Sex, Secrets and South Beach (24 page)

Dez tried to focus on her work instead
of her pain, but it was hard. Though she was extremely busy, she
couldn't get Bentley out of her mind. Within days of shooting the
video, she was off to New York to begin working on her album and
publicize the remix with Bentley. She was staying with Sparks at
his home in the Hamptons, where he had a complete state-of-the-art
home studio and a helicopter pad. It made everything she'd
previously thought of as the hotness pale in comparison. Dez had
hoped she would be staying in the city, where she could really take
a bite out of the Big Apple, but Sparks wasn't hearing it. He
insisted on total dedication to the project and didn't want her
distracted by the nightlife or his brother.

Sparks also wanted to make sure that
they capitalized on the controversy that had started to swirl
around the label. He'd already orchestrated several brief,
carefully staged casual appearances at a few nightclubs and
restaurants, which had generated a lot of buzz in the media.
Initially, Sparks had tried to keep the news of the Cancún tape as
muted as possible, but Ysenia had other ideas.

When Sparks, Dez, and Dan began
mediation about a settlement regarding the tape and word leaked out
to the press, Ysenia really had a field day. She claimed to have
heard through the grapevine Dez's true age, and stated that she
only showed Bentley the tape to help Dez and not harm her. Ysenia
was crafty, though, Sparks had to admit. She'd obviously hired a
lawyer who was coaching her on how to dance across the fine line of
defamation of character and exploitation of a minor. As long as
Ysenia phrased her wording just so, it was difficult to do much to
stop her from talking about Dez, and Ysenia was a master at
manipulating words. Ysenia was very careful to separate her opinion
from actual fact, and spoke only about Dez the adult, although
technically, the only time Ysenia had had contact with Dez as an
adult was at the video shooting.

Was Dez really a porn star? Was she
sleeping with both brothers? Where had she come from? What was she
really about? Inquiring minds wanted to know. The rumor mill was
spinning out of control, and the media were in a frenzy. Sparks
knew that if he let Dez roam the streets of New York alone, it was
like sending out a sheep amongst the wolves. He didn't want her to
be cornered anywhere by overzealous journalists or paparazzi
without her having first undergone the proper media training.
Sparks knew that Dez wasn't ready for that scenario.

Sparks assured Dez that
under his watchful eye everything would work itself out. He knew
that the only bad press was no press and insisted that all the hype
would make buyers more curious if Dez could just bite the bullet
and deal with it. But that didn't give Dez any comfort. Ysenia was
laughing all the way to the bank,
and
she'd totally fucked up Dez's
relationship with Bentley. What kind of vindication would she ever
receive? Sparks said that Dez's success was the best revenge, but
Dez wanted Ysenia to pay in spades.

Sparks had become like a big brother
to her, and for that she was grateful. But there was a gaping hole
where her heart used to be, and his friendship simply couldn't fill
it. Still, he tried. He couldn't help but notice the sadness in her
pretty brown eyes; he felt helpless to do anything, and it
frustrated him. The more time he spent with Dez, the more he could
see that she was truly a good person. Beyond her hard core and
aloofness, when he got to the real Dez, he saw that she was
energetic and funny. He realized that people never got around to
seeing it, because they were always after her for something. So
she'd built walls around her heart to protect herself. He'd stayed
up many a night wondering what had happened to her; she'd obviously
been hurt, and he was determined to find out what her real story
was.

One night while they were recording in
the studio, Dez couldn't concentrate. She flubbed her lines, and
even forgot some of them, even though she had written them
herself.

"Dez, come out here," Sparks said over
the intercom that piped into the soundproof booth of the recording
studio. Tired and frustrated, she removed her headphones, set them
on a stool, and joined Sparks at the mixing console.

"Yo! What the fuck is the matter,
Dez?" he interrogated her. "You're so off today. Is the shit with
my brother still bothering you? It's been over a month."

"Yeah," she admitted softly. "He acts
like he doesn't even know me. And he said he loved me. I thought
that love meant giving people chances. I guess I fell for the
okeydoke. He never cared about me. He won't even give me a chance
to explain how I came to make that tape." Dez fought hard to
prevent the tears that were welling in her eyes from
falling.

"Look, Dez, that's my brother. I know
he had love for you. Y'all had just met, but I saw how he felt
about you. The problem was that you had to deal with something of
this magnitude before you could build a strong foundation. He still
cares, trust me. But he's not that mature. Me, on the other hand,
I'm Mr. Maturity," Sparks kidded, making a funny face and smoothing
out his School House Rock T-shirt. Dez managed to crack a tiny
smile. "Why don't you tell me? I'm a good listener. Telling someone
will help," Sparks finished, taking her hand in his.

"I don't know," she
started.

"We fam, right?" Sparks
asked her, staring deep into her eyes.
Damn, she is so beautiful. My brother is a fool,
he thought, then felt guilty for thinking it. He
pulled out a cigar and began rolling a blunt in an effort to
distract himself from his thoughts.

"Of course, Sparks. But it's a really
long story. And it's so fucked-up. Right about now you're the only
friend I've got. If I tell you I might lose you. I couldn't bear
that," Dez confided. She grabbed a bottle of cognac from a nearby
table and poured herself a stiff drink.

"You won't lose me. I'm from Harlem.
I've seen it all and done it all. I swear I won't think any
differently of you. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Then tell me. Maybe I can help. Maybe
I can get Bentley to listen to you, or help you explain things," he
offered.

"No!" she responded vehemently. "This
stays between me and you. Swear to me," Dez said,
panicked.

"I put it on everything. I'll take
whatever you tell me to the grave. Here, blaze this, and relax."
Sparks handed her the blunt and she lit it, inhaling
deeply.

"Okay, here goes...It's not like I
thought the shit would never come back to haunt me. I knew that it
would eventually, because what's done in the dark will always come
to light. And Lord knows I had it coming because karma is a
motherfucker. But then again, isn't karma just a bunch of bullshit?
I mean, think of all the babies that die every day that never did
anything to anyone. Did they have it coming to them? Did they
deserve the bad things that happened to them?" Dez
rambled.

"Stop stalling, Dez. I'm not judging
you, remember?" Sparks said firmly.

"Okay, okay. People have all these
ideas in their head about me, who I am, what I'm about. The truth
is that nobody knows me cuz I barely know my own damn self. No one
can say shit to me unless they been through what I've been through.
Nobody else could begin to even understand. I didn't ask for the
cards that I was dealt. I only played the game the best way that I
knew how. I cheated a lot, too, but I had to do what I had to do to
stay in the game, to stay alive. I couldn't just quit. I wasn't
some suburban girl who could call on mommy and daddy whenever I got
in a pinch. I can't control where I was born and how I grew up.
Because if I could, I would have chosen some fly shit, not the
bullshit I had to live through."

"Let me give you some advice, Dez,"
Sparks interrupted. "Don't bend over. You don't have to apologize
with me or with anyone else for who you are. Fearlessly be
yourself. If other people can't see how special you are, if they
can't see past what you've been through to who you are now, then
it's their fault. Not yours. You've gotta stop giving folks a
disclaimer. It's like giving them permission to judge you." He
smiled at her.

Dez felt her heart flutter a bit. He
was so cute, just like his brother. And he seemed to truly care for
her, but then again, so had his brother. The painful memory made
her tense up. Instinctively, Sparks sensed this.

"Look, Dez. Why don't you tell me
about who you are? Who were you before you ran away from home?"
Sparks prodded gently.

"Well," Desiree started cautiously, "I
was a good girl. I got good grades, stayed out of trouble. I had
friends, but mostly, I kind of stuck to myself. My home life was
really fucked-up. My mother was Dominican. My dad was African
American. They met when my mother was in high school, right after
her graduation they got married, and a few months later I came
along." Desiree began to feel herself loosen up, but was uncertain
if it was due to Sparks's caring nature or the cognac.

"My mother's family had a fit, because
my mom could have gone to community college right away, then maybe
gotten a scholarship to a four-year school. She was real smart. But
she had to put that all on hold," Dez explained.

"Do you feel like the reason she
didn't go to school was your fault?" Sparks asked.

"Sometimes . . . sometimes I feel like
the world would be better off if I hadn't been born. Mami wanted to
become a doctor, she used to say so all the time, but couldn't on
account of having me. She used to always talk about how far along
in school she would be if I hadn't been born."

''I'm glad you were born." Sparks
smiled. Desiree smiled back.

"So was my papi. I was Papi's pride
and joy. Papi was a hustler if there ever was one. He did whatever
he had to do to provide for me and Mami. It's not like I remember
it all, but you know, people talk. They say he used to do petty
shit like snatch chains and steal cars, but then his best friend
got killed in a robbery and he just put the shit down. Just like
that. And dig this, he became a garbageman!" Dez
laughed.

"He used to stink to high heaven every
time he came home. I was only like seven when he died, but I do
remember that smell just like it was yesterday. It fucks me up
because I can't walk past a Dumpster without missing my papi." Dez
smiled at the memory.

"Yo, garbagemen make good
money!" Sparks kidded. "Plus, they get first dibs on all the good
stuff people throwaway. I used to watch that TV show
Roc
about that
garbageman."

"You so crazy!" Dez giggled, then
continued with a sigh. "Yeah, Roc was cheap, but Papi was generous.
If I asked for a dollar for some ice cream, he'd break me off with
five instead. He always told me that anything I ever needed in
life, he would provide. I would never have to count on any man but
him for anything until I got married. He constantly told me how
pretty I was and lavished me with toys, stuffed animals, dolls, and
other trinkets. He was the first man to spoil me, and I knew how to
work it. He set the standard for every man I ever thought about
seriously in my life."

"Your father sounds like he was a good
man," Sparks said.

"Yeah, he was a good man. But one
night he took a walk to the little corner store and a car ran him
down and kept on going. It turns out the driver was high off PCP
and thought he was in a rocket ship and shit. He crashed a few
blocks down the street. He ended up in a wheelchair and in jail,
but fuck it, the damage was already done. My father was dead, and
my moms was only like twenty-five then and had never worked. All of
a sudden she's got to hold it down for herself and me."

"I'm sorry," Sparks said.

"It's okay. The one thing that gives
me comfort about Papi's death is that he made his peace with the
Lord when he was alive. My family was really religious. My papi and
I used to go to church all the time. On Wednesday nights we would
go to Bible study at his church in Harlem, a Baptist church. The
kind of church that had a choir so strong that you thought they
would blow the roof off the church when they sang. Then sometimes
he came with me and Mami to mass, because Mami was Catholic and she
made me go to confession and get baptized a Catholic and
everything. Papi didn't care, as long as I knew about the Lord and
how good He was. He taught me how to pray and what it meant to be
saved. I was really young, but those are things about Papi I can
never forget. I tried to so many times. From the time I left home,
I tried to erase every bit of scripture I'd ever heard from my
head. When I lost Papi, I lost my faith. But like I've heard some
folks say, if you train a child up in the right path, he won't
stray from it. Or something like that. Anyway, my papi was saved,
so I know that he is in heaven." Sparks said nothing; he only
smiled encouragingly, so Dez continued her story.

"If he was alive, maybe my life would
be totally different. Maybe I'd be a doctor, or even a teacher or
something. Maybe Mami would have had a chance to be a better
parent. My dad had a few benefits with his job, so we had a little
something to live off for a while. But I think it just got to be
too much for Mami. She couldn't keep up the note on our little crib
in Queens. So she swallowed her pride, and we went to my
grandparents' for a minute, but that didn't really work out. My mom
was different after all that shit happened. She only cared about
kicking it. She was always in the streets with her friends, fucking
with this nigga and that nigga. Not taking care of me and shit. My
grandma got real sick, and my grandfather said my mother had to
change her ways or bounce, so she bounced. She left me with them
and did her thing, even though her parents were old and sick. She
didn't even care about me. Finally, when my grandparents were both
in the hospital, my mother came back and got me. It was only
because she didn't have a choice, though. They both died soon after
that. That was the last time I can actually remember feeling loved
and loving someone in return no matter what. I thank God that I had
my dad and my grandparents, even if it wasn't for that
long."