Sex, Secrets and South Beach (12 page)

A Week Later

Y
ou ready to go to work? You haven’t been in
all week. I've been balling since I got the
twins!" Desiree poked her enhanced bustline forward.

"You go ahead. Have fun." Ginger was
stretched out in bed, propped up by dozens of pillows. She had a
notebook and the Bible spread across the bed, and her television
was tuned to the religious station. Desiree inspected the
scene.

"What is going on with you?" Desiree
frowned.

"What do you mean?" Ginger tried to
look innocent, but the act was wasted.

"I mean, you've changed lately, Ginny.
You don't care about making no paper. You don't talk on the phone
or go out. And come on, the Bible Network? Are you
serious?"

"Look, Desi. I meant what I said that
night. I'm done with it all. No more dating, no more dancing. I'm
even going to sell my Web sites. I'm going to live righteous from
now on. No smoking, no drinking, no sex. Desi, I've been born
again." Ginger smiled serenely and grasped Desiree's hands
lightly.

"Uh, okay. Let me tell you what
happened. You got too high. You were probably thinking about that
time I got too high. Your mind just started playing tricks on you,
just like mine did; it was the Ecstasy." Desiree shook her head in
disbelief.

Ginger locked eyes with her. "No, see,
that's where you're wrong. When you got high, everything you said
to me was true. My life is so empty that only Jesus can fill it up.
It's hard to explain, but I know you know exactly what I
mean."

"No, I don't!" Desiree countered. "I
was just high. I don't even remember half the shit I said to you
that night. And so were you. You were high. That's all. I mean,
think about it. You've obviously been doing fine by God. And you're
a good person, that's what counts. If God wasn't down with your
lifestyle, you wouldn't have succeeded. You wouldn't have all this
stuff. You're not just a dancer but a businesswoman. And you would
not have taken me in. I was a total stranger. Evil people don't do
things like that. You're not empty, and all of this Bible reading
and praying isn't going to get you anywhere. Organized religion is
set up to control people. You told me that. It's not gonna pay your
bills. Next thing you know, you'll be giving all your money to some
church!"

"How do you know my success came from
God? The devil is a liar. He'll have you thinking good is bad and
bad is good. Think about it: does God want me to make money by
putting naked women on the Web? I don't believe that and you don't
either. That's just the devil trying to scare you, Desi. He wants
you to believe that all you will ever be able to do to become
wealthy are crooked, shady things. Don't listen to him. You know
you hear Jesus whispering to you to come back to him. The devil
don't love you. Jesus loves you. Hallelujah!" Ginger clapped her
hands together, then closed her eyes in silent prayer. Desiree
squirmed uncomfortably. Who was Ginger to all of a sudden try to
save her soul?

"Whatever. I, unlike you, don't have a
house of my own and a fancy car or businesses. I'm still trying to
get there. So I've got to go to work." Desiree was putting an end
to all the Jesus talk.

"Go ahead. I'm going to pray for you,"
Ginger said, opening her eyes. "I know that you will join me. God's
gonna bless you so abundantly when you just do what he wants you to
do. You're gonna have riches beyond your wildest dreams when you
just give your life to him. That's why he brought us together. I'm
going to help you. But you will come when you're ready, which will
be soon. God won't ignore my prayers." Ginger smiled that moony
smile again and went back to reading her Bible.

Ain't this 'bout a bitch?
Now she wants to get all religious? Please! Looks like I'm gonna
have to find a new crib if she keeps this up,
Desiree thought as she grabbed Ginger's car keys and headed
to Coco's.

It was Tuesday night, and
the club was sure to be
packed with people
coming from the comedy show at the Improv in Coconut Grove. Desiree
knew that the guaranteed g she was going to make would take her
mind off of Ginger. Besides, if Ginger didn't snap out of her
religious fantasy, the money would come in handy when she moved.
Desiree felt sad at the thought of moving. For the first time in so
long, she'd felt she had a home, a family. Now of all things, God
was going to put an end to that. Desiree sighed. This was precisely
the reason she wasn't sure she believed in God anymore. If there
was a God, he wouldn't have let her life be so fucked-up. He
wouldn't have taken away every good thing she'd ever had. Nothing
good ever lasted. Why would this be any different?

Desiree ordered a Long Island iced tea
spiked with blue curacao to ease her mind and quickly began to make
her paper. It was still relatively early, but Coco's had a
nice-sized crowd. By eleven Ginger was the furthest thing from
Desiree's mind. Her garter was stuffed full of hundred-dollar
bills, and she had a nice little buzz going. She noticed the energy
of the club pick up near the door and strolled over to investigate.
At the door was Dirty Dan, a rapper, with his usual entourage of
five hard-core, Dirty South, pimp types. Desiree had danced for Dan
in the past, and he'd always broken her off nicely. She rubbed her
hands in anticipation and headed toward their table as they were
sitting down.

"What up, Dan?" She grinned at him.
She posed and showed off her new rack.

"Damn! Look at you! Your ass been gone
what, a month, and done came back with some titties!" he howled in
his hoarse southern accent.

"You like?" she asked, sticking her
chest in his face.

"I love them shits. You was always
fine, but you that bitch now!" He grinned at her.

"I was always that bitch. You were
just sleepin', that's all."

Desiree removed her top and started
dancing in front of him.

"Shit, you ain't even got to dance.
You got all my money tonight." Dan pulled out a knot of bills and
handed it to her.

"Thank you, baby," she cooed as she
accepted the bills.

That was easy, she thought. Dan licked
his lips at her and narrowed his eyes, which were full of
lust.

"Come on, Desire, roll with me. I got
some more of that for you," he propositioned, nodding at the
money.

"Bet," was all she said. He had forked
over what appeared to be roughly twelve hundred dollars. Desiree
had gotten to the point where all she had to do was thumb through a
money stack for an accurate count. Desiree could feel her dancing
days coming to an end quicker than she had anticipated. And it was
without all that religious hoopla that Ginger was carrying on with.
All she had done was flash her tits and Dirty Dan had relinquished
the ducats with no hesitation. Desiree surmised that Dan was the
perfect target to become a full-time sponsor.

Dirty Dan was from Atlanta and spent
his time divided between there and Miami. He was a rap veteran,
having gotten his start in the late eighties, around the same time
as Luther Campbell and the 2 Live Crew. Both rappers had a similar
style, but what set Dan apart was the fact that he was extremely
handsome - almost too handsome. Dark as midnight, Dan had the silky
dark hair and keen facial features of an East Indian or an
Ethiopian. He was tall, had a nice build, and Desiree estimated him
to be in his early forties, though he still looked to be in his
late twenties. But once he opened his mouth, it was all over. He
had a grill of gold and diamond teeth and the "Duhty Souf" accent
to go with them. Dan made Luke sound like Carlton Banks. But his
vernacular had earned him millions, which he flipped several times
over.

Dan was married; his wife had appeared
in many articles chronicling his self-made rags-to-riches story.
But Desiree didn't care; it made things easier for her. She'd feel
no guilt using him, because he had no business dealing with her in
the first place. He should have been at home in Atlanta with his
wife and kids, not in a Miami strip club. Dan was perfect. By
fucking with Dan as a full-time sponsor, she'd be able to stash
some money and be taken care of while she started her modeling
career. She knew he would bless her with dough, plus he had the
industry connections to make her a star.

Desiree quickly put on her clothes and
met Dan in the parking lot. "You want to take your car back or
leave it here?" he asked her. "We can go out; we can go to my
place. It's whatever you want." He grinned. Desiree wished he would
stop smiling, because the gold teeth were truly fucking her
up.

"You live in Miramar, right?" she
asked him.

"Pembroke Pines. Same thang," he
answered.

"Well, I'm in Miami Lakes, which is on
the way. Let me drop off Ginger's car, and then I'll ride with you.
I want to go to your house," she offered suggestively.

"Shit. It's all good, baby
girl."

"You what?!" Ginger
shrieked at Desiree after she
told her
that she was spending the night at Dirty Dan's.

"What's the big deal?" Desiree asked
as she threw some clothes into an overnight bag.

"He's a smut peddler. He's evil. He's
just going to use you, Desiree. He just wants to put you in porn.
He doesn't care about you. He's just being nice to you so he can
use you and exploit you–"

"And how is that different than how I
met you? I mean, didn't you admit that was the reason you were nice
to me in the beginning? Who the fuck are you to criticize him? Who
the fuck are you to act like you're better than him?"

Ginger looked like she had been
punched in the gut.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Desiree
spat at her bitterly when she couldn't reply. She tossed the keys
to Ginger, her hair over her shoulder, and stormed out of the
house.

D
amn!" was all Desiree could manage to
utter once she stepped into the foyer of Dan's palatial
home.

"Tight, huh?" Dan grinned prideful
with his gleaming gold fronts. "Welcome to the
Pleasuredome."

How corny!
Desiree thought. What kind of pleasure, other
than financial, could Dan offer her? He could probably eat pussy;
but at his age what else could he really be capable of?

"Come on." Dan walked into a kitchen
that made Ginger's look like it belonged in a tenement. He walked
over to a display cooler that showcased fine wines and champagnes
and extracted a bottle of Taittinger's Blanc de Blanc
champagne.

"Everybody talking about Cris like
it's the only champagne around. But this shit is good than a
motherfucker," Dan boasted proudly. "We gonna sip some of this," he
informed her, leading her out sliding glass doors and into his
spacious backyard. The swimming pool was a smaller replica of Hugh
Hefner's infamous pool and grotto at the Playboy
Mansion.

"This is just like that Playboy shit!"
Desiree exclaimed in awe. "Yeah. You should see the one at my
Atlanta crib. I got more land. My shit there is bigger than Hef's!"
Dan puffed up his chest and popped the cork off the champagne
bottle with a flourish. Foam bubbled out from the mouth, and Dan
held the bottle to Desiree's lips. Desiree sipped the foam and
licked the mouth of the bottle suggestively, then grabbed the
bottle from his grasp. She took a large swig.

"That is good," Desiree commented. Dan
reclaimed the bottle and began to guzzle it.

"Strip!" he commanded. "I want to see
your fine ass in my hot tub."

Desiree did as she was told. Peeling
off her clothing slowly, she maintained eye contact with
Dan.

"You are perfect, girl. Them titties
set you off. You should be a star, not strippin' in some
club."

"You the man, Dan. Make it happen,"
Desiree countered suggestively.

"You got talent?" Dan
quipped.

"Put that bottle down, and I'll show
you how much talent I got," Desiree replied, dipping into the
bubbly water of the Jacuzzi. Her breasts sat buoyantly above the
water. Dan quickly removed his clothes and joined Desiree in the
steamy hot tub. Instantly, his hands were all over her.

"Slow your roll!" Desiree teased him
as she caressed his erect penis beneath the foaming warm water.
"We've got all night."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," Dan
moaned as Desiree took a deep breath and disappeared under the
water.

The next morning Dan
greeted Desiree with
breakfast in
bed.

"What did I do to deserve all this?"
she asked him, eyeing the fresh croissants and jam, plate of melon
and strawberries, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Girl, what didn't you do?" Dan
grinned, the morning sun gleaming off his gold teeth. Desiree
giggled at the memory. She had pulled out all the stops the night
before, because she wanted to ensure that Dan would be thoroughly
whipped.

"I still don't know how
you gave me head underwater! That water is pretty hot in there. I
hope it didn't hurt your beautiful face." Dan brushed her cheek as
he set the breakfast tray across Desiree's lap.
Aww, he'd be sweet if he wasn't so country,
Desiree thought.

“
It hurt so good," Desiree
said. "I just wanted to please you, show you how talented I am."
Desiree looked up at him wide-eyed and innocent.

"You got talent, all right!" Dan
guffawed.

"Speaking of talent," Desiree segued,
gauging his reaction carefully, "you know I can rap,
right?"

"Nah, I ain't know. You think you got
lyrical skills, huh?" Dan queried.

"Oh, I know I got skills. You saw for
yourself I have a very talented tongue." Desiree licked her lips
suggestively.

"True dat," Dan agreed, squeezing her
breast as she nibbled on a ripe, juicy strawberry.

"I was thinking, maybe you can help
me. I mean, you're so smart. Everyone knows you're a brilliant
businessman." Desiree stroked his ego before going in for the
kill.

"Well, I am intelligence," he replied,
nearly causing Desiree to choke.

"Yes, you are. And I was thinking you
could take a listen to some of my rhymes. Give me some feedback.
And then maybe–that is, if you think I'm good enough–you could help
me get a deal. Or I could just sign to your label." Desiree fed him
a bite of her strawberry.

"Tell you what, Desire. I like you,
girl. You know I always have. I like you even more, now that I see
what a freak you are. So tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna give
you a shot. If you can't rhyme, we'll get some folks to help you
with that. Cuz one thang's for sho, and two thangs is certain:
Don't no bitch in the industry look as good as you. And image is
everythang. But there's some conditions to this offer." Dan licked
his lips.

"Ooh, Dan, do you mean it?" Desiree
selectively ignored his comment about the conditions. Desiree could
imagine what they were. And Dan hadn't been half bad in the sack,
so she didn't see giving him an occasional blow job or some ass
that big of a deal.

"Yeah, I mean it, but hear me out. I
want you to be available to me at all times. I know you living with
Ginger and everythang, but that's gotta end. I want you to kick it
here. But you can't be throwing no monkey wrench in my shit. I got
a wife, but she don't come here much. If she does, she ain't gonna
say shit cuz she know how I do. I got a couple of other females.
But if you play your cards right, you can be my bottom bitch," Dan
explained.

"Consider it done," Desiree answered.
She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she was going to just up and
leave Ginger, but she was on some old bullshit anyway. As far as
Desiree was concerned, Ginger was a big hypocrite, and who could
trust a hypocrite? At least Dan was up-front about who he was and
what he was about. She'd use him for all he was worth and then get
rid of him. Pump and dump.

"You’re making a huge
mistake, Desi! I want you to
really
reconsider what you're doing," Ginger told Desiree as she loaded
the last of her things into a large moving box.

"Look, Ginger, I've got to do what's
best for me. I love you like a sister, and I appreciate all the
things you've done for me, but I need to move on. You and I are
never going to see eye-to-eye on this God business," Desiree
stated, devoid of emotion. It was all a front, though: moving out
was killing her inside.

"Don't talk like that, Desi. You make
it sound so petty by calling it 'this God business.' This is your
soul we're talking about," Ginger pleaded.

"Exactly! How many times
do I have to go over this with you? It's
my
soul. If I want it to burn in
hell, then so be it." Desiree crossed her arms. Ginger crossed
herself and clutched a strand of rosary beads.

"Desiree, go to school. You can stay
here for free until you finish. Just stop the dancing and the
dating and leave Dan alone. He's a married man. He's a
pornographer. And before you cut me off telling me what kind of
person I used to be, let me tell you that Jesus has wiped my slate
clean. Maybe you can't yet, but I know you know how much I love
you. You want to rap? Fine, rap. But do things yourself. Put out
your own CD. That's how Dan got started. You don't need him. You
already have everything you need, and I guarantee you that if you
ask God for the words, he'll give you a positive, conscious message
to spread through your music. You don't have to settle for being
Dirty Dan's concubine. I'll back you. I may not have Dan's
millions, but I have the money to do something."

"Look, Ginny; I appreciate the offer,
and what you have to say. But you can't force your religion on
someone. God knows my heart just like he knows everyone else's.
When I'm ready to get religion, He'll be the first to know, not
you," Desiree snapped. She carried the box out to the Mercedes C230
that Dan had "given" her, with Ginger on her heels.

"I'm going to continue to pray for
your redemption, Desi," Ginger told her, arms akimbo, her head held
dramatically toward the heavens.

"Pray for your own
redemption, Ginny. That's what this is about. It's all your past
dirt coming to the surface to haunt you. You just can't get clean,
can you? For all the baptism and the washing of your sins in the
blood of the lamb, you just don't feel clean, do you?" Desiree
monitored Ginger's expression and realized she'd hit a nerve. She
continued. "You want to pray for me, because you think that by
bringing me to God, He'll forgive
you
. It doesn't work that way; and
you know it. You've got to make amends with God on your
own."

"Desi, please..." Ginger's eyes
reflected not only sincerity but pain. Desiree couldn't continue
the tough-girl act. She felt her nose running as her eyes filled
with tears. In an unexpected gesture she threw her arms around
Ginger and held her tightly.

"I love you, Ginny. You know I do. And
I'm not trying to hurt you. But just like you had to find your own
way, I have to find mine. Please try and understand. You're the
only real friend I've ever had," Desiree sniffed.

"Don't leave. You don't have to go
through with this. I promise I'll stop trying to force God on you,"
Ginger pleaded.

"We both know that's not true. I
believe that you really want to change your life. And I've got your
back one hundred percent, even if I can't do what you're doing;
even though I don't really understand." Desiree loosened her
embrace to look Ginger in the eyes. "I left the phone number on
your fridge. You can call me, you know."

"I will. Don't you forget about me,
you hear, nena? We're hermanas para siempre. No man will come
between us ever. And, Desi, know that if you ever need me, I don't
care when or why, I'm here for you; no questions asked, no
I-told-you-so's," Ginger promised.

Desiree wiped her tear-streaked face
with the back of her hand and got into the car. She revved the
engine and sped out of the driveway, partly because she knew that
if she stayed any longer, she just might change her mind. Desiree
didn't know what was in store for her. All she knew was that now
was not the time for sentiment. Life was tough, always had been;
but when one door closed, another one always opened.