and it never failed that at least one would get gripped up by a big three-hundred-pound guard and get thrown out the door. I just kept my cool. I wasn’t after the rappers or their homies, anyway. I was after the promoters. Promoters were easier to get to and played fewer games. Tina taught me that it was the promoters who paid the entertainers, so if anybody was holding, it was them. Plus, rappers’ heads were too swelled, so they liked to take girls on joyrides, and a lot of times girls ended up fucking for nothing except bragging rights. Not me.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked the big guard at the doorway.
“Right down the hall on your left,” he said, pointing in the direction.
I went into the bathroom to check my makeup. I was okay, but I needed to reup on my lipstick courtesy of the numerous cups of Alize. I figured I would linger in the bathroom for a while until it was time to make a move.
Close to the end of the show, right before people flooded the hall, I approached this dude who was walking past me. His eyes were glued to mine even though he walked by swiftly.
“Excuse me.” I hollered out. “Where is the exit?” I asked as if I was lost.
“This way. Why?” he said, looking back at me.
“Well, if you lead, can I follow?” I asked.
“I’m not going to the exit yet, sweetheart,” he said hurriedly.
“I didn’t say you were,” I said, walking toward him. “Go ’head,” I said. “I can keep up.”
The guy raised his eyebrows and looked at the guy who was with him. I could tell neither of them was used to somebody like me coming at them, because I took them by surprise.
“I’m not no star, sweetheart,” the guy said with a chuckle.
“I can make you one,” I said, smiling.
“As flattered as I am, I have to turn down your offer. I’m in a rush,” he said as he started to walk away.
I heard the other guy mumble, “I don’t believe you turned that away.”
So I commented, “Some people
The guy stopped walking and turned back to face me. He shook his head. “You’re hurting me, sweetheart. Got damn, you are.”
“Just tell me when and where to meet you,” I said.
“Two at Four Seasons, suite twenty sixteen.”
I smiled and watched him and the other guy continue their brisk walk to the end of the hall. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was a promoter, but he was somebody, and my instincts were telling me to ride.
I went to the South Street Diner to pass time. I ordered the hungry woman breakfast and pigged out. It was packed. I was alone. I was thinking about Michael and how I would much rather have been with him that night, cuddling and making love, watching a few flicks, and maybe playing a game of Scrabble. Yeah, I guess I was falling in love. But I was missing the other stuff that I had been faithful to for four years-the different ballers, the one-night stands, the money, the flash, the fun, the rush. I wanted it bad. And this was the perfect opportunity to get it back, while Michael was away working on a contract.
It was two-eleven when I knocked on suite 2016. There was no answer. At first I was thinking the dude had played me and fed me some bullshit. But I waited around for a little while, hoping he didn’t. It was two thirty-eight when I finally decided to leave. I walked toward the elevator.
“Where you goin’?”
I turned around and saw the guy placing the key in the door. I was relieved, but I had to let him know that I was pissed. I looked at my watch.
“Two o’clock was a half hour ago,” I said.
He smiled and said, “Right, so we definitely don’t have any more time to waste, do we?”
I grinned and followed him into his suite. It was big and nicely designed, but I’d seen better. Besides, he had it looking like a pigsty.
“I never did get your name,” he said as he started throwing things from the bed onto the floor.
“Ce…lina,” I said, deciding at the last minute not to give my name.
“Selena?” he asked. “Like the singer?”
“Yes, like the singer,” I said, standing in the same position as if I was on my pivot.
“Come in, have a seat. You have to excuse this mess, I was rushing for the show.”
“What’s your name?” I asked as I walked over to the bed.
“Mann,” he answered.
I sat down and he sat next to me. He was an old head, probably in his mid- to late thirties. He was short and somewhat stocky, with a cute light brown face: squinted eyes, a pointed nose, and thin lips. He had a nicely groomed mustache and goatee and a low cut that revealed a nice grade of waves. He admired me, I could tell.
“You are very attractive, you know that?” he said. “And you look good as hell in that dress. Is that a dress?” he asked, placing his hand on my thigh.
I was wearing a Missoni minidress. It was colorful, with blotches of aqua and hot pink, and it came to the middle of my thighs. It had long, loose sleeves that gathered at the wrists, giving it a balloon effect. My legs were bare and I wore a pair of Marc Jacobs leather hot pink pointy-toe pumps with a kitten heel. I wore my hair in a weave that was parted in the middle with loose curls at the tips that fell a little past my shoulders. My makeup was soft but vibrant, with one coat of hot pink on my eyelids and lips and a small amount of pink blush. I had on diamond hoops and a diamond Rolex, and I carried a small hot pink leather clutch. I wore no coat despite the fact it was the end of October.
“You look like something out of magazine,” Mann said, rubbing my thigh.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Enough about me. I want to know about you. What are you into?”
“Well, I told you earlier I’m not no star, you know. I’m just a regular cat doing regular things.” He was beating around the bush.
“A presidential suite in the Four Seasons is not regular in any sense of the word,” I said. “Come on, tell me what you do. You run the show, don’t you? You’re that man behind the scenes that nobody knows but who got the big bank, ain’t you?” I asked him in between nibbling on his ear.
He smiled. “I don’t know about the big bank, but I am behind the scenes. I’m a promoter-slash-manager. So, yes, I am the one who runs the show.”
“See, now, was that hard?” I asked, fondling him.
“And what about you? What do you do, because usually the gold diggers go after the performers, the ones who show their hands. I never in all my years in this business had one come after me. Shit, they even go after the bodyguards and the drivers. But they never come after me. So what are you into?”
I smiled at him. “Why dig for gold when diamonds play the surface? I’m a professional.”
“I see,” Mann said, as he lay on his back and closed his eyes.
November
“Good morning, yall,” I said as I walked into the salon.
I got the usual “Hey, girl, what’s up? You look tired.” I sat down at the receptionist’s desk and pulled out my bacon, egg, and cheese on a hoagie roll. I took two bites out of it and was interrupted by a phone call on my cell.
“Yes,” I answered, frustrated.
“Put that sandwich down and have brunch with me.” The voice on the other end sounded so clear, as if it were right next to me.
“Ba-by!” I squealed as I jumped out of my seat.
Michael was walking toward me from the back of the salon.
“Yall knew my baby was back and yall didn’t say nothing,” I teased.
It had been a whole month since I’d seen Michael, and I missed the hell out of him.
“Oooh maaa!” He gave me a big kiss on my forehead and squeezed me in his muscular arms.
“When did you get back?” I asked, sounding like a little girl.
“Late last night. I didn’t want to call because I figured you were asleep.”
“So, where are we doing brunch?” I asked excitedly.
