. You always actin’ like I’m a gold digger, but if I am, so are you.”
“First of all, maybe that’s your low self-esteem talking, because I never look down on you, or anybody else, for that matter.”
“Whatever!” Desiree threw her palm up to Leilani’s face.
“Maybe you feel bad about how you’re living, and that’s just your guilty conscience talking. But for your information, me and Johnny didn’t do anything last night except for talk and kiss, after you disappeared without even bothering to say good night. After you straight up igged me to go sweat Bentley. So don’t even trip.”
“You’re just trying to be me,” Desiree fumed.
“Be you? Don’t even get me started on why that statement is wrong on so many levels.”
“Oh, come on! You wish you still had this body; getting a little thick there, aren’t we? You wish you were still in front of the camera, not behind it. You wish a star like Bentley wanted you.” Dez glared at Leilani, her eyes nearly black with anger.
“From what I hear, Bentley wants someone new in every town. But
he especially wants his girl back in New York. Why don’t you ask your boy about that?”
“Fuck you, Lani. You just hatin’. You’re just tryin’ to get me shook.
Don’t worry about me and Bentley.”
‘’And you don’t worry about me and Sparks.” Leilani shook her head and started to walk away. Suddenly, she turned on her heels to face Desiree. ‘’And why should I hate on you? I thought we were friends, but you proved me dead wrong last night when you were acting flaw. And as far as Bentley being a star, you’re right, he is a big star. But Sparks signs Bentley’s checks. Marinate on that, little girl.” Leilani strode off ahead of her.
“Yeah, whatever,” Desiree replied. There was really no other answer she could come up with. Sparks was the CEO of Titanium Records. Bentley was fine, he had money, he had fame and maybe even a girlfriend, if there was any truth to what Leilani had said. Sparks had both those things–money and fame–plus an additional one: power. Sure, Bentley possessed power onstage and in videos: his image sold records, products, and a lifestyle. But Sparks had the power to make things happen, to control an empire and even the media and entertainment industries. It was becoming more obvious every day that “pop culture” and “hip-hop culture” were merging. Sparks had control. And he wanted Leilani. Something was definitely wrong with that picture.