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By working girls, we don't mean hookers, though these will infiltrate the Doubletree as well. She is a tall, thin woman of a decent age (48) who is all legs and poise and attitude.(It gets a little tricky, because the and the "working girls" tend to dress alike. We meet several weeks before All-Star weekend over a too precious breakfast at Philadelphia's Lacroix restaurant at the Rittenhouse Hotel to talk about blow jobs and basketball players.But the Girls from Room 506 go straight to the front of the line. "Spring for dinner in the main dining room," Brenda says.DJ SS—an enormously fat and jolly man whom they got to be friends with by working the circuit long enough—has them rigged for the night. Renee strikes a pose as they walk into the ballroom. "Be there waiting with a girlfriend who is equally fine, for when the players walk in." (Memo to wannabe Groupies: It's always the visiting team that's looking to get laid. The first sport to embrace hip-hop has essentially been hijacked by hip-hop.There is also an enormous can of Lysol, because a girl can never be too prepared. (Except for Chermaine, who's a new addition to the group.) As usual, they're sharing a standard-size hotel room with two double beds (neither of which can be found at the moment, under the mountains of metallic debris), but they have a system down if one of them happens to score. If one of them should deign to bring a man ("or a nice thug," says Renee) back to the room, the others cool their heels in the hotel-lobby bar until she's finished. Danielle is in a size 18 gold-sequined tube top, tight-tight jeans, and a denim jacket, all trimmed in gold, with a gold bag and gold pumps.Renee, the bubbly, vivacious one, used to patrol housing projects in Queens but just got promoted. She's also the single mother of a 9-year-old girl. They work hard at it all year—the long nights in clubs, the occasional out-of-town field trip. Vellesha is in a supertight strapless denim outfit with faux-fur trim, from "the fat-girl store" Ashley Stewart.
Marbury, as well as his wife, was none too thrilled with Thomas's literary debut, in which a vast assortment of (allegedly fictional) women spend a great deal of time on their knees, in service to the NBA., sometimes right there in the parking lot.Danielle—the "proud to be extra-large" girl whose penchant for talking has earned her the nickname Diesel ("for the diesel heavy gas," says Renee, "because when she starts running she never stops")—is a New York City subway conductor. And has the don't-fuck-with-me-or-I'll-smack-your-white-ass attitude we've come to appreciate in New York City bus drivers. Then there's Chermaine, the baby of the litter at 23, pretty, slender, and terribly shy (until she puts on a bustier). They have a stack of photographs to document their brushes with greatness: the girls with Mike Tyson, the girls with Nelly and Nelly's entourage, the girls with Doug E. And Chermaine, shy Chermaine, has her boobs poured into a bustier, creating a shelf that could easily hold a tray of drinks. "We need go-cups for the road." They refill their cups, make a quick pit stop at the ice machine, and teeter down to the lobby in five-inch heels.Moments later, with Vellesha, the bus driver, behind the wheel, we are idling at a stoplight in Houston when a police car pulls close.What happens if we get pulled over in Houston with enormous Styrofoam cups filled with Grey Goose and Apple Pucker? "You gotta pay to play," says one Fly Girl I meet over drinks at Dave Buster's in Houston who does not wish to be identified.A half hour later, revved up and ready for action, the girls pull in to the parking garage of a Renaissance Hotel on the outskirts of Houston. Paying to play means spending a small fortune on the appropriate accoutrements: designer clothes, shoes, bags, and hair extensions from the right salon.