A Street Girl Named Desire: A Novel (22 page)

Desire tapped the boot box in the shopping bag she'd brought, which contained the money, and said, “Yeah. You got the pictures?”

He eventually looked up, but instead of looking in Desire's face, he ogled her breasts. Once again there was silence. While he stared hungrily at her breasts, Desire noticed his hand slip under the table. His eyes began to flutter, and his mouth began to quiver. Desire was unmoved as she watched slobs of spit formulate and drip down his turkeylike chin. When he was done, he took the table napkin and wiped his hands.

“Give it to me,” he growled.

“Like I said”—Desire looked into his beady red eyes—“show me the pictures.”

He reached inside his overcoat and pulled out a long yellow envelope. “Don't even think about running off without payment,
sweet tits. I have backups.” He eased open his overcoat and showed her another yellow envelope, and smiled.

Desire looked over her shoulder and then proceeded to rip open the package. She instantly recognized the three men involved, a once well-known rapper and two of his boys. She recalled the night, almost four years ago, when she was taken to the Marriott Marquis Hotel, in Midtown Manhattan. They must have arranged to have someone in the closet, because the dude who was hitting it from behind was looking into the camera with a wicked smile on his face and waving.

Desire looked up at the Camera Man, who was enjoying every moment of her discomfort.

“How do I know these pictures won't turn up again?”

“They won't… at least not from me,” he growled. “Listen, this is what I do, how I make my living. People come to me with explicit pictures and I buy, sort of like an investment. Do you know how many strippers wind up marrying entertainers and celebrities, or how many actresses, singers, rappers, started off as slutty strippers? Then one day, the person gets famous, and my investment just grew into a great return. Sound familiar? Hell, if you got enough money, I can dig up dirt on anybody, anywhere. But for you, my dear, I'm willing to do it for an even exchange any day.

“I hope you charged them boys plenty, because by the look on their faces they were enjoying every hole on your body.” He broke out in roaring laughter, and his belly and neck shook like Jell-O.

When Desire retrieved the money from the boot box, she pushed it toward him. He then gave her the second yellow envelope. As he began stuffing the money inside his coat pocket, Desire
snatched a stack out of his hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Desire leaned back in her chair as she put the money in her purse. “I hope you enjoyed the nut you just busted, cause my services don't come free either.”

“Damn, girl, I like your style.” He lifted the napkin he'd wiped off with and said, “Judging from how sticky this rag is, it was worth it.”

Disgusted, Desire got up and walked out the restaurant and to her car. There was something else that had brought her to Brooklyn today. Desire had been thinking about Tiah a lot. No one had heard from her since that day in CBR's boardroom. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. The only connection anyone had to her was a voice that came on the radio occasionally. Desire wanted to search some of their old haunts in an effort to find her sister. She wasn't planning on inviting her back to the group. She just wanted to know she was okay. As Desire walked toward her car, she noticed what looked like a parking ticket on her windshield. As she got closer, she realized it was a note attached to her windshield wipers. She pulled it from underneath one of the wipers. “Turn around!” yelled a voice from behind her. It was her old boyfriend, Lil Dollar.

Desire hadn't seen him since he beat her up. She had heard he'd been searching for a record deal ever since. Lil Dollar eventually fought Whip in court, and lost. Desire noticed that he no longer wore the expensive jewelry that he had become famous for. Even though he had on a fresh pair of white Uptowns, a nice sweatsuit and a small platinum chain and cross, he looked pretty
average compared to how he used to look. She was even happier that she had decided to wear a tight-fitting Donna Karan dress and sexy Jimmy Choo slingbacks that day Dollar could see firsthand that he hadn't brought her down. She was doing better without him.

Desire flinched as Dollar gave her a hug and told her that he missed her. She couldn't say the same. “I recognized the Lexus while I was walking by and decided to wait for you.”

“Yeah, Whip gave it to me,” Desire said, wondering how many others he had promised fame and a Lexus to before snatching both away, passing the Lexus—and sometimes the fame—on to someone else. She was shocked to see Dollar, and was not at all happy about it. She still could feel where he had hit her that day.

“So how you been?” Lil Dollar continued, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Busy,” Desire replied blankly “You know how it is.”

“I hear that. But what you doing in Brooklyn, Desire?”

She wasn't about to confess that she was searching for Tiah. She wanted Dollar to think everything was all good.

“Oh, I was checking out these shoes at the mall, but they ain't got my size.”

He nodded, his eyes traveling up and down her body. “You still looking good, ma. You want to—?”

Desire cut him off. “Dollar, listen, I got to be somewhere in a lil while, so 'mma go.”

He shook his head. “Aiight, give me your number and I'll call you later.”

She couldn't believe his nerve. He had beat her mercilessly, then dumped her things onto the street. And now that she was on top and he had slipped, he thought he could weasel his way back into her life. Well, he wasn't about to hop on her moving train.

“Dollar, I don't think so,” Desire said. “Me and you really ain't got shit to talk about, not after that day.”

She clicked the alarm on the Lexus. Dollar grabbed her arm.

“Yo, I just remembered,” Dollar said, interrupting her. “I saw your sister, Tiah, out in Bed-Stuy.”

Desire tried to hide her interest in what Dollar had to say, and get information at the same time. “So? All her brothers live out here. She be out here all the time.”

He put his head down. “Not for nothing, yo, but your sister is out here smokin crazacks like a motherfucker. She's selling her ass and everything.”

Seeing she was affected by what he had said, Dollar continued. “Yo, if you want me to take you up to where I saw her, I will.”

Desire shook her head. With the new pictures Dollar had painted in her head, the idea of reunting with Tiah lost its flavor. She couldn't think about saving Tiah when she had to set up her own future. “Naw, that's okay. And listen, I really have to go now. I'll talk to you later.”

Dollar was furious. His old colors started to show.

“So it's like that now, Desire, huh?”

“Yeah, nigga, it's like that.” Desire had decided that she had no more time to waste. She eased into her Lexus and prepared to take off. When Dollar started to talk mess, she jumped out of the car anyway.

“I should have known you wasn't gonna be nothing but a fakeass
bitch,” he told her. “You got you a little shine and now you don't know a nigga. In fact, I bet I see your grandmother more than you do.”

“Oh, please,” Desire shouted. She got up in his face. He couldn't beat her down in the middle of Nostrand Avenue in Bed-Stuy. “I stood by your ass all those times I caught you fuckin all them bootleg bitches. I stayed with you every time your black ass was in and out of jail. So don't even try it, I did enough for your ass.”

“What the fuck? If it wasn't for me, your stank ass would probably still be selling pussy and stripping in the Bronx. I made you who the fuck you are today, so you should get down on your motherfucking knees every fucking day, thanking me, you fuckin unappreciative bitch!”

Desire hopped into her car. She decided that she was above arguing with him. Lil Dollar ran to the driver's side and pleaded, “Desire … I didn't mean what I said. It's just that I still love you, and—”

“Motherfucka, you can wipe my ass with that bullshit,” Desire told him, putting the keys in the ignition. “Did you love my ass when you was wiping your floor with my face? Just do me a favor and act like you never knew me, nigga! Next time you see my ass, you betta be asking for an autograph!”

Desire put the car in gear and sped out, leaving him standing in the street.

In the months since Tiah had been ejected from the group, Desire had fallen fast and hard for someone Whip introduced her to:
his best friend, Sterling Rivers, the NBA's poster boy for success. In the league for only five years, he had already won four championship titles, three MVPs, and was scoring champ for two years in a row.

Desire had never met a man like Sterling. He didn't smoke, drink, or swear. And to her surprise, he didn't believe in sex before marriage. He and his family were strict Christians and he'd been raised to live according to God's law. He and Desire spoke daily, and they spent many nights in each other's arms, talking about the Bible.

When Desire met his parents, who'd been married for thirty-three years, they embraced her as if she were their own daughter. She'd never seen a family that was so close. They did everything together—eat, pray—and they even had the house with the picket fence, and a dog named Spot. Desire felt she had truly hit the jackpot. She was the hottest chick in the game, with the hottest guy on her arm. She was going to have everything she ever dreamed of.

Desire and Chanel had never gotten along. Recently, they had begun to fight even more. Worse, the only thing keeping Desire, Cream, and Dream in the public eye was their image, not their music. Even though the girls had sensational voices, Tiah's absence had meant that they couldn't shoot the videos that were crucial to a music artist's success. Without a video, their songs were not favored by the DJs. The songs that everyone responded to the most were ones that had videos to go with them. “Harlem Girl Lost” had long ago fallen off the charts and been replaced by
new hits. Desire's sexy image—plastered inside schoolboys' lockers, on teenagers' walls and on posters sold on the street by vendors—had become the primary reason for their continued success, rather than their music.

But on this night, Desire had Sterling by her side as she, along with Chanel and Whip, were celebrating the fact that their album had made the
JET
magazine Top 20. They were at a VIP party in Atlanta, with plans to leave for New York the next day. The music was booming loudly. A call from Hattie Mae came on Chanel's cell and Desire excused herself from the group. Someone had gotten word to Desire, through Chanel's people, that Hattie Mae was desperately looking for her. She placed her hand to her ear to drown out the noise. It had been so long since Hattie Mae and Desire had spoken, Desire barely recognized her own grandmother's voice.

“What did you say, Grandma, I didn't hear you.” Desire had just assumed that her grandmother wanted to congratulate her on their accomplishment of being featured in
JET
. When a person made it in between the covers
of JET
, they had arrived. Hattie Mae was elated to finally speak with Desire. After checking to make sure Desire was okay, Hattie Mae began to talk about herself.

Speaking louder, Hattie Mae said, “I said I don't feel well.”

Desire took a breath and asked: “What's wrong, Grandma?” Hearing Hattie Mae's voice on the phone was comforting. Desire was always surrounded by people, yet she always felt hopelessly alone. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to run back to her small twin-sized bed in the Harlem apartment she, Tiah and Hattie Mae had shared. But she was a long way from home.

“I don't know,” Hattie Mae sighed. “I just don't feel good 'bout a lot of things.”

“Grandma, why don't you go to the doctor if you feel sick?”

“I don't know. I'm just so worried 'bout Tiah these days, you know. She come by the house here sometimes. I know she got kicked out of y all group.”

“She got herself kicked out, Grandma,” Desire corrected. “Tiah had a lot of chances. She just didn't want 'em.”

“I tried to get her to go to a program, but she never showed up for me to take her.”

Desire frowned. “Grandma, you gotta stop worrying so much about Tiah. She's grown now. And stop letting her in the house. All she'll do is steal and beg you for money.”