The Rolexxx Club - Anniversary Edition

by Meta Smith

  Leilani is green as hell. She ain’t never gonna make it in the industry. Hmph! I should blow Desiree’s ass right out of the water. She doesn’t know what to do with a nigga like Bentley. That nigga is sleepin’ on me. I could make him happy, not a ho like Desiree. And I think I’m going to have to just take that man for myself! she thought spitefully, the wheels in her mind busy at work concocting a scheme. “DESIREE, YOU LOOK PERFECT. WE NEED YOU ON THE SET,”

  Leilani told Desiree firmly as soon as she was inside the trailer. “How long on the models?” she continued, not giving Desiree the chance to object.

  “Just some powder and we’re ready to roll,” answered a frazzled makeup artist.

  “Ladies, you all look fabulous. My stylists and makeup artists, you all have done a wonderful job. I just want you to know that everyone really appreciates the work you’ve done.”

  Leilani offered the staff a grateful smile, which somewhat eased the tension in the small, hot trailer. But she had a feeling in her gut that the worst was yet to come.

  A large section of Virginia Key Beach was cordoned off for the shoot. Bodies milled about adjusting lights, reflectors, and cameras for the

  master shot that would account for the majority of the video and some of Dez’s scenes. The models found their way to the set and awaited direction from Sparks and Leilani. They stood around chatting and adjusting their skimpy costumes.

  Bentley and his entourage made it onto the set, and Desiree instantly joined Bentley. Hype Williams, one of Desiree’s favorite directors, instructed her.

  “All right, Dez, before we start shooting the master scene, we want to get some footage of you and Bentley freestyling with each other,” Hype said. “We’re gonna do some with audio and some with no audio. Just vibe off each other and make it raw and hardcore, all right?” Hype had been the first to congratulate her on her deal and promised to direct her first solo video.

  Desiree and Bentley did their takes as the crew and cast stood transfixed. As dynamic as their chemistry was behind closed doors, it was just as hot when they rapped. Anyone who had thought that Desiree was just a pretty face, with her boyfriend writing all of her rhymes, was shown proof of the contrary. Hype, Leilani, and Sparks took a look at some of the footage they shot. The grin on Hype’s face said it all. Desiree had that “it” factor that all stars possessed. He had the crew make some adjustments to the reflectors and the position of the lights, then proceeded to the master shot. Ysenia took this as an opportunity to start some shit.

  “Sorry, mami, but I need to cut in here; just doing my job.” Ysenia grabbed Bentley by the hand and gave it a squeeze.

  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, wav
y 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.

  “Out,” was all he said. Scoop and Jazzy didn’t need to hear anything more and immediately left Bentley alone in the trailer.

  He sank back into the plush seats, covered his face with his hands, and inhaled deeply.

  Damn, he thought. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  CHAPTER 17

  D

  ESIREE CAME BACK FROM HER STROLL FEELING refreshed and ready to tackle anything, even Leilani and Ysenia.

  The ocean was one of the things she loved most about Miami. It always made her feel connected to something. All of her ancestors had lived near the Atlantic. Her family in the Dominican Republic, even her African ancestors, whoever and wherever they were, were probably looking at that same water. For once, thinking about her family and where she came from didn’t make her feel sad or angry. She had a new family now. Bentley and Sparks, Titanium Records, were her fam. She was their first lady, their princess, and their Queen Bee all in one. She decided to see what Bentley was up to before she had her makeup touched up.

  “Hey, baby,” she cooed. She kissed him, but his lips were unresponsive. “What’s the matter?” she asked him. She hoped he hadn’t heard about

  her minor scrape with Ysenia and started tripping. Bentley didn’t say anything; he just grabbed the remote, punched rewind, and then pushed play. Desiree sucked in her breath as if she’d been punched in the gut. That was how it felt to see the tape.

  “Where did you get that? Who gave that to you?” she demanded. “What happens in Cancún stays in Cancún?” he spat
at her, his voice

  full of sarcasm. “Obviously not.”

  “I can explain.” Desiree’s mouth felt like the Sahara. Her throat was

  burning.

  “I don’t really want to hear it.”

  “Can I just talk to you?” she begged. Dez reached for his hand, her eyes pleading.

  “Don’t touch me, Dez.” Bentley dodged her like she had leprosy. This can’t be happening, she thought in a panic. What did you think? That it would disappear? That he’d never find out? You’re so stupid! You aren’t good for shit! How could you think anything good would ever happen to you? You’re nothing! She shook her head