A Street Girl Named Desire: A Novel (20 page)

“Yeah, but you'll make sure your pockets are fat and go'n stay fat before that shit happen. Get out of my house, motherfucker!” Dollar pointed to the door.

Whip gathered his briefcase and shook Desire's hand. He then made his way to the loft's elevator alcove. Dollar threw Desire off of him as soon as the elevator arrived to take Whip down.

“There has to be somebody else you can talk to,” Desire said, following Dollar as he tore into every pillow, picture frame and
statue in his massive living room. Desire could not stop him. She decided now was not the time to let him know that she was thinking of ending the relationship. Then, he turned on her.

“Did you know about this, bitch?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently. “Whip done fucked up yo head now too. Got you thinkin you 'bout to be a star too. Well, yo ass would still be turning tricks in a strip joint if it wasn 't for me. He told you about this, didn 't he!”

Dollar had been angry with Desire before, but he had never put his hands on her. She was suddenly terrified of him. She had the thought that he might pull a razor out of his mouth and slash her with it. And she did not have a razor in her mouth this time to compete with. Desire cried out, but Dollar did not stop questioning and shaking her, no matter how much she told him no. He had lost control. The beautiful Harlem loft he still had to pay for wasn 't so beautiful anymore. He went to the parking lot at Seventh Avenue where he kept his vehicles and busted the windows of his Benz and Escalade. But before he trashed the cars, he beat Desire until she was unconscious. Tiah and Chanel found her the next day on the living room floor when they arrived to take her to the studio. They had to cancel the session because Desire's mouth and eyes were so bruised, she did not want to be seen. The next day, after the rescheduled studio session, they found some small belongings Desire had brought to Dollar's house sitting on the curb of 125th Street.

Once Desire was able to make it to the Greenwich Village apartment where Whip was putting them all up until recording was over, she noticed a pile of papers stuffed in between the wrinkled clothes Dollar had smashed into huge garbage bags. The papers
were a bunch of letters that had been ripped in half. With her hands shaking, Desire put the pieces together and realized that Dollar had been opening letters addressed to Tiah. Carvelas had been writing to her for months, and she hadn 't even known.

With Dollar out of the picture, Whip could concentrate on turning Desire, Cream and Dream into his next sensation. Desire was the lead singer on every record that the group recorded for the new album, which would launch their careers. “Harlem Girl Lost” had burned up the charts, mostly because of them, and the public couldn 't wait to hear more. To everyone at CBR, Desire was the real cash cow. The girls played several small concert venues around the country to keep their names and faces in the public eye after the New Year's Eve moment and before their first album came out. Whip knew he had to continuously promote the group, because in the relatively short amount of time it was going to take to produce a hit album, the public would forget the three girls who had torn up the stage on New Year's Eve. The concert crowds always went wild over Desire. As far as CBR was concerned, whatever Desire wanted, Desire got. And she knew it. Whip would grant her every request to keep her happy. But when it came to giving the group a better contract, he stuck to his guns and would not give an extra penny. He told her that a deal was a deal. They would make much more if they didn 't worry about money and worried about producing a hit record.

The more Desire learned about the music industry, the more she realized how bad a deal the group had signed. From what she heard, other, less talented artists were receiving a much larger portion
of profits than Desire, Cream, and Dream, seemed to be getting. Still, Whip spoiled them with shopping and spa trips as he tried to ease their minds so they could save all their energy for the studio sessions. After a tiring day of recording, Whip would often treat them to dinner at one of Manhattan's most exclusive restaurants. But that didn 't keep Desire from obsessing over the fine print she had noticed in the contract. Fine print that only guaranteed them pennies for every record they sold, while Whip and CBR would receive the bulk. Desire wanted to get out of the contract, by any means; she was just waiting for the perfect time. And the eve of releasing their first record was certainly not the perfect time.

Whip was in a meeting when Desire stormed into his office. The three white accountants, already nervous simply by being in Whip's presence, nearly hit the floor when the singer they had all heard about came in with a hellish look on her face.

“Whip, what the hell is this shit?” Desire fumed. She held up a piece of paper. Dazed, Whip turned a light smile toward the accountants, as they quickly stood, embarrassed, pretending to wipe lint off of their suits.

“I'm sorry, gentlemen,” Whip said. “Let me introduce you to Desire Evans. Desire, this is—”

“Fuck them,” Desire interrupted, not even looking their way. “I want to know what's this bullshit with my advance check?”

Whip cleared his throat. “Desire, give me a minute, and then we can discuss this in private.”

Desire was not having any of it. “I ain 't waiting a minute. I'm
about to put this place on blast if you don 't tell me what happened to my money!”

One of the accountants anxiously interjected, “We …we can come back a little later, if you like.” Whip waved his hand toward them to indicate they should leave.

He remained silent as he watched the three men exit. Whip turned to Desire and said, “Now, what do you want to talk about?”

“This small-ass check, that's what the fuck I want to talk about!”

Whip sighed and rolled his eyes. “Desire, how many times do I have to tell you, that is handled by the accounting department.”

“Bullshit, this shit happened on my first check, and you said the first checks are always small and that I'm gonna see a bigger check the next time. I trusted you.”

“What do you want me to do, Desire?” Whip said. “Everything is in black and white. Every dime, every nickel, every penny!”

“Whip, we been doing shows all over the country and promoting this record well before it's coming out. We was already famous after New Year's Eve. Where all the money from our shows? What happened to the money you said we was getting for workin our asses off every day? How the fuck I receive only four thousand dollars?” screamed Desire.

Whip shrugged. “Desire, I told you before, that is based on monies after everything is recouped—traveling expenses, hotels, food, and you got your video budget, production costs, publicity, then don 't forget, you girls' personal account …shit, that's damn near a million right there.”

He watched her closely as he spoke in a winding tone. Desire was definitely the real deal, because she was one of those rare commodities that was respected by both the R&B fan and the ever-fickle hip-hop heads.

“Now, I would understand if you were a solo artist and were upset, but you got to remember—” He paused to ensure he had her attention. “The money is split three ways, and everything you do is always gonna cost you three times as much.”

Whip smiled and told her to sit down so he could further explain the business to her.

“See, Desire, there is no such thing as loyalty in this business. Either you are a shark, or you are a victim. It's all about survival of the fittest in this game, sink or swim, you decide. If you show any weaknesses, you'll be eaten alive. This is the only business where a person can start as a lowly intern who gets someone's coffee, and two years later, that same intern is your boss and making you get his coffee. If you remember one thing from this meeting, remember this, a golden opportunity comes around only once. When it does, you got to be able to do two things: one, recognize it; and two, don 't give a fuck on how anyone feels about it. If it's in your best interest, fuck loyalty, because they would do it to you if the shoe was on the other foot.”

Desire remained silent as she absorbed everything he said.

D
esire's plan was to make a solo record behind Chanel and Tiah's back while they continued to work on their group album. Whip knew that she was the real star in the group; the other girls paled in comparison and were more suited to be backup singers than larger-than-life divas. Desire had that potential, Whip recognized it, and he had no problem helping her cultivate her stardom. In a matter of time, Desire turned into a person that nobody recognized. She began to isolate herself from Tiah and Chanel. She replaced them with an entourage of hangers-on and flunkies. While Tiah and Chanel rode the tour bus to the venues where they opened for more established singing acts, Desire flew with Whip and other executives. After shows, the requests
for Desire's autograph were overwhelming, and Desire loved every minute of attention from the mobs who rushed her after performances. She was also flooded with requests from men who wanted to date her, but she had found a way to get rich on her own and decided that she didn't need men for anything—not even their dicks. The fact that Desire was so elusive simply made men want her more, and pretty soon, street hustlers caught on and began printing posters from her promotional photos. Desire, Cream, and Dream had just one song playing on the radio, yet it seemed everyone in the world knew Desire's name. The girls complained about the favoritism that Desire received, but it fell on deaf ears. The strife and bickering began to take its toll on all of them, especially Tiah.

The bond between Desire and Tiah was now nonexistent. Tiah occasionally phoned Hattie Mae, but Desire never bothered. Hattie Mae did not even know where they were living. Desire barely talked to Tiah. She was more interested in penning her solo songs, or planning and carrying out secret recording sessions with Whip. The only time she and Tiah's paths crossed was when they were onstage, at a photo shoot or doing a group interview. The beating from Dollar had hardened Desire even more. She had watched him carry out his wrath on others, but had never thought he would do it to her. He became just one more person she added to the list of those who had let her down. Ironically, she avoided the two people who never had—Carvelas and Hattie Mae. She didn't want anyone in her life who would try to talk her out of her decisions, try to make her see things their way. Desire enjoyed the flash of jewelry, expensive cars and furs that were
being thrown Desire, Cream, and Dream's way to keep them happy so they would produce. However, she also remembered that when Dollar threw her out, he had kept everything he ever bought her. She knew the group didn't own anything that was being given to them. It was all contingent upon satisfying CBR; if they didn't produce, they would be kicked out and left with nothing, just as Dollar had been. As such, Desire did not care about anyone but herself anymore.

During concerts dates, unusual things began to happen. Once, everyone's wardrobe except Desire's came up missing. When this happened, Tiah and Chanel had to literally wear the clothing on their backs, while Desire wore a glamorous sequined gown, making both girls look like baggage handlers onstage. Another time, the bus driver was given the incorrect itinerary, dropping Tiah and Chanel off at the wrong concert hall, two hours away. By the time they made it to the designated venue, Desire was already bowing and thanking the audience. Ultimately, both girls' roles within the group began to diminish, and they were reduced to backup singers within weeks of their album's release.

Tiah and Chanel were so disgusted with the situation that one day they showed up at the recording studio and refused to sing. Inside the booth, Desire pressed her earphones to her ears and sang her heart out. When it came time for Tiah and Chanel to join the song, they remained silent, and crossed their arms.

“What the … ?” Whip stopped the music, and the sound technicians and engineers were given their cues to exit. Desire had been oblivious to her group members' lack of participation. She had no clue that they had finally caught on to the fact that
they were slowly but surely being phased out of the group, before it was even truly a group.