We passed Greensboro College, Moore Music, Jimmy's Corner Cafe. The moneyed real estate changed, the big homes vanished. We cruised into a downtown lined with banks and mom-and-pop businesses. Not long after, we were in the zone where men wore their shirts so large they hung longer than my grandmother's Sunday dress, the laces in their pristine white Air Jordans undone, their super-sized pants hanging below the lowest part of their butt cracks, a style that in prison meant you were gay and willing to copulate. The ones who wore belts had buckles so large they rivaled a WWF championship belt. I knew that we were heading toward poverty, just had no idea how deep into the land of the forgotten children we were going to ride. My eyes went to the door, saw it was locked.

Even with the door locked and Karl nearby, I felt afraid, as nervous as Sandra Bullock's character in the movie Crash.

We looked for spots to shoot, nothing stood out, at least not right away. Karl rode up and down the one-way streets until he found what his artistic eye needed, an area that was the opposite of safe and clean. An area I never would have stopped to visit, but it excited him to no end. He parked, removed equipment, and we walked down an alley. Karl wanted the contrast between her over-the-top beauty and the ghetto, the juxtaposition of heaven and hell. Kiki Sunshine had a train, a makeup box the size of carry-on luggage, filled with top-of-the-line products, at least three thousand dollars' worth of products.

I envied that. She had the best makeup I'd ever seen.

Three thousand in makeup, a brand-new truck with sparkling rims, thousands spent in her apartment, and she chose to do all of that over using that money to buy her a piece of land first.

To each his own.

If that was her addiction, it was her right. Not the smartest thing, but still her right.

I touched up her makeup, the same for her hair, neither really needing anything done, just playing my part. Karl took a few shots while I worked on her face, a face that didn't need much work at all. Kiki Sunshine loved the camera, was smooth, seemed like all Karl had to do was point and shoot.

Around thirty shots later we were on the road again.

Karl asked Kiki Sunshine, "You grew up over here?"

"On East Florida Street and South Benbow Road."

"What's over that way?"

"Nothing much. Barber Park."

"Cool park?"

"I can take you over to Barber. Should be empty this time of day."

Her cellular rang. She looked at the number and answered.

"Hey, Momma...uh-huh...yeah I heard Rose Furniture was about to close for good...okay...I can run you out there...okay...working now...let me call you later...love you."

She hung up.

Kiki Sunshine said, "That was my momma. Always wanting to go shopping. Working my nerves."

I asked, "You went to school around here?"

"Went to Bennett for a while. Started off in arts management with a minor in psychology, then switched to mathematics with a minor in computer science, wanted to run a web-based ser vice, a Yahoo! or YouTube kind of thing. Ran out of money at the start of my senior year. Family drama and stuff left me in a bad way. Got into entertaining. Never made it back."

I didn't ask her to expound on what field of entertainment she had ventured into.

We rode around the neighborhood, Kiki Sunshine pointing out different landmarks, telling who used to live where, this side of town being the area where poverty ruled and white people looked like an endangered species, riding and listening to Eddie Murphy on Sirius, laughing at his Aunt Bunny Gooney-Goo-Goo routine. We rode to East Florida Street, ended up at Barber Park. We passed the entrance, driving slowly, looking for spots. Karl parked in an area that had foliage on both sides of the road, giving us shade and about thirty yards of privacy before the street ended at another major intersection.

Very scenic. Lots of tree coverage at the mouth of the park. Rolling vegetation that went on for miles. Kiki Sunshine went into the trees, the sun high, creating slivers of light on her commanding body as she stepped over branches, leaves, went deep enough into the thicket to be unseen from the road. She took her clothes off, swapped her high heels for Roman sandals.

Kiki showed her sunshine with no shame.

She was as naked as Eve. And comfortable with undressing in front of strangers. Karl was at ease, as if a beautiful woman being unclothed in front of him was part of the business.

She asked, "How's this?"

Karl laughed a small laugh. "You could've waited to get undressed."

"Don't want to get my clothes too dirty. Those pants came from Dillard's."

Karl nodded. "Give me a few minutes to make a call and get what I need out the back."

I asked, "Want me to carry anything?"

"Just take care of the talent."

"Okay. I'll be the good little assistant and have Miss Kiki Sunshine ready."

I made my way over the grass, moved over limbs, went to Kiki Sunshine, took her clothes from her, let them rest over my shoulder, played the role of assistant, the role I was, at this moment, enjoying.

I told her, "Let me check your makeup."

She had too much shine, this humidity being impossible, and I powdered her skin.

She continued to stare at my face, continued dissecting me.

I asked, "You okay?"

"Do you model?"

"Nope."

"You look like a model."

"Be still so I can get rid of the shine on your nose."

I used my fingers to pull her hair back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, let it rest slightly off to one side. Used a rubber band that matched her hair color to hold the style in place. Added rose hairpins. She owned beautiful jewelry. Pearl chokers, tapered gold rings, golden shoes, three-row crystal head wraps, so many headbands I thought she might be heir to some headband manufacturer.

She said, "Karl is fine as hell."

"Very appealing."

"Looks better in person than he did on his Web site and MySpace page. His eyes...good lord...he has to be mixed with a lot of stuff to look that doggone good. Bet he could make some pretty babies."

I didn't respond. Kiki Sunshine was so pretty it was intimidating. She'd have to suffer a severe industrial accident to have her beauty diminished to the level of normal people.

She caught me staring at her. I looked away, made myself busy doing my job.

She asked, "How did you get this job?"

"He interviewed me at the W."

I put a classic band on her, kept it simple, then I painted her lips. Used a hue that worked with her skin's cool undertones. Lined and filled in her lips with nude lip pencil to keep the color from bleeding. Used a lip brush to apply lipstick, then blotted with a tissue. When I was done, I moved out of the way.

I said, "Brazilian, huh?"

"On my momma side."

"You're a beautiful woman."

She paused, then gave me a nervous smile. "I'm not a lesbian, if that's what you're asking."

"Wasn't trying to...no, not at all. Was just saying you're beautiful. Not trying to offend."

My defenses rose. Maybe I had been gazing at her beauty the way Anais Nin stared at June's loveliness. Her perfection had caused me to pause and appreciate what was before my eyes.

She smiled a little. "Thanks."

I took my eyes off her, then shrugged. "I guess you look like the type of woman that women would be attracted to. I'm not talking about lesbian attraction, I'm talking about heterosexual women would be attracted to you. Like women are attracted to Angelina Jolie or Salma Hayek or Halle Berry."

"Thank you."

"That's all I meant. Your beauty is universal."

"Universal?"

"Men would want you, and women would want to be a woman like you."

"You really think I'm beautiful? Because you are really beautiful to me."

"What ever. You're tall. You have a nice body. People from all over the world would hit on you."

"Well, since you put it that way, yeah." She winked at me. "Women have hit on me."

"I'm not surprised."

"I love men, but I have dabbled a time or two."

"Dabbled?"

"You know. Dabbled."

"Oh. Dabbled. Gotcha."

"Now you got me thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about. This girl I knew, she loved to go down on me. Never went down on her. I'd wake up with her face between my legs."

"Sounds hot." I smiled, hummed, imagined. "Outside of the obvious, how was it different?"

"You never dabbled?"

"Never dabbled."

"It's nice. Real nice. Guys fuck you. That's not a bad thing. Nothing like the way a man feels." She laughed. "Chicks caress you. A woman has a smaller tongue, smaller hands. It's different."

I looked at her. Again she smiled at me, her smile unhidden, penetrating.

She asked, "You sure you never dabbled?"

"Don't tell me I look like a lesbian."

"Not at all. Just asking. On the real. You ever tried it?"

I shook my head. "Never dabbled."

"Not even a girl kiss?"

I chuckled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Can't help it. The girl I used to deal with back in the day, you look like her. A lot."

"The Yasamin Kincade girl?"

"Yeah. Freaked out when I pulled up in the lot at Groometown Road. Heart started beating all fast. Thought you were her. Heart was beating too damn fast."

"But I'm not."

She shook her head at me. "Now you all up in my face looking like my girl, got me thinking about my other experiences. Got me thinking about stuff I'd put behind me a long time ago."

"With women?"

"With Yasamin Kincade. My black and Lebanese freak. She used to dance at Baby Doll down off Highway 29 and she sold real estate over in Charlotte. We messed around for a while. Off and on. I mean, I always had a boyfriend. She was in the background. A side dish, not the main course. Didn't want to get hooked on doing something like that."

"Were you here when you were dealing with her?"

"Charlotte. We'd meet halfway, in Kannapolis, or I'd drive down to Charlotte. Never let her come here. She'd put me up downtown at the Omni. Or I'd go to her house late at night, real nice house, but most of the time I'd tell her to get us a room. Greensboro is a small town. People get all in your business. Lot of people from up here drive down to work in Charlotte every day. Word gets around."

"I bet."

"For my birthday, Yasamin Kincade sent a doggone lime to pick me up and bring me back to Charlotte. We spent the night at the Omni, rose petals and champagne all night long, and then she rented a convertible Benz and drove me to Caravelle Resorts out at Myrtle Beach, drove three hours with the top down and the music bumping. She had planned everything, paid for the entire weekend."

"Spoiled you."

"Hadn't thought about her in a while."

"Where did you meet her?"

"Met in Charlotte. During race week. She loved NASCAR, just like me. She was actually flirting with my boyfriend. I thought she was trying to get with him, but she was just trying to get my attention. She gave me her real estate card, tried to get my phone number, told me she wanted me to be with her. She wrote it on the back of the business card she gave me. Said I was irresistible. Said she wanted to be with me."

"How did you end up hooking up with her?"

"Her fine butt kept calling my job. Kept telling me she wanted to French kiss my downtown lips."