Sex, Secrets and South Beach (19 page)

When he and Bentley finally
got in the Hummer,
Sparks suggested they
go get something to eat and discuss the changes that would need to
be made at the video shoot so they rolled out to Monty's on the
Beach for stone crabs while listening to Desiree's demo on the CD
player. Desiree could tell by the expression on Leilani's and
Bentley’s faces that her shit was hot.

"We can't have you be like another one
of the models in this video. I know you got cast in the lead and
shit, but unless you want people to think you're a puppet you’re
going to have to take one for the team," Sparks told them while
pounding a stone crab claw with a wooden mallet.

"I hear you," Desiree agreed, though
she had really been looking forward to her role. She picked
nervously over a shrimp Caesar salad.

"But what I have in mind is you doing
an a cappella freestyle at the beginning and end of the video. When
we edit, we can give the audience a teaser to your first release.
What do you think, B?"

Bentley was busy grubbing on a steak
and lobster combo.

"I trust you, Sparks. That shit could
be real hot if we do it right. Everybody will be trying to hear
what my baby got to say," Bentley squeezed Desiree's thigh, and she
felt a chill run down her spine.

Sparks turned to Leilani. "Lani, you
know that Hype and me are directing this. But you wanna be second
A.D.?"

"Of course. Are you kidding?" Leilani
nearly spilled her water at the news.

"Cool. It'll be your responsibility to
make sure that Desiree looks her very best. Make sure her lighting
is real good to emphasize her beauty. And why don't you call the
stylist and make sure that she has some shit that really stands
out? Not too sexy, because we want people to hear her, but sexy
enough so that they won't be able to take their eyes off of her.
The number is in my two-way." Leilani was happy about the
promotion, but couldn't believe that she was going to have to cater
so Desiree. It was like she was Desiree's do-girl.

Desiree smiled smugly and
sipped on a glass of iced tea.
Your title
may have changed, but you're still a P.A.,
she thought.

"Sure, Johnny," Leilani
agreed, and went to work. It was official. She
hated
Desiree.

Sparks got on his cell with his
lawyers and had them draw up a simple three-album deal for Desiree.
He assured her that he wouldn't dick her when it came to her points
and royalties, but just in case, Desiree told him that she'd have
her own lawyer look over the paperwork. Desiree had many corporate
connections from her days as a dancer and had learned a thing or
two about the industry while she was with Dan. She decided that she
would always have someone strictly in her corner to protect her
interests, even though she'd have to pay a pretty penny of her own
money to do so.

Desiree thought about how
proud Ginger would be if she knew the direction her life was about
to go in.
Maybe
.
Ginger was so caught up in her religion that she thought everything
was evil. Desiree missed her sister-friend but resisted the urge to
call. That was a lifetime ago, and Ginger probably wouldn't talk to
her anyway. Chicks like Leilani and Ysenia thought they were so
smart and had their shit so together, but they were ignorant
peasants compared to Ginger. Desiree figured she'd never have a
real friend again once her face was really out there. Everyone
would just want a piece of her fame.

Desiree needed to go back to her house
to get ready for the shoot the next day. Bentley insisted on coming
with her, which Desiree didn't mind at all. At least he wouldn't be
out with some other female, and she'd be able to get to the bottom
of Leilani's allegations. They stopped off at a small market near
her apartment so she could pick up a few things, and arrived at her
place as the sunset was streaking the sky in crimson
gashes.

"It's so fucking pretty here." Bentley
admired the lush courtyard surrounding the swimming pool that was
in the center of Desiree's 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.