Terry and Derrek were twins. They looked all right, but they were old and it showed. Derrek was for Tina. He was short, buff, and bald. I called him Mr. Clean behind his back. My dude Terry was similar to Derrek in height, but he was less buff and more flabby, and he was only bald in the middle. Both of them dressed very well, in Italian-made suits, expensive jewelry, and silk and cashmere shit, which compensated for what they lacked in the physical department.

We met up with Terry and Derrek at the MGM Grand Hotel on the strip. They already had a room for us. It was a huge two-bedroom suite on the top floor. Our view was off the hook. We could see the whole strip and at night-it was a sight to see. So many bright lights, fancy cars, and people. Guys and girls filled the streets, walking, driving, or posted up on the strip. It was exciting. Every bone in my body anticipated action. Tina and me were turning so many heads, and if we were selfish and careless bitches we could have jumped in one of them Ferraris quick, right in front of Terry and Derrek. But that wasn’t our steez. And besides, Terry and Derrek gave us no reasons to. They were both filthy rich and had no problem peelin’ off. We were like their trophies, and they kept us polished and lookin’ good. We drank, partied, and fucked a lot, and we even did some shopping at the Venetian. It was fun as hell out there, but when the week was up I was ready to go home. I missed my house. That is, until I got there.

The first thing I noticed when I walked through my front door was the blinking on my answering machine. I checked the caller ID first and saw that James had called me about a thousand times. I told all my dudes that I was going to Vegas with Tina for a few days, so I didn’t know why James blew up my phone. Besides, he was in Houston negotiating a contract with the Rockets. What would he be all pressed to get in touch with me for? I thought.