Secret Society (3 page)

O was taking pictures with some broad on his lap. And this girl was kissing all on his neck. He was just smiling and being real disrespectful. I tapped Tina on her shoulder.

“This nigga is tryna play me,” I said with an attitude.

Tina looked in the direction of my eyes and saw O acting a fool. She snapped as if he was her man instead of mine.

“Oh, hell, no, go over there and check that nigga and that bitch!”

“He knows I’m the fuck here. Why would he do some stupid shit like that?”

Tina hopped off the stool and grabbed my hand. “Come on. This nigga playin’ his self,” she said as she led me through the crowd.

“What the fuck is the deal?” Tina snapped at O.

O had a confused look on his face. I guess he was wondering why Tina came at him like she did when he wasn’t her man.

I stepped in. “O, can I holla at you for a minute?”

O got up from the chair and moved the girl to the side.

“What’s wrong, baby?” the girl asked.

“Nothin’, just give me a minute,” O responded.

I was pissed off.

“What’s up?” O asked as he walked toward me.

He put his arm around my waist and slowly walked me a few steps away from the girl and Tina. I had a blank look on my face and was speechless at first. I was about to flip out on that nigga, but I told myself to be easy.

“O, please don’t act like you wasn’t just disrespectin’ me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the jealous type, but damn, all that was unnecessary. You can do whatever you want on your own time, but when I’m in your presence, you’re on my time. You feel me?”

O put on that confused face again. “What are you talking about, baby?” he asked.

His eyes were glassy. He seemed real disoriented. He was pissing me off even more by acting nonchalant.

“Is everything okay?” the girl came behind O and asked.

Tina followed her and responded for O. “Everything is just fine,” Tina said.

The girl rolled her eyes. “O, is everything okay?” she asked, placing emphasis on his name.

“Bitch, I said everything is fine. O is talking to his girl right now!” Tina yelled.

“I’ll show you a bitch, bitch!” the girl shot back, walking over to Tina.

O was still acting nonchalant like everything was everything. But I wasn’t about to let Tina embarrass herself for no cheap-ass whore. I stood in front of Tina and started pushing her out of the club. Meanwhile, O disappeared again and the girl was steady screaming shit. You fat bitch this, you fat bitch that. And Tina was screaming back, “I got more money than ya bum ass!” That night was crazy.

“Celess I’m sorry. I was feelin’ it,” O tried to explain.

“Well, you need to leave whatever that shit was alone, ’cause it had you lookin’ slow and shit.”

“Yeah, that E will do that to you. You forgive me, sweetheart?”

“You owe me for this one,” I said.

“Come through and I’ll make it up to you.”

It had been a week since the incident at the club, and this was the first time I was hearing from O. He was about to be cashed in. I was losing love for him. He had me at my point where I was ready to juice him dry and then cut him off. I had suspected he put another girl in my place and bumped me to number two or something. I couldn’t understand why he was frontin’ on me like that, but it was really making me not care anymore.

I told O I would come through, but instead, I went to get my hair done. The shop was empty, being as it was a Tuesday afternoon. My bull Steve did my hair for me. And when Steve did my hair it was an all-day affair because he would spend more time gossiping than actually doing my hair.

“Those shoes are cute,” Steve commented on my Chanel boots.

“You like ’em?” I asked for no reason at all.

“Yeah, they hot. My girl would look good in them.”

Steve was an ITCH—an in the closet homo. He always talked about a girl who nobody ever seen. But that particular afternoon he indirectly came out.

“Yo, how do you do it?” he whispered.

“What?” I asked.

“Walk in those heels.”

I thought Steve was going to ask how I got away with being a woman. I was sure he knew. But maybe he didn’t.

“I’m used to it,” I said.

“This guy I know, he’s gay and he’s gonna start dressing up like a chick and get a sex change, the whole nine, but he said he don’t know how the hell he gonna walk in heels,” Steve said, laughing.

Bingo, I thought. Steve had to be gay. Anytime a man uses the word
gay
instead of
faggot
to describe a gay man, that’s a sign that he himself is gay. Besides, he did hair. Damn, it’s a lot of us out here, I thought. But I didn’t say anything. I just listened to Steve tell all his business and everybody else’s business.

Ring! Ring!

“Hello,” I answered my cell phone.

“Where the hell you at?” O asked.

“I just left the hairdresser,” I said.

“You a nut for telling me you was coming down here,” he said. “I might as well go shoot dice,” he continued.

I knew what that meant. He had money to spend, and I didn’t want to miss out on that.

“I’m on my way, damn, can I get cute first?” I whined.

“You could have called a nigga.”

“My bad. I’ll be there in like a half,” I said.

I pulled up to O’s house twenty minutes later. Ninety-five was empty. As soon as I walked in, he grabbed me and started kissing me. He started stripping me. I stopped him from removing important articles of clothing, but he was persistent.

“Who you been giving my pussy to?”

“Nobody,” I said, trying to control his hands.

“Then why you haven’t been giving it to me?”

“Boy, you been trippin’ since you got back from Baltimore. What were they feedin’ you down there?”

“It’s not what they been feedin’ me, it’s what they haven’t been feedin’ me. I’m lacking pussy. Can you feed me some pussy?”

I grabbed his hand just in time to stop him from grabbing my balls. O never acted like this before. Usually I took charge and he just followed my lead. What the hell he was doing I didn’t know, but it was bound to get me killed. I had to think of something quick.

“My period is on,” I blurted out.

O stopped kissing me.

“Damn!” he said. “Thanks for blowin’ my high.”

He sat down on the couch and patted his dick as if he was trying to calm it down. I sat down next to him, trying to keep a distance. He grabbed my hand and put it on his penis.

“Pull it out,” he said.

I did. I stroked it for him. He started getting into it, and he grabbed my head and forced it down on his dick. I sucked it. What the hell, I figured I owed him that much for not having a pussy he could eat.

I left O’s house with $500. This was the icing on the cake. I knew for sure he had somebody else. Five hundred dollars meant he was giving half of my money to another girl. I was pissed about it but I let it slide. He obviously had his reasons for playing me. I went home and called it a day. I put on
Two Can Play That Game
and fell back.

I
evaluated my situation. I had lost James and I was in the process of losing O. Tariq was the only one I had a grip on. Tariq was still paying my mortgage, but I needed another James to pay my other bills. O was still lookin’ out on my wardrobe and pocket money, but it was nowhere near what I used to get from him. I needed to make a comeback. Tina was getting bored too. White Derrek would wire her money ever’ so often and this Puerto Rican hustler named Jahuan from down the badlands was taking her out and would buy her some shoes here and there, but that wasn’t enough. We took a trip up New York to go to a fight and met some guys just in time for Valentine’s Day. Tina put me down with boxers. She used to mess with one back before her and I met, and she told me all about the kind of money some of them make.

The fight was interesting. I’d never been to a live boxing match before then. We went to the after-party at the Pierre on Fifth Avenue, which was where the meeting and greeting began. This brown-skinned bony dude came over to Tina and me and told us that his friend wanted to holla. We were prepared to tell bull to get lost, but when we saw that his friend was Christopher Talley, the super middleweight champion of the world, we were like all right.

“What are yall drinking?” Chris asked.

“Apple martini.” It was Tina’s favorite drink.

“A peach schnapps,” I said.

“Good fight,” Tina said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

Chris looked like he could have been cute if it wasn’t for the missing teeth and permanent scars that came with boxing. But he was dressed nice, and it was obvious he had money. Tina wound up with him, and I settled for another fighter, Shawn, who was from the same camp as Chris. We all ate and drank and then headed up to a hotel room. After I went down on Shawn and Tina did God knows what with Chris, we all exchanged numbers and started dealing with each other regular. I even spent Valentine’s Day with Shawn at his house in Brooklyn. That pissed O off.

“How the fuck you goin’ spend Valentine’s Day with some other nigga?” O screamed in the phone.

“When you decided to have somethin’ on the side,” I responded.

“So, you fuckin’ this nigga?” O asked, as if I had already admitted it to him.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m into,” I said, being real for the first time in our so-called relationship.

I was tired of O’s recent bullshit. We both had ulterior motives, shit.

“Fuck you, bitch!” he said right before he banged on me.

I wasn’t mad, though. Actually, I couldn’t have cared less. Shit, it was time for O to take what he dished. I was moving on. And I guess that’s exactly what it took to bring O back to reality, because his ass started paying me a lot more attention after he found out I was messin’ with somebody else. He called me more and wanted more of my time. I gave it to him only because he was closer and more convenient than Shawn, who traveled a lot.

Meanwhile, Tina and I were making all kinds of plans for All-Star weekend. It was so convenient that it was in Philly that year. We went down South Street and had some things made. I ordered a baby pink leather suit with white stripes going down the side of the legs and arms like the Adidas sweat suits. The shirt hung off the shoulders. It was hot. I bought a baby pink Kangol to go with it. Tina ordered the Iverson jersey with the red leather sleeves and the red leather ties on the sides. It was hot too. She paid $349 for that shirt. She bought some Frankie B. jeans from down Charlie’s in Old City and some hot red Miu Miu boots to go with it. That was just for the game, though. We still had to buy outfits for the other parties. I bought a J Lo jeans outfit that had tan ties up the legs and the jacket. Bought tan Chanel boots, a tan knitted Chanel bag, and a tan knitted Chanel hat to match. Hats and things that tied up were hot shit that year. Tina did a winter white leather Dolce & Gabbana miniskirt, a winter white boat-neck sweater, and some winter white D&G knee boots.

The Friday before the game we went to an invite-only in Atlantic City. There were a lot of upscale people there and a few losers who probably worked in the mail room and got the hookup on some invitations. Tina and I almost fainted when we saw Morris Chestnut sitting in a booth. We kept our cool, though. We basically spent that night drinking and mingling. This guy approached me while Tina was dancing with somebody.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” I responded.

I was trying to be nice even though I already knew I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. He was so corny it was sad. He had on some slacks and a dress shirt. The top button of his shirt was open, revealing a gold herringbone chain. He was wearing what looked like a high school class ring on his pinky finger. And to top things off he had a part in the middle of his low haircut.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Celess,” I answered.

I decided to play with dude a little before taking the knife to his throat.

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“Jared,” he replied.

“What do you do, Jared?”

“I play the flute. What about you?”

“I play men,” I said firmly.

He just grinned.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” he said, and walked away.

I figured he would do that. Tina came over to me just in time for me to tell her about the clown who had just approached me, but she beat me to the punch.

“How about I’m dancing with the bull, giving him the butt and everything. So we talking and I’m probing him. I asked him what kind of car did he drive. He talking about a Cavalier with twenties and an Alpine stereo—”

“A souped-up Chevy,” I butted in.

“Basically,” Tina continued. “Then I asked him if he had a house. He talking about he’s the man of the house. Guess who the women of the house were!”

“His wife and daughter?” I asked, playing the guessing game with her.

“No! His mom and his grandmom!” Tina said, bursting out into laughter.

“Well, dude I was just talking to plays the flute,” I said.

“Get the fuck outta here,” she said, still laughing.

We figured we would have better luck meeting some real niggas at the All-Star game.

The First Union Center was packed. The parking lots all looked full. Thank God Tina and me rented a stretch Hummer. If we would have drove we would have spent the whole game looking for parking. When we pulled up to the entrance and stepped out the car, all eyes were on us. Bitches were waiting to see some niggas hop out behind us, and when that didn’t happen, they were hatin’. It was written all over their faces. They probably were thinkin’, How them bitches get that by themselves?

Inside, the halls were crowded. People were making their way to their seats. The concession lines were long, and of course posted along the walls were lines of guys and girls, all dressed in their flyest shit. There were furs, diamonds, and designer labels galore.

“Pink Sweat Suit,” a familiar voice called out.

I turned around. It was Tariq. What is he doing here? I thought. This wasn’t his type of crowd. I smiled and walked over to him. Tina followed.

“What’s up?” I greeted him with a hug.

“Long time no see,” he responded playfully as he held me close.

He looked like a regular dude that day instead of a nerd like usual. He had on some baggy jeans that draped over a pair of fresh tan Tims, or butters as I called them. He had on an off-white long john shirt and a fitted cap that matched the Tims. My intentions were to flirt with him briefly and then go on about my business, but Tariq acted like he didn’t want to let me go.

“Where you been?” Tariq asked, still holding on to my waist.

“I been around,” I responded as I gazed at the people passing by. I avoided eye contact with Tariq, as I was trying to see it all, not wanting to miss a beat.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He wanted to press the issue.

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me after tonight, babe,” I said with a smile as I kissed him on his cheek. I was trying to keep the conversation short so Tina and I could continue to see and be seen.

“What are you doing after this?” he asked.

At the time I didn’t have any definite plans for after the game, but I was sure I would make some and they wouldn’t include being with Tariq. Not that there was anything wrong with him, I mean he was paying my mortgage. It was just that I was in the mood for something different, something new.

“I’m not sure just yet. Tina’ll probably drag me to something,” I told him.

“I want to see you this evening,” Tariq said in a rather demanding tone. “So make sure you call me when you get done being dragged around by Tina.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

I kissed Tariq on his cheek once more and slipped back into the crowd. I made it my business to go all the way to the other side of the building before I started hollerin’ at dudes. I didn’t want Tariq to see me in action. Shit, I didn’t need to give him any excuses to stop paying my house off. Tina and I walked up on these fly dudes. It was three of them. One had on a throwback, some jeans, and some sneaks and a hat that matched the jersey. The second one had on a baby blue mink, a baby blue and white Sean John sweatshirt, some dark blue jeans, and some baby blue, dark blue, and white sneaks. The third one had on a tan long-sleeve T with a picture of Bob Marley on the front, some jeans, and some Tims. His accessories brought out his outfit—an iced-out Breitling, a platinum chain with an icy L, and a pair of studs that had to be at least two carats each.

Throwback was light brown with big hazel eyes that locked on mine and followed my every move. Tina was on Baby Blue Mink, who was dark-skinned and stocky. Iceman was caramel-colored with dimples. I was on him too. I wouldn’t have minded having him and Throwback.

Tina and me stopped in the flow of traffic and walked over to the side to introduce ourselves.

“You might as well put my number in there while you at it,” Tina told the guy with the blue mink on as he was pressing buttons on his two-way sidekick.

“Oh, I’m two steps ahead of you, shawty. What it is?” Blue Mink asked with a heavy southern accent.

Tina recited her cell number. Meanwhile, I started talking to Throwback. We first exchanged names and numbers. Then we had a brief conversation about my outfit and how good I looked in it. After a couple laughs and flirtatious comments, we parted ways. We couldn’t be standing around with niggas for too long because there were too many more ballers that we wanted to get acquainted with.

From what we saw when we weren’t in the hall, the game was pretty good. We had courtside seats too, so that made it even better. We got to see all those fine-ass athletes up close and personal. Kobe Bryant did his thing, despite the crowd’s boos. And A.I. put on a good show too. But I must say, I was more excited to see Michael Jordan play. In his whole career I had not seen him play. It took for him to come out of retirement and be in an All-Star game for me to see him live. But I’m glad I finally got the chance. After the game ended and the MVPs were announced, people flooded the halls once again. Tina and me took our time getting to the exit because we wanted as many people to see us as possible, especially outside when we stepped into the Hummer. Girls were dressed in tight miniskirts and see-through shirts, freezing their asses off for attention, and were pissed off when niggas looked past them to see who the two pretty bitches were gettin’ into the Hummer. Tina and me were crackin’ up. We had the driver turn the radio up real loud, and we had the windows down. We were sipping on Cristal, nasty and all just to see the look on bitches’ faces. Niggas were walking up to the window tryin’ to holla, some were just staring, and others would just shout compliments to us. Overall, we stole the let-out. As you know, the let-out is just as important if not more than the game. It is when you truly see how people are holdin’. Because they can have on all the jewelry in the world, but if their wheels ain’t right, then they really ain’t doin’ it.

While we were making our way out of the parking lot, my cell phone rang. It was a Georgia number. It wasn’t surprising that I got a call from Throwback so quick, being as though him and his squad were from Atlanta and probably would be headed back home the next day. Like most out-of-towners, they were basically lookin’ to get some before they left.

“What’s crackin’, sexy?” Throwback asked me with his heavy southern accent.

“Who is this?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Damien.”

“Oh, Throwback, Blue Mink, and Iceman from Atlanta. What’s up?”

He chuckled. “Damn, you on ya job, ain’t you?”

“Basically,” I replied.

“Well, don’t worry, shawty, ’cause me and my boys ain’t finnin’ to rape nobody so you won’t be needin’ to give up no descriptions, ya heard.”

“Oh, that’s the least of my worries, trust me. Besides, those descriptions are for my records, not for no cops,” I said.

He chuckled again and said, “You cute as you wanna be, you know that? I’m feelin’ ya style, though.”

Then he popped the question. “What are yall gettin’ into tonight?”

“That all depends on what yall are gettin’ into.”