Chris looked like he could have been cute if it wasn’t for the missing teeth and permanent scars that came with boxing. But he was dressed nice, and it was obvious he had money. Tina wound up with him, and I settled for another fighter, Shawn, who was from the same camp as Chris. We all ate and drank and then headed up to a hotel room. After I went down on Shawn and Tina did God knows what with Chris, we all exchanged numbers and started dealing with each other regular. I even spent Valentine’s Day with Shawn at his house in Brooklyn. That pissed O off.
“How the fuck you goin’ spend Valentine’s Day with some other nigga?” O screamed in the phone.
“When you decided to have somethin’ on the side,” I responded.
“So, you fuckin’ this nigga?” O asked, as if I had already admitted it to him.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m into,” I said, being real for the first time in our so-called relationship.
I was tired of O’s recent bullshit. We both had ulterior motives, shit.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he said right before he banged on me.
I wasn’t mad, though. Actually, I couldn’t have cared less. Shit, it was time for O to take what he dished. I was moving on. And I guess that’s exactly what it took to bring O back to reality, because his ass started paying me a lot more attention after he found out I was messin’ with somebody else. He called me more and wanted more of my time. I gave it to him only because he was closer and more convenient than Shawn, who traveled a lot.
Meanwhile, Tina and I were making all kinds of plans for All-Star weekend. It was so convenient that it was in Philly that year. We went down South Street and had some things made. I ordered a baby pink leather suit with white stripes going down the side of the legs and arms like the Adidas sweat suits. The shirt hung off the shoulders. It was hot. I bought a baby pink Kangol to go with it. Tina ordered the Iverson jersey with the red leather sleeves and the red leather ties on the sides. It was hot too. She paid $349 for that shirt. She bought some Frankie B. jeans from down Charlie’s in Old City and some hot red Miu Miu boots to go with it. That was just for the game, though. We still had to buy outfits for the other parties. I bought a J Lo jeans outfit that had tan ties up the legs and the jacket. Bought tan Chanel boots, a tan knitted Chanel bag, and a tan knitted Chanel hat to match. Hats and things that tied up were hot shit that year. Tina did a winter white leather Dolce & Gabbana miniskirt, a winter white boat-neck sweater, and some winter white D &G knee boots.
The Friday before the game we went to an invite-only in Atlantic City. There were a lot of upscale people there and a few losers who probably worked in the mail room and got the hookup on some invitations. Tina and I almost fainted when we saw Morris Chestnut sitting in a booth. We kept our cool, though. We basically spent that night drinking and mingling. This guy approached me while Tina was dancing with somebody.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you,” I responded.
I was trying to be nice even though I already knew I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. He was so corny it was sad. He had on some slacks and a dress shirt. The top button of his shirt was open, revealing a gold herringbone chain. He was wearing what looked like a high school class ring on his pinky finger. And to top things off he had a part in the middle of his low haircut.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Celess,” I answered.
I decided to play with dude a little before taking the knife to his throat.
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“Jared,” he replied.
“What do you do, Jared?”
“I play the flute. What about you?”
“I play men,” I said firmly.
He just grinned.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” he said, and walked away.
I figured he would do that. Tina came over to me just in time for me to tell her about the clown who had just approached me, but she beat me to the punch.
“How about I’m dancing with the bull, giving him the butt and everything. So we talking and I’m probing him. I asked him what kind of car did he drive. He talking about a Cavalier with twenties and an Alpine stereo-”
“A souped-up Chevy,” I butted in.
“Basically,” Tina continued. “Then I asked him if he had a house. He talking about he’s the man of the house. Guess who the women of the house were!”
“His wife and daughter?” I asked, playing the guessing game with her.
“No! His mom and his grandmom!” Tina said, bursting out into laughter.
“Well, dude I was just talking to plays the flute,” I said.
“Get the fuck outta here,” she said, still laughing.
We figured we would have better luck meeting some real niggas at the All-Star game.
The First Union Center was packed. The parking lots all looked full. Thank God Tina and me rented a stretch Hummer. If we would have drove we would have spent the whole game looking for parking. When we pulled up to the entrance and stepped out the car, all eyes were on us. Bitches were waiting to see some niggas hop out behind us, and when that didn’t happen, they were hatin’. It was written all over their faces. They probably were thinkin’, How them bitches get that by themselves?
Inside, the halls were crowded. People were making their way to their seats. The concession lines were long, and of course posted along the walls were lines of guys and girls, all dressed in their flyest shit. There were furs, diamonds, and designer labels galore.
“Pink Sweat Suit,” a familiar voice called out.
I turned around. It was Tariq. What is he doing here? I thought. This wasn’t his type of crowd. I smiled and walked over to him. Tina followed.
“What’s up?” I greeted him with a hug.
“Long time no see,” he responded playfully as he held me close.
He looked like a regular dude that day instead of a nerd like usual. He had on some baggy jeans that draped over a pair of fresh tan Tims, or butters as I called them. He had on an off-white long john shirt and a fitted cap that matched the Tims. My intentions were to flirt with him briefly and then go on about my business, but Tariq acted like he didn’t want to let me go.
“Where you been?” Tariq asked, still holding on to my waist.
“I been around,” I responded as I gazed at the people passing by. I avoided eye contact with Tariq, as I was trying to see it all, not wanting to miss a beat.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He wanted to press the issue.
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me after tonight, babe,” I said with a smile as I kissed him on his cheek. I was trying to keep the conversation short so Tina and I could continue to see and be seen.
“What are you doing after this?” he asked.
At the time I didn’t have any definite plans for after the game, but I was sure I would make some and they wouldn’t include being with Tariq. Not that there was anything wrong with him, I mean he was paying my mortgage. It was just that I was in the mood for something different, something new.
“I’m not sure just yet. Tina’ll probably drag me to something,” I told him.
“I want to see you this evening,” Tariq said in a rather demanding tone. “So make sure you call me when you get done being dragged around by Tina.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”
I kissed Tariq on his cheek once more and slipped back into the crowd. I made it my business to go all the way to the other side of the building before I started hollerin’ at dudes. I didn’t want Tariq to see me in action. Shit, I didn’t need to give him any excuses to stop paying my house off. Tina and I walked up on these fly dudes. It was three of them. One had on a throwback, some jeans, and some sneaks and a hat that matched the jersey. The second one had on a baby blue mink, a baby blue and white Sean John sweatshirt, some dark blue jeans, and some baby blue, dark blue, and white sneaks. The third one had on a tan long-sleeve T with a picture of Bob Marley on the front, some jeans, and some Tims. His accessories brought out his outfit-an iced-out Breitling, a platinum chain with an icy L, and a pair of studs that had to be at least two carats each.
