by Meta Smith
complex. “Your crib looks like Melrose Place,” he teased.
“Yeah, I know. That’s what I love about it.” Desiree laughed, knowing it sounded goofy.
Desiree fixed Bentley a drink from the liquor cart in her living room and encouraged him to relax and get comfortable while she changed clothes. She adjourned to her room to take a quick shower and changed into a pink Baby Phat sweat suit. Desiree examined herself in the mirror. She wanted to look good for Bentley, but she didn’t want it to seem like she was trying too hard. She decided to swoop her damp hair into a high ponytail and slick on some soft pink Lipglass and call it a day.
Desiree smiled at her reflection. Was she glowing? She certainly felt like it. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud buzzing noise, which she identified as her pager. She checked the screen: Where are you? Call me. I love you. K.G. again? She’d give him some story later, but for now she was going to focus on Bentley. She turned the pager to silent, as well as her cell phone, so there’d be no further interruptions, then headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Bentley watched in awe as Desiree chopped plantains, seasoned chicken, and boiled rice like it was second nature.
“Did your mom teach you how to cook?” he asked.
“Yeah. She’s dead, though,” she lied. Desiree knew that saying her mom was dead usually kept people from asking too many questions because it made them uncomfortable. Besides, it wasn’t a total lie. Her mother was dead to her.
“Mine too. Both my parents are dead. It’s just me and Sparks.”
“I know what that’s like. I’m an orphan too. I’m sorry.” Desiree gave him a warm smile.
“Me too.” He smiled back.
Desiree heaped piles of food on his plate but had no appetite herself. Beaming with pride, she watched as he ate every bite. She knew that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and once he was good and comfortable, she’d pry him for information.
“Damn, girl, you can burn! This was so good.” He smacked his lips as he pushed his plate away.
“You liked it?” she asked as she cleared the table.
“Hell yeah! You’re a keeper. You’re fine as hell, and you can cook. Plus, you can flow. Shit, you perfect,” he said.
“You say that to your girl up top too? Is she a keeper?” Desiree smiled at him seductively and used her Marilyn Monroe voice to make sure it came out soft and not accusatory.
“Ain’t got no girl up top. I did for a minute, though, but that’s dead,” he explained.
‘’And buried?”
“Nothing but a skeleton,” he joked back.
“Well, keep that skeleton out of your closet, okay baby? I told you I don’t like to share. And I don’t like to be lied to.” She looked at him with doe eyes. Who could hurt someone with a face like that? But beneath all the innocence of her whispers and smiles, Desiree knew that she had plenty of skeletons she never intended to let out. And she lied so well she forgot when she was doing it.
“Let’s get this straight, okay, because we’re gonna be together a lot,” Bentley said. “Business is business, us is us. You gonna hear a lot of shit about me doing this and that, the press is gonna have me linked up with this one and the next one. But it’s about me and you. Like my boy Common said, ‘It don’t take a whole day for me to recognize sunshine.’ I knew you were gonna be mine when I saw you in a video. I just had no idea then that you would be as bomb as you are. Like I said, baby, you’re perfect.”
“Okay. I believe you, baby,” Desiree told him, and she did.
Later on that night they made love, slow and tender. It was a far cry from the unbridled passion they had before. Desiree showered him with kisses as she clung to him.
“Do you love me, baby?” he asked, catching her off guard as they lay tangled in each other’s arms.
She laughed nervously. “What would make you ask me that?”
“Just answer the question,” Bentley persisted.
“Yes. I never loved anybody before. But I love you,” she admitted, her voice cracking.
“I love you too, baby girl. It’s not just because you’re pretty and shit either. You’re smart. I can tell you been through a lot, but now you’re on top. I recognize that. I respect that. You’re like me. This shit is crazy as hell, but I love you. I been in love with you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Desiree had been waiting for so long to hear those words from someone she felt the same way about. K.G. and all her other sponsors were in love with an image. They didn’t care about her, who she was inside. They just wanted her to shut up and look pretty. Someone had finally seen her, the tomboy, the outcast; they’d seen past the Desiree she built, and they loved the Desiree she was. At least as much of the real her as she would reveal. She didn’t bother to stop the tears from rolling down her face.
CHAPTER 16
D
ESIREE COMMANDED THE MODELS’ TRAILER AS IF SHE were the queen of Sheba. It had been too late to get her own trailer;
Desiree suspected that was Leilani’s doing but let that shit go because she intended to let everyone on the set know that she was no longer just a model. She was a fucking artist! As soon as she stepped aboard, she ordered that all the models head toward the back of the trailer or wait outside because she was going to need the front half for herself. She demanded extra-special treatment and was in full diva mode.
She insisted that the best stylist immediately drop what she was doing and take care of her. That was not a problem. But then she required that her curls be blown straight and flat-ironed, a job that was going to take nearly an hour. Dez didn’t care. Bentley had said she could have the world, and she was starting the takeover right then and there.
After all, there was a model on the set with hair like hers, and she refused to go on camera looking like someone else, especially some girl who was clearly beneath her. She had a record deal; she was supposed to stand out, not blend in with the other girls. When the stylist radioed Leilani to complain, Bentley grabbed her walkie-talkie and insisted that Desiree have what she wanted. If the video ran behind, so be it. Dez was his girl and a new artist; she had an image to uphold.
Desiree knew that Leilani was probably ready to shit her pants. She
probably thought that since she had fucked her way into the assistant director’s chair (because she definitely didn’t believe that shit about her and Sparks not doing it), she’d be able to control her. Leilani thought she had been the one to come up, that she was the one who was making strides in the industry. Wrong!
Next, Desiree insulted the makeup artist so badly that she walked off the set. It took nearly an hour to calm her down, but she refused to work on Desiree unless she could “rearrange that bitch’s face.” Desiree was unfazed. It wasn’t her fault that the makeup artist didn’t know what she was doing. Desiree knew exactly what colors looked right on her, and she wasn’t going to let some amateur make her look like a clown in her debut as an artist. Once again Leilani was called to squash the beef. Reluctantly, she went into the model’s trailer.
“What’s the problem, Dez?”
“That silly-ass makeup artist is the problem. She tried to put C6 foundation on me. I know my MAC. I’m clearly an NC45. I just went on and did the shit myself. At least one of us knows what we’re doing. She would have ruined the whole shoot,” Desiree told her crossly.
“Okay, Dez, I feel you. But you can’t go around insulting people. She’s union. You don’t want to start trouble for Bentley, do you?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No. But I’m an artist now. Talent, as y’all call it. I deserve to look as good as I can. Anyway, I’m helping you out.” Desiree inspected her makeup job in the mirror. She’d done an excellent job without a makeup artist.
“Helping me?” Leilani looked offended.
“You don’t want to waste film, do you? You don’t want your big break to go from sugar to shit, do you? You don’t want to look like an amateur in front of Sparks, do you? It�
��s your job to make sure I look good. We may be a little behind, but at least you won’t have to dump any footage. At least you won’t look like a novice who couldn’t even manage to make sure the makeup artist could handle her responsibilities.” Leilani and Desiree locked eyes.
“Fine, Desiree. Have it your way. Just know this. The diva attitude isn’t going to get you very far. You’ve got a deal, but you ain’t even recorded a single yet. You haven’t even done a cameo. You’re not a star yet. You’re still just a video girl; it’s not going to be an easy image for you to shake. Please believe it.” Leilani stormed out of the trailer.
“Hater!” Dez mumbled under her breath.
BENTLEY AND HIS ENTOURAGE PASSED A BLUNT STUFFED
with hydro around the trailer as they waited to be prepped for the video shoot. The smoke created a visible haze in the luxurious RV. Fresh, the company’s stylist, coughed as he entered the vehicle, fanning and swatting the air around him.
“Y’all gonna have the gear smelling all fucked up! Crack a window or something!” he sputtered while rushing over to the rack that held the shoot’s wardrobe. The crew cracked up laughing.
“Nigga, it’s a video! Motherfuckas can’t smell shit!” Bentley joked. Sparks stepped onto the bus.
“Damn! How can y’all breathe out this motherfucka?!”
He grimaced as the pungent odor of chronic hit his nostrils. His eyes zeroed in on an empty cigar box. “I know your ass ain’t been smoking out of my Cohibas!” Sparks snapped.
“Yo, man. I’ll get you some more,” Bentley promised.
“Dude, them shits is contraband. Do you know what I paid for those? They illegal! Yo’ ass is gonna swim to Cuba right fucking now and get me some more ‘gars! Fuck Castro’s ass!” Sparks exploded, heading for Bentley. Several of his homeboys held him back, laughing the whole time.
“See, what I tell y’all motherfuckas? I told y’all his ass was gonna squawk like a bitch,” Bentley roared. “Nigga, I got your shit right here.” He grinned and pulled a small stash of Cohibas from his pocket and returned them to their box.
“They better not be all dried up and broken neither!” Sparks sulked, arranging his clothes. Bentley, always the practical joker, continued to laugh.
There was a knock at the door. Sparks opened it, and instantly, his scowl turned into a smile. There Leilani stood, casual but pretty in navy- blue yoga pants, a white tank top with skinny straps that bared her midriff, her waist-length hair pulled into a ponytail that spilled out the back of a Yankees cap. She held a clipboard, and attached to her hip was a walkie-talkie.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he greeted her.
“Hey, Johnny. Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked him. “In private?”
“Sure.”
They exited the trailer and stood near a craft-service truck.
“First, before you tell me anything, give me a kiss.” Sparks nibbled on Leilani’s lower lip until she thought she would pass out.
Leilani finally pushed him away. “That’s enough, baby,” she admonished him. “I’ve gotta talk to you about Dez.” Leilani spat Desiree’s moniker with contempt.
“What about her?”
“She’s buggin’. She’s acting like the sun rises and sets on her ass, and it’s causing the crew a lot of stress.”
“Look, she’s got a lot of pressure on her. She’s been in a lot of videos, but never as anything but a model. The transition is gonna be rough on her, and she’s probably nervous.”
“Ha!” Leilani cackled.
“Come on. Relax. Everything’s gonna be cool. You’ll see. Besides, that’s your friend. If anyone can help her, it’s you.”
“Hmm,” Leilani replied, holding her tongue.
“That is your friend, right?” Sparks looked into Leilani’s eyes with confusion.
“She’s just been trippin’ since she met your brother. She’s acting real new.”
“Y’all will be all right.” Women are so petty! he thought to himself, slightly
amused. Sparks bussed her cheek and left her standing there holding the clipboard and a powder keg of anger inside.
“BE CAREFUL IN THERE!” LEILANI WARNED YSENIA AS THEY
crossed paths. Ysenia was on her way into the trailer. Leilani had promoted Ysenia to the lead role that had been Desiree’s in order to provoke her. But considering how the day was going so far, she was beginning to wonder if that had been such a good idea. Desiree was already being impossible; when she caught wind of Ysenia, she was likely to have a conniption.
“Let me guess,” Ysenia said. “Desiree?”
“You got it, mami.” Leilani put her hands on her hips.
“I can see her now. She’s walking her fat ass around the trailer like she’s goddamned Jennifer Lopez just because she fucks with Bentley. And what is this I’m hearing? Now the bitch is supposed to have a record deal?” Ysenia didn’t bother to mask her envy.
“Yeah, can you believe it? But, girl, he’ll use her up and throw her away. I guarantee it. That’s what you do with trash!”
Ysenia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Damn. You still mad at her?”
“You don’t know the half of it. She’s gotten worse since the party. And now that she’s supposedly the next big thing, she is really feeling herself. She’s acting like someone died and made her queen over some new dick, and we’ve been cool for almost two years!”
“I still can’t believe how overnight her ass got a record deal and her and Bentley are what, a couple now?” Ysenia ran her hands through her hair.
“They claim they’re in love! I heard them telling each other they love each other!”
“Oh, get real. That’s game, and Desiree is falling for it. I always thought she was smarter than that, but I guess I was wrong! Shit, I bet you Bentley wouldn’t fuck with her ass if he knew how she really is!” she seethed. Ysenia was furious that he could have overlooked her the night of the platinum party to kick it with a skank like Desiree.
Leilani raised an eyebrow at the comment.
“Come on. Don’t act like you haven’t heard!” Ysenia cackled. “She’s not that bad. Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Leilani defended Desiree out of habit, not sincerity. She was mad at Desiree, but she also hadn’t forgotten how Ysenia had ruined her suit. That shit was unforgivable. Now Ysenia thought they were friends or something, but she was just a pawn. Besides, Ysenia was no saint. Leilani had heard a tale or two about her.
“Don’t be naïve,” Ysenia replied patronizingly.
“I’m not naïve. Men do the same shit she does all the time. I’m not saying she’s an angel. I’m pissed as hell at the bitch. I just don’t think she’s done all the things people say she has. I would know. I’m probably the closest person to her; at least I was before all this recent shit,” Leilani explained.
Ysenia shook her head in disbelief. “Trust me, Leilani, she’s done it all and then some.” Ysenia smacked her lips and continued. “It’s like the Geto Boys said, you gotta let a ho be a ho. Say what you want, but someone ought to tell Bentley he can’t turn that trick into a housewife. He sure can’t turn her into no rapper.” Ysenia rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. Leilani rolled her eyes too, but not in response to Ysenia’s comment. It was in response to Ysenia’s over-the-top actions, the drama that she seemed to add to everything she said and everything she did.
“I’m not even in that. That shit is a nightmare.” Leilani couldn’t decide who irritated her more, but she knew she wanted to drop the subject of Desiree altogether. Somehow things always went back to her. Leilani was directing a video, and all people were focusing on was Desiree. Most of
them hadn’t even heard her flow. It just went to show how blind people were, how they would buy just about anything if it was packaged nicely enough.
“Ooh and I see you doing your thang, Miss Director! Look at you, chica. And if I’m not mistaken, I see you’ve got you a man too.” Ysenia went on a fishing expedition, anxious f
or a tidbit of gossip. She was in a very provocative mood, it was obvious. She was the type of woman always caught up in some form of drama. She thought it was cute. She also thought it was “acting black,” blinded by the gum-snapping, neck-rolling, wig-snatching, loudmouthed hoochies she saw on Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones.
“We’re just friends,” Leilani said, blushing. She wasn’t about to tell Ysenia all of her business. Besides, she didn’t want the reputation that Desiree had.
“Oh. Well, all I have to say is that Desiree better not fuck with me. I’m not like all these other chicks here. I will put that ho in her place!”
“Yeah, well, I gotta go. I’ve got work to do,” Leilani said, cutting her off. She’d had enough of Desiree and Ysenia. Ysenia watched Leilani walk away. She folded her arms.