Sex, Secrets and South Beach (5 page)

"Look, that was business, okay? I
don't want you to feel like I expect you to do it again." Ginger
smiled, and Desiree breathed a sigh of relief.

"How much are you paying at your
spot?" Ginger asked her.

"One seventy-five a week," Desiree
answered.

"Well, you can stay here until you
figure out what you want to do, where you want to live. I've got
plenty of room, as you can see. You can pay me four hundred a
month, okay? That's cheaper than a hotel, and you can save up for
an apartment."

Ginger awaited a response from
Desiree. "Okay I really could use the help, and this is a great
house. It's a whole lot better than my hotel. I promise I'll pay
you on time and I'll be clean and I won't get in your way," Desiree
rambled. She didn't care that she barely knew Ginger: there was no
way she was going to turn the offer down.

Ginger laughed. "Chill, shawty, you at
home now."

Ginger suggested they go get her stuff
and then go shopping on the beach.

"Won't the stores be closed?" Desiree
asked. It would be after seven or eight o'clock by the time they
got dressed and got her stuff.

"Nah. Not on the beach. And the club
we're going to doesn't get started till later. We have plenty of
time."

"Okay," Desiree agreed. Ginger gave
her fresh towels and told her to help herself to anything she
needed. Then she gave her a pink Nike shorts suit to
wear.

After dressing they left the house and
walked toward the Bimmer, which was parked in the driveway along
with an Explorer.

"The Explorer's yours too, huh?"
Desiree inquired.

"Yup."

"So this investment stuff you were
talking about earlier, you really think I could do what you
did?"

"Sure. Stick with me, kid. You'll be
all right," Ginger assured her.

Desiree admired the
terra-cotta-colored stucco home with its manicured lawn and perfect
landscaping. It was one of the nicest homes Desiree had ever seen.
She'd been in a few brownstones back in New York that were pretty
tight, but they didn't have the little extras Ginger's house had.
Desiree noticed the fruit trees in the yard, as well as the palm
trees.

"Is this a golf course?" she asked,
her eyes wide with wonder.

"Yeah." Ginger shrugged,
like
everyone
lived on a golf course. She chirped the alarm and got in the
BMW. She let the top down, and the Florida sun beamed on their
skin, even though it was early evening.

"Can I ask you a question?" Desiree
asked over the car's stereo as they stopped and started through the
traffic on the Palmetto Expressway.

"Sure." Ginger looked at her briefly;
her eyes were shielded by a pair of Versace sunglasses.

"What made you start dancing? I mean,
you're obviously smart, you know computers and got investments and
stuff. Plus, you know guys like Dewante. As pretty as you are, you
could be married with a family. Why do this?" Desiree asked
her.

Ginger laughed. "Let's not talk about
that now." Ginger cranked the stereo louder and sang along in
Spanish to a salsa song on the radio that identified itself as
"Noventa y Ocho...Caliente!"

Packing Desiree’s belonging
was a snap. All of her
things fit easily
into the trunk of Ginger's car. All she had was clothes and shoes,
and not many of those. After closing up her bill and returning her
key to the desk clerk, they headed toward South Beach. Desiree was
excited about going shopping with plenty of money in her pocket,
something she had never done before.

They went to a boutique called Metro
and had a ball trying on all the funky clothes. Desiree bought a
black sequined halter in the shape of a butterfly and a pair of
black, boot-cut pants. The outfit accentuated her figure, adding
curves to areas where they hadn't seemed to be earlier, and the
sparkle of sequins made her eyes shine gray with flecks of green.
Ginger bought a super-short denim miniskirt and a sheer shirt.
While they browsed the other fashions the store had to offer,
Ginger convinced Desiree to try on a blondish wig from the large
selection in the back of the store.

"It's final! You have to color your
hair," the flamboyantly gay salesman told Desiree. "Sandy brown
with blond highlights is so you."

Ginger agreed emphatically and
insisted on doing it that night. She whipped out a cell phone and
began chatting in Creole.

"Damn, you speak French?" Desiree
asked her, impressed.

"That wasn't French, that was Creole,
which is French-based. But to answer your question, yeah, I speak
French too and, of course, Spanish. I'm Dominican and Haitian."
Ginger shrugged her shoulders like her multilingual skills were no
big deal. "But anyway, my girl DeeDee can hook you up at the crib.
She lives in Carol City, not far from us. She'll roll through
around 9:30 to hook us up. So let's grab some shoes from next door
and get a move on." Desiree was impressed at how easily Ginger made
things happen.

They went next door to
Nurielle and bought shoes to match their ensembles. Ginger knew the
salesgirl, so she hooked them up with two-for-one Sergio Rossi
stilettos. Desiree was ecstatic at the purchase of
three-hundred-dollar shoes. She'd never had any quality shoes that
weren't sneakers. And as for clothes, she'd owned Lady Enyce and
Mecca and Baby Phat and the like, but never foreign designers. Now
she was going to step into a club on the beach looking like she
stepped out of a fashion magazine instead of the
Source
magazine.

"Don't worry about the money you
spent," Ginger said. "I can sew. I'm going to bootleg some of their
shit for us. Today I just felt like shopping. I figured you'd like
it too."

"Like it? I love it! I've only seen
clothes like this in videos. But I'm sure glad you can sew. Who
knew how much ripped-up T-shirts and old jeans with crystals on
them cost?" Desiree replied.

"Yeah, they're buggin' with their
prices, but I can't blame them. Tourists spend money like it’s
water here. And the reason you've seen clothes like this in videos
is because this is where they get a lot of the wardrobe for videos.
They shoot one damn near every week here. Matter of fact, you could
be in some, I'm sure."

"Me?" Desiree asked,
shocked.

"Yeah, you! You could
model."

"But I'm kind of short. I'm not white
or six feet tall or skinny," Desiree objected.

"Girl, please. You're prettier than
all those girls. You look like me, remember?" Ginger
teased.

"Well, why don't you model? You're
tall."

"To make a long story short, I've been
there, done that, and don't like it. I’m a control freak, and when
you model, you don't have any control over anything."

"I don't see how anyone could not like
getting paid to be pretty. I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"Well, you'll have your chance. I know
a few people if you're really interested. But shit, you'll surely
meet someone who'll claim they can make you a star. I guarantee it.
Just be careful. A lot of these so-called agents are full of shit
and will get you hooked up in a lot of bullshit," Ginger
warned.

"Well, I'll let you help me. I can
trust you." Desiree smiled at Ginger.

"Shawty, don't trust anyone. Not here.
Sleep with one eye open. Don't get so caught up in the glitz and
glamour of this beach, or it will eat you alive."

"What about you?" Desiree eyed Ginger
suspiciously.

"What about me?" Ginger
quipped.

"Can I trust you?" Desiree was
serious.

"Sometimes I don't even trust me,"
Ginger replied, and headed for her car.

They pulled up to Ginger’s
house at the same time
as DeeDee. Desiree
took note of DeeDee's hooked-up Acura and crisp denim jumpsuit. Her
hair was laid out in a stylish, short cut and dyed a mahogany hue.
She sported long acrylic nails with designs and crystals on each
finger, and her hands were adorned with gold and platinum rings.
DeeDee was iced out and jeweled up, making Desiree wonder how the
hell she was gonna do anyone's hair. DeeDee pulled a large aluminum
case and a duffel bag out the trunk of her car and teetered on her
high-heeled boots toward the house.

"
Sak passé?
" DeeDee greeted
Ginger.

"
Ma boulé,
" Ginger replied in the
traditional Creole greeting. "Come on back." Ginger led DeeDee and
Desiree to the Florida room at the back of the house. In a corner
she had a mini beauty salon, complete with a barber's chair,
shampoo bowl, and hair dryer. The station had a huge art deco
mirror and contemporary lighting. Desiree's jaw dropped.

"You have a beauty salon in your
house?" Desiree asked, shocked.

Ginger laughed. "It's only one
station." DeeDee began removing assorted jars, bottles, combs, and
brushes from her bag and case.

"You've never been back here?" DeeDee
asked.

"Lil' Desiree is just moving in. I'm
taking her under my wing," Ginger explained.

"You gonna be on her Web site?" DeeDee
inquired as she got to work doing the ladies' hair.

"Nah. Desiree got more potential than
that. She's gonna do big things. I can feel it," Ginger answered
for Desiree. Desiree couldn't contain her smile at the
compliment.

"Y'all going to Groove Jet?" DeeDee
asked, snapping her gum as she combed a bleaching solution through
Desiree's hair.

"Yeah. You know that's my spot,"
Ginger told her. She was sitting under a hair dryer, her hair in
large curlers.

"I thought you would be working
tonight. Ain't Coco's the spot on Tuesdays?" DeeDee
asked.

"Yeah, but I needed a little break.
I'm taking my little protégée out to the beach with me, let her see
how it's done here in the Bottom," Ginger explained. Desiree liked
the sound of that: her protégée. No one had ever acted like she had
any potential before.

"Well, break her in slow," DeeDee
joked, then began to chat with Ginger in Creole.

DeeDee hooked both of them up with
Doobie wraps and did Desiree's color within two hours. Desiree was
amazed to see Ginger break her off with two hundred dollars for the
service.

"Let me give you something," Desiree
offered, fishing in her pocket for a hundred-dollar bill, but
Ginger refused.

''I'm gonna do your makeup now, okay?"
Ginger informed Desiree, pushing her hand away Desiree smiled in
appreciation and followed Ginger into her bathroom.

Ginger pulled a huge aluminum train
case containing a ton of cosmetics from a closet in the bathroom
suite and motioned to Desiree to sit in the dressing table chair.
Ginger arched Desiree's slightly bushy eyebrows and applied makeup
to her clear, smooth skin, explaining what she was doing while she
did it, so Desiree would be able to re-create the look on her own.
When Desiree finally saw herself in the mirror, her hair full,
wavy, and bouncy, and her features highlighted with just the right
amount of makeup, she was shocked.