Diary of a Groupie: A Novel - Hardcover

Tyree, Omar

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0743228677 ISBN 13: 9780743228671

Publisher: Simon & Schuster, 2003

Synopsis

Keeping close tabs on a range of unsuspecting no-strings-attached and ruthlessly private boyfriends, Tabitha Night is offered a large sum of money to reveal her secrets by a banker who believes one of Tabitha's conquests molested his daughter.

About this title

About the Author:

Omar Tyree is a New York Times bestselling author, a journalist, lecturer, poet, and recipient of the 2001 NAACP Image Award for the best work of fiction. His bestselling novels include Flyy Girl, A Do Right Man, Single Mom, Sweet St. Louis, For the Love of Money, Just Say No!, and Leslie. He lives in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter One

MGM Grand

Main Street in Las Vegas, Nevada, was the hottest spot for adult fun and games that America had to offer. Every night was a Christmas light show from the biggest front lawns in the neighborhood. Bright lights flickered and enticed the mind in hues of red, pink, yellow, green, purple, blue, white, and orange from every creatively designed building that made up the skyline. "The Strip" was an overdose to the senses, a giant pinball machine of all-night gambling and solicitation. It was a wonder that people ever managed to sleep there. However, they did sleep -- they slept on their own realities and became easy prey for those who recognized the value of remaining awake.

"You ready for this, girl? 'Cause if ya' not, then you betta' get ready. Ain't nuntin' in this world like Vegas. Nothin'."

The girl smiled and kept her cool while sitting inside the white stretch limo with the man. She looked young enough to be his daughter, but she wasn't. That's why the man felt so comfortable when he slid his big right hand over her burnt orange dress and landed it between her legs.

The girl barely noticed his touch. She was too busy being entertained by the bright lights that lit up the Vegas night.

"You need sunglasses out here," she said with a smile.

"Ha, ha, ha!" the man laughed, louder than what was expected. He wasn't even drunk yet.

The girl paid his overreaction no mind.

As the limo came to a complete stop at the curb, she said, "That's a big lion out there."

The man laughed hard again. He said, "Shit, girl, that's the MGM Grand. That's where our fight is tonight."

She nodded to him. "Oh...looks like fun."

"Shit yeah, it's fun," he told her.

The limo driver, a small Latino man in a tuxedo, opened the curbside door for his two African-American passengers.

"Here we are, Mr. Bennett. The MGM Grand."

The driver extended his hand to the young lady, who sat at curbside, and helped her out of the limo.

"Thank you," she told him and grinned.

"No problem."

"Hey, no flirtin' with her, Jose," Mr. Bennett joked.

His driver laughed and shook it off.

"You don't have to worry about me. I have a wife and six children at home."

Mr. Bennett climbed out of the limo and stood at the curb, wearing a black tuxedo himself, size extra large.

He towered over Jose. He said, "You got six young'uns and you only twenty-five years old."

The driver grinned and ignored the slander.

He said, "I wish I was twenty-five again."

Mr. Bennett greased his palm with a ten-dollar bill.

"I'll call you when we're ready to go," he told him. He smiled in the direction of his young lady. "Or better yet, Teresa'll call you when we're ready. She'll probably have to drag me outta here anyway."

Teresa took her cue and grinned, right before she locked her arm in his and pulled him toward the casino.

Thousands of well-dressed fight fans headed inside the casino alongside them, with some of them rushing to get to their seats before they missed any of the action.

"You can tell when these motherfuckers never been to a fight before," Mr. Bennett said to his young date. "They act like they in a got'damned track meet."

Teresa smiled at him and squeezed his bulky arm.

"Marvin 'Head Hunter' Bennett!" someone yelled out.

Mr. Bennett turned his freshly shaved head, standing more than six feet tall and leaning slightly to his left. His rugged brown face showed several healed nicks and scars from too many battles won and lost in the boxing ring. Teresa stood beside him with a baby-doll face, shoulder-length hair, and a sultry young body that appeared untouched and docile.

"How you doin'?" the stranger asked Teresa first, ignoring his old friend for the moment.

Marvin "Head Hunter" Bennett was not as easy on the eyes as his young date was.

"She's doin' just fine," Mr. Bennett answered for her. "Now back ya' ass up off her."

The two older men scrambled into action and began to spar with each other in their tailored suits, right there in the middle of the casino. His friend was not as big or as dark brown as "Head Hunter," but he appeared a touch quicker and more athletic in his old age.

"What 'chew got? What 'chew got?" Mr. Bennett challenged with outstretched jabs. "I'll still knock ya' ass out."

Teresa stood off to the side and shook her head. Boys will be boys, even as old men.

After a minute or so, when they had both run out of gas, the old friend looked at Teresa a second time.

He said, "I see you're doin' well, Marvin." He was referring more to his friend's healthy choice of a date than his actual physical appearance that night.

Mr. Bennett nodded his head with pride and looked Teresa over for himself.

He said, "Yeah, well...some of us earned it."

His friend chuckled at his boast, an old, slick chuckle.

"Yeah, I see."

Teresa stopped their idle chatter and asked, "So...are we gonna see the fight any time soon?"

"Oh, and she can talk too? Well, that's a damn bonus," Mr. Bennett's friend joked.

"I can do much more than that," Teresa teased him.

She didn't seem offended by his slight at all.

The old man became interested in exploring what more she could do, or would do. However, Mr. Bennett cut his plans short.

"Yeah, well, let's get on to this fight," he concluded.

"Aw'ight, I'll see you later on then, Marvin. I got some other people I'm waiting on," his friend told him.

"No you won't see me later," Mr. Bennett responded.

His friend looked at Teresa one last time and said, "Yeah...I guess not."

*

Marvin "Head Hunter" Bennett strutted through the casino crowds with his young eye candy on his arm, headed to the fights inside MGM Grand's main arena. All around them superstitious travelers prayed hard to strike it rich over a thousand game tables and slot machines. Occasionally, the money-grubbing machines and card dealers would hemorrhage on a few of the lucky gamblers, just to keep the crowd of sleepwalkers from waking up to the slim chances of actually winning.

"Oh, yeah! I won! I won!"

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

A flashy jackpot spat out silver coins faster than the old white woman could catch with her plastic bucket.

Sshinnk sshinnk sshinnk sshinnk sshinnk!

Mr. Bennett looked her way and sneered. "Lucky old bitch."

Then he bragged at Teresa, "I don't need to win a bucket full of quarters in this damn place. I already got money. We 'bout to go where the real money is being made, inside that boxing arena."

He said, "You hear me? Ten, twenty million in one night! And that's just the boxers' share."

With that, he yanked Teresa's hand in his with more urgency to get to the fight.

She complained softly without stopping or slowing them down, "Be gentle with me. I'm coming."

Her old man looked back at her and froze for a minute. "Now that's

why I like you so much, girl. You know just how to say shit to an old man," he told her.

Teresa smiled at him and squeezed his arm again to acknowledge his attempt at a compliment. No more words were needed. They had figured out how to bond that night. They would just enjoy themselves.

When they reached the MGM Grand's main arena, Teresa took a deep breath. Roman gladiators went to battle in similar domes of excitement two thousand years ago, and the pandemonium of the crowd had not changed since.

Teresa cupped her ears for a moment to protect them from the deafening roars of boxing fanatics:

"Kick his ass!"

"Yeeaaahh!"

"He ain't got nothin' on you! He ain't got nothin'!"

"Hit 'em wit' 'da left! Hit 'em wit' 'da left!"

The fanatics screamed as if their individual words would be deciphered in a tiny ring of flooded bright lights a football throw away. They screamed, yelled, and hollered all at the same time. It was a wild and spontaneous scene, erupting on Teresa's ears from all angles:

"Yeeaaahh!"

"Fire his ass up!"

"Whhuuuuu-weee!"

"He ain't nothin'! He a bum! He don't deserve this fight!"

"Knock his ass out!"

"He don't want it! Who let his ass up in the ring?!"

"This is it, girl. This is it!" Mr. Bennett exclaimed, as if Teresa had failed to notice.

"Head Hunter" launched into a flashback of his own march into a championship fight some twenty years ago. He began to bounce his head and shoulders left and right as they made their way to their seats near the front.

"You still think you can go a couple of rounds?" Teresa asked him.

She was only teasing, but "Head Hunter" took her seriously. He was a lifelong athlete. His pride overruled the reality of his body.

"You damn right I can still go a few rounds," he answered. "I ain't lost it yet."

Teresa only grinned at him as they found their seats close to ringside.

"Wow, we're up here pretty close," she commented.

Mr. Bennett remained standing at his seat and frowned at her.

"What the hell you think, we were gonna sit up in the nosebleed section wit' 'da nobodies? Shit. I'm a somebody. I'm Marvin "Head Hunter" Bennett up in here!"

He looked around to make sure no one would deny him his right to history that night. And they didn't. The fight fans sitting around them nodded to him with respect. Mr. Bennett nodded back to them and took his seat with his young lady, feeling satisfied with himself.

Teresa took another breath and tried to become comfortable in her surroundings.

"Yeeaahh, that's how you do 'em!" another fanatic screamed from behind her.

Teresa ducked as if a bullet had shot past her.

"God," she mumbled to herself with bent shoulders.

Mr. Bennett caught her protective lean and laughed at her.

He said. "You betta' get used to that, girl. They gon' be doin' that all night. Especially when the big fight comes."

"What's the big fight?" she asked him.

It occurred to her that she had never bothered to ask. She only knew that she had never been to a fight before, so she was honored to accept his offer to accompany him to one that night.

"'Pretty Boy' Floyd Mayweather Jr.," he answered.

Teresa held back her smile and offered a sedate nod instead. She didn't want to alarm her date with too much of a response. She had heard of "Pretty Boy" Floyd Mayweather Jr. often since she moved to Las Vegas. He was one of the most successful and available young bachelors who had made the city his home. But there were plenty of other bachelors who crossed through Las Vegas, bachelors and married men; married men who had left their wives at home.

Teresa looked around and spotted celebrity bachelors and married men who sat in cologne-smelling range. There were actors, singers, rappers, athletes, politicians, comedians, local pimps, and national drug dealers all dressed to the T -- and with plenty of money to spend on the Las Vegas playground.

"Good jab, boy! Work it! " Mr. Bennett shouted toward the ring.

He snapped his young date out of her daydreaming about the other available men there, who were much younger and attractive. Some of them were also wealthier and still marriageable. Marriage and kids remained a viable option for the young woman.

Mr. Bennett had unknowingly brought the girl into a giant shopping mall of new opportunities. It only took her a few minutes before deciding to shop.

"Umm...how long before the main fight?" she asked him innocently.

"As soon as these bums get this shit over with," Mr. Bennett answered. "Why?"

"I have to use the restroom."

"Well, go 'head and do it then. The pre-fight talk takes thirty minutes anyway. So you might as well beat that long-ass line to the women's bathroom now," he joked.

Teresa smiled and stood up at her seat. "I'll be right back."

Mr. Bennett grabbed her arm before she left.

He said, "Look here...don't you get lost now."

Teresa paused long enough to set the old man's mind at ease.

She said, "I know my way around."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," he responded.

She shook her head and grinned at him sheepishly. "I'm coming back. Okay? Now, don't have me stand here and wet my panties. Let me run to the bathroom."

After her fresh-mouthed comment, every set of male eyes in their vicinity locked on the young girl's mug and the burnt orange dress that covered her curves. However, the few women who sat around them knew better. It was some good old-fashioned bullshit. Any mention of the word panties, especially from the mouth of a young woman, consistently moved a man's thinking to the wrong head. They figured the girl was old enough to know as much herself; otherwise she wouldn't be with a man who was more than twice her age.

Mr. Bennett smiled and started laughing, confirming what the other women already knew.

He said, "Yeah, we can wet them together later on."

Teresa smiled at him with superior patience. She allowed him to let her go before she moved.

"Thank you," she told him.

He responded with a long peek over her ripe body, "Yeah, you just, ah...hurry back."

As soon as Teresa made her way to the aisle, her old man looked around and collected the knowing smiles from the other men who envied what he had brought with him to the fight that night, a nice fresh hottie who knew her place.

Mr. Bennett grinned to himself and mumbled out loud, "Shit. I need me a drink. Hey, bring them damn drinks over here!" he hollered in the direction of a beer man who was working the aisles. The old man struggled to negotiate his massive hand into his pants pocket and past his throbbing hard-on to pull out his wad of money. Boy, did that beer taste extra good and cold when it met his lips, creating a foam-filled mustache across his mouth. He just knew he was in for a good night. He had struck the jackpot.

*

Teresa made her way up the aisle and toward the restroom while watching the eyes that watched her.

"Lookin' good! Lookin' good!" someone yelled.

He was not screaming about the boxers this time.

Teresa kept her groove toward the restroom without missing a beat. She already knew what would happen. She was an attractive female in a dress, invading a male-dominated arena.

"Hey, how you doin'?" her first suitor asked.

He was too short for her type and too eager to have any real money. She passed on him with no more than a look.

"Hey there, gorgeous," went the next suitor.

He was too homely to even look at.

The next man went ahead and grabbed her hand.

"I know you're on your way to the bathroom, but I wanna talk to you as soon as you come out. Okay?"

Teresa stopped and asked him, "And what would my friend say abo...

About this edition

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster
• Publication date: 2003
• ISBN 10: 0743228677
• ISBN 13: 9780743228671
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 256