Secret Society A Novel

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  • Format: Paperback
  • Copyright: 2006-04-04
  • Publisher: Touchstone
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"It had been a year and a half since I graduated high school and a year since I been workin' -- workin' niggas, that is."It's 2001, and Celess and Tina are at the top of their game. With Celess's fine features and Tina's voluptuous body, they attract attention from men wherever they go. From New York to Philly to Delaware, they hit all the clubs and every big party with the baddest outfits. And they don't pay for a thing. Celess has no job and no need to worry about getting one, not with boyfriends like O, Tariq, and James lining up to buy her the latest designer clothes, the hottest jewelry, and the most expensive cars.But Tina's and Celess's fast, packed lives are about to catch up with them. The two share a devastating secret, and when it's revealed, Celess will need every ounce of her street smarts to survive. This book has a twist that will leave you shocked!



I evaluated my situation. I had lost James and I was in the process of losing O. Tariq was the only one I had a grip on. Tariq was still paying my mortgage, but I needed another James to pay my other bills. O was still lookin' out on my wardrobe and pocket money, but it was nowhere near what I used to get from him. I needed to make a comeback. Tina was getting bored too. White Derrek would wire her money ever' so often and this Puerto Rican hustler named Jahuan from down the badlands was taking her out and would buy her some shoes here and there, but that wasn't enough. We took a trip up New York to go to a fight and met some guys just in time for Valentine's Day. Tina put me down with boxers. She used to mess with one back before her and I met, and she told me all about the kind of money some of them make.

The fight was interesting. I'd never been to a live boxing match before then. We went to the after-party at the Pierre on Fifth Avenue, which was where the meeting and greeting began. This brown-skinned bony dude came over to Tina and me and told us that his friend wanted to holla. We were prepared to tell bull to get lost, but when we saw that his friend was Christopher Talley, the super middleweight champion of the world, we were like all right.

"What are yall drinking?" Chris asked.

"Apple martini." It was Tina's favorite drink.

"A peach schnapps," I said.

"Good fight," Tina said.

"Thank you," he replied.

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.

Throwback was light brown with big hazel eyes that locked on mine and followed my every move. Tina was on Baby Blue Mink, who was dark-skinned and stocky. Iceman was caramel-colored with dimples. I was on him too. I wouldn't have minded having him and Throwback.

Tina and me stopped in the flow of traffic and walked over to the side to introduce ourselves.

"You might as well put my number in there while you at it," Tina told the guy with the blue mink on as he was pressing buttons on his two-way sidekick.

"Oh, I'm two steps ahead of you, shawty. What it is?" Blue Mink asked with a heavy southern accent.

Tina recited her cell number. Meanwhile, I started talking to Throwback. We first exchanged names and numbers. Then we had a brief conversation about my outfit and how good I looked in it. After a couple laughs and flirtatious comments, we parted ways. We couldn't be standing around with niggas for too long because there were too many more ballers that we wanted to get acquainted with.

From what we saw when we weren't in the hall, the game was pretty good. We had courtside seats too, so that made it even better. We got to see all those fine-ass athletes up close and personal. Kobe Bryant did his thing, despite the crowd's boos. And A.I. put on a good show too. But I must say, I was more excited to see Michael Jordan play. In his whole career I had not seen him play. It took for him to come out of retirement and be in an All-Star game for me to see him live. But I'm glad I finally got the chance. After the game ended and the MVPs were announced, people flooded the halls once again. Tina and me took our time getting to the exit because we wanted as many people to see us as possible, especially outside when we stepped into the Hummer. Girls were dressed in tight miniskirts and see-through shirts, freezing their asses off for attention, and were pissed off when niggas looked past them to see who the two pretty bitches were gettin' into the Hummer. Tina and me were crackin' up. We had the driver turn the radio up real loud, and we had the windows down. We were sipping on Cristal, nasty and all just to see the look on bitches' faces. Niggas were walking up to the window tryin' to holla, some were just staring, and others would just shout compliments to us. Overall, we stole the let-out. As you know, the let-out is just as important if not more than the game. It is when you truly see how people are holdin'. Because they can have on all the jewelry in the world, but if their wheels ain't right, then they really ain't doin' it.

While we were making our way out of the parking lot, my cell phone rang. It was a Georgia number. It wasn't surprising that I got a call from Throwback so quick, being as though him and his squad were from Atlanta and probably would be headed back home the next day. Like most out-of-towners, they were basically lookin' to get some before they left.

"What's crackin', sexy?" Throwback asked me with his heavy southern accent.

"Who is this?" I asked, already knowing the answer.


"Oh, Throwback, Blue Mink, and Iceman from Atlanta. What's up?"

He chuckled. "Damn, you on ya job, ain't you?"

"Basically," I replied.

"Well, don't worry, shawty, 'cause me and my boys ain't finnin' to rape nobody so you won't be needin' to give up no descriptions, ya heard."

"Oh, that's the least of my worries, trust me. Besides, those descriptions are for my records, not for no cops," I said.

He chuckled again and said, "You cute as you wanna be, you know that? I'm feelin' ya style, though."

Then he popped the question. "What are yall gettin' into tonight?"

"That all depends on what yall are gettin' into."

"Hopefully yall," he said, being honest.

I was horny just talking to Damien, and Atlanta was long ways from Philly, so a one-night stand wouldn't have hurt.

"If yall can find yall way to my house, then it's a bet," I said flirtatiously.

"Give me the address," he replied.

The Three Moneyketeers, a nickname Tina came up with, found their way to my house. Tina and me had been waiting patiently. If we had pussies they would have been wet as shit when they pulled up in a platinum CLK 430 with twenty inches of chrome spinners. Got damn, I thought. Any plans of getting with Tariq that night just flew out the window.

Tina took Blue Mink and Iceman in one bedroom, and I had Throwback all to myself in my bedroom. Tina was great at what she did. She could easily handle two men without them getting the least bit suspicious about anything. She would say something like, "I like fucking with my skirt on" or "The only way in is through my ass." Guys would just take her for being kinky and go along with her, and it worked. Me, on the other hand, I had a hard enough time trying to do one dude without him seeing or touching something he would regret.

Throwback was thrilled at my panties with the back cut out. He was even more thrilled that I had been willing to let him ass-fuck me the first time around. He was aggressive too. I had to make him stop a couple times. In bed he was opposite his subtle and sweet looks. He was like a raging bull. I guessed that was how he stayed so skinny. From that night on, the nickname Throwback stuck with Damien for more than one reason.

Copyright © 2006 by Meosha Coleman

Excerpted from Secret Society by Miasha, Miasha
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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