Sex, Secrets and South Beach (21 page)

Desiree immediately stepped to Ysenia.
"Bitch, don't fuck with me."

"I don't know what you're talking
about," Ysenia said, grinning.

"Baby, why don't you go relax, okay?"
Bentley told Dez, letting go of Ysenia's hand and taking Dez's in
his. "This won't take long. I love you," he told her softly before
kissing her, but not so softly that Ysenia didn't hear. Ysenia
nearly gagged on her envy.

"I love you too," Dez replied loudly,
then rolled her eyes at Ysenia and stormed off to the trailer. At
least she would have it all to herself, since everyone else was on
the set. She decided to freshen up, reapply her sunscreen, and take
a little nap. It was over ninety degrees, and she could feel her
skin beginning to tingle, although she wasn't so sure that it was
from the sun.

They broke for lunch around noon,
about seven hours into what was sure to be a very long day. Desiree
exited the trailer as the models from the shoot were coming in.
Ysenia bumped into her hard, then stood back with her hands on her
hips.

"I don't know what your fucking beef
is, but you need to check yourself. You don't wanna see me," Dez
warned, her cat eyes narrowed into slits.

"Whatever. You don't wanna see me,
bitch."

"Bitch? I got your bitch right here."
Desiree lunged at Ysenia but didn't have much room to maneuver. A
few of the other models stepped between them.

"You must be forgetting who I am,
bitch. Your ass is done," Desiree growled, and stormed
off.

She contemplated going to Hype and
having Ysenia booted from the video, but took a deep breath and
decided to go for a walk on the beach. She'd work on some lyrics
and relax for an hour while everyone else was too busy eating to
disturb her. She had to get her mind right and stay focused. Ysenia
had no power over her. She was a nobody.

Ysenia waited patiently as
she sat in her Range
Rover, the
air-conditioning on full blast. She bobbed her head to the P. Diddy
CD playing in the sound system. She was a major fan of Diddy's, as
well as a frequent face at the lavish parties he often held when he
was in town. Ysenia lit a roach and inhaled deeply, being careful
not to muss her lipstick. It wouldn't do to ruin her makeup,
because at the rate things were going, Desiree was going to do her
best to prevent anyone else from getting any shine. But she had
something for that bitch.

Ysenia peeped a Camry with tinted
windows and sitting on chrome pull into the parking lot. She
extinguished the joint. The Camry pulled up next to her, and the
driver's side window rolled down. The boom of Miami bass music
blared into the otherwise silent lot. A handsome, athletically
built young man grinned at her, flashing a row of gold
teeth.

"Nigga, turn that shit down!" she
screamed at her younger brother, Junior. He turned the volume down.
"You are so tacky, nigga!" she snarled, sucking her teeth at
him.

"Whatever, Ysenia, damn!" he said,
sulking. Junior was nineteen and wild, and though he considered
himself a grown man, Ysenia always treated him like a child. Yet
she was only five years older than him. She took care of him,
though, so he mostly put up with her bitching and nagging. Plus,
she had tons of fine friends. It was better than living with their
parents, who were so old-fashioned.

"You got the tape?" she asked, rubbing
her hands together.

"Yeah, I got it." Junior opened the
glove compartment and pulled out a black VHS tape with a
neon-peach-colored label on it. "What you want with this anyway?"
he asked, hesitating before he handed it over.

"That's my business! Just chill and
let me do my thing." She waved him off. He had served his
purpose.

"Whatever," Junior replied
absentmindedly while inspecting his own reflection in the rearview
mirror. He looked up at her. "I'ma come on the set with you all
right," he said matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not. I'm working, this
ain't a club."

"I'm just fucking with you. Do your
thang, girl." He flashed his grill again and pulled out of the lot.
He really didn't care what Ysenia was up to. He knew she would buy
his clothes, keep his pockets tight, and keep a roof over his head,
and how she did it didn't matter. He made sure no grimy niggas
fucked her over in return and looked out for her. It wouldn't do to
have his meal ticket feeding someone else.

Ysenia shook her head and chuckled at
her brother as his car disappeared around a corner. She loved him
to death, so she stayed on his case to keep him out of trouble. She
knew spoiling him and taking care of him wasn't the smartest thing
to do, but she wasn't going to let him get caught up in the
hustling game. Besides, her parents had practically disowned him
because he wouldn't act like some preppy white boy. But Ysenia had
better things to do than sit around laughing at Junior. She was a
woman on a mission.

Ysenia returned to the set and walked
straight to Bentley's trailer. She didn't even bother knocking, she
just barged in. Bentley was chilling with two of his friends, about
to spark an L.

"Bentley, I have to tell you
something." Ysenia spoke slowly and carefully. She didn't want to
have to reveal her hand in front of Bentley's crew. It wouldn't
have the same impact.

"Is that right?" Bentley
asked flirtatiously. His heart was enraptured by Desiree, but
Ysenia
was
fine.

"Yeah," Ysenia continued, strutting
toward him. "This won't take but a second, guys, excuse us." She
tossed her long, dark blond, wavy hair. Fuck it, she was gonna take
charge of the situation. She grabbed Bentley by the hand and pulled
him to the bathroom of the trailer, shutting the door behind them.
The bathroom was small, and they were forced to stand body-to-body.
Ysenia was exactly as tall as Bentley and looked him directly in
the eye.

"You know what, Bentley? You seem like
a classy guy, like you deserve nothing but the best," she murmured,
leaning toward him and letting her body rub against his
seductively. She deftly slipped the tape into his hand. "Peep this
flick and think about whether what you're working with now is the
very best, and then holler at me. Do it now," she continued in a
throaty voice. "Don't hesitate."

Bentley looked at the tape and then at
Ysenia and grinned.

"It must be good," he remarked, then
licked his lips. Ysenia felt herself get wet. Bentley was so
sexy.

"That depends on what you call good."
Ysenia grinned back at Bentley, then kissed him on the cheek. She
didn't want to appear desperate; she just wanted Bentley to know
that she was interested. Ysenia was confident that Bentley would
come to her on his own. "Get at me," she breathed into his ear, and
then exited the bathroom.

All eyes were firmly planted on
Ysenia's backside as she sashayed out the trailer. She threw a
little wiggle into her stroll because she knew they were all
looking.

"Yo, what was that all about?" Scoop,
one of Bentley's homeys, asked, admiring Ysenia's ass, which was
tightly encased in hot pants, as she left the trailer.

"Yo, man, I don't even know," Bentley
responded, looking confused. "She just gave me this tape and told
me to get at her."

"Put that shit in, kid!" Jazzy, his
other crony, jumped up and motioned to the VCR. "It's probably some
old freaky shit. You know how them video hos are!" he
continued.

"But nah, man, that chick is like a
real model. I've seen her in a bunch of magazines and shit. She's
probably seen that Dez got put on, and now she's trying to get a
record deal too or something," Scoop argued.

"That don't mean nothing! Shit! 'Real
models' are freaks too. I'd say like ninety percent of them are
hos. They are the ones that are all off into that dyke shit and
group sex. It's because they're so used to everybody looking at
them and wearing skimpy clothes and stuff. I'm telling you. I bet
she's on that tape buck ass naked, man. Play that shit!" Jazzy
spoke as if he were an expert on the topic of models, but truth be
told, were he not a part of Bentley's entourage, there wasn't a
model alive who'd give him the time of day.

"Well, now I gotta play it! Man, spark
up that L and let's peep this," Bentley said as he popped the tape
into the VCR and settled on the edge of his seat.

The credits rolled, flashing the logo
of a small but well-known Atlanta-based company called Peach
Records. They all knew of the company's founder, Dirty Dan, a
lower-budget version of Luke, who was also a pioneer in bass music,
as well as a champion of free speech. It was obvious that in many
ways he modeled himself after Luther Campbell. Known for his
explicit and by some standards obscene lyrics and stage shows,
Dirty Dan had amassed a street following by recording catchy
call-and-response party anthems with infectious hooks.

He had also gained his
fair share of infamy for his many arrests on obscenity charges.
Bentley and the entourage waited with bated breath for the tape to
start rolling, because they knew there was bound to be some freaky
shit on it. Dirty Dan was a man who liked to push the envelope. Dan
had broadened the scope of his business, venturing into adult
videos featuring a wildly popular reality-based series called
Sinful Strippers, in which he toured the strip dubs of America and
abroad and taped the wildest and raunchiest exotic dancers around.
This particular tape was titled
Sinful
Strippers in Mexico: What Happens in Cancún Stays in Cancún
!
The footage was shot Memorial Day
weekend of 1999 during the festivities of Black Beach
Weekend.

"I knew it was some freak shit!" Jazzy
said with a smirk.

"Damn, is she in a porno?" Bentley
asked of no one in particular.

"I guess Jazzy was right," Scoop
admitted, shaking his head. "Shit, let's see what this freak
got!"

Dirty Dan stood with a microphone on a
small makeshift stage erected in the middle of a sandy white beach.
Bentley fast-forwarded the tape. "I ain't trying to hear that
country, 'Bama-ass nigga stutter and stammer," he
cracked.

"Ayo, stop that shit. You gonna pass
it up, man," Jazzy said eagerly.

Half a dozen young women in T-shirts
and thongs joined Dan on the stage. One by one the girls were
doused with buckets of water until their T-shirts were drenched and
transparent. The last contestant on the stage grabbed her T-shirt
and ripped it off with a flourish, exposing a large pair of
undulating breasts. That last contestant was Desiree.

"Damn! Ain't that your girl?" Scoop
said, all hyped up.

Bentley said nothing, but silenced
Scoop with a motion of his hand. He leaned forward and stroked his
goatee, eyeing the screen intently. He continued to watch in
silence as the contestants followed Desiree's lead and all stripped
down to their skimpy G-strings. The girls gyrated about the stage,
inciting the crowd with their blatantly sexual moves. Throngs of
men salivated and groped at the young women, who began to touch
each other suggestively. Piles and piles of crumpled bills began to
build up around the stage. Dan collected the cash in a plastic
grocery bag.

"Do you wanna see more?" he yelled
into the mic to the horny crowd of men. They replied with a
deafening roar.

"Then flash that cash, brothers!" Dan
screamed. "And remember...what happens in Cancún, stays in Cancún
!"

The dancers, led by Desiree, removed
their thongs. Desiree opened her legs far apart and then swooped to
the ground in a crouching position. Her waxed pubic area gaped
open, exposing her inner lips for the whole world to
see.

Scoop and Jazzy looked at Bentley, who
remained expressionless. He didn't bat an eyelash when Desiree
began to stroke herself, tossing her head back in ecstasy. One
dancer began to lick and suck at Desiree's nipples. The crowd went
bananas. More cash collected on the stage. Dan continued stuffing
the money in the bag, which was now bulging.

Another dancer replaced Desiree's hand
with her face, going down on her with reckless abandon. Desiree's
hips bucked wildly as the girls all licked, sucked, and fingered
any body part within reach. Dan filled a second plastic bag as the
orgy continued. Bentley shut off the tape.