How to Be Famous in Ten Easy Steps

As the doorman escorted the entourage around the side, he didn't even bother asking any of them for the $10 cover. He knew better.

But that's about when the VIP treatment screeched to a halt. Trent Steele was escorted to a straight-backed couch along the wall, right next to another group of guys. He was expected to sit with the commoners.

Daniel Kramer

Trent Steele takes one in the stomach...

Daniel Kramer

...and disappears into the night.

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"What do you mean you don't have cherries?" Simmons said in disbelief.

Trent Steele had a feeling of dread in his stomach. There weren't any cherries. His phone hadn't rung for days. He was broke. The only thing he could afford to do was dance.

Luckily, the gratuitous hot chicks were happy to oblige. They led Trent Steele onto the floor full of throbbing bodies and pounding breakbeats. Knowing that this dance would be their last, they pulled out all the stops. Sweat can be so sweet, especially when it's someone else's.

With a quick flick of the hand, Trent Steele summoned his posse and headed for the door. It was time to retire. Even fake players need a little bit of dough.

Trent Steele walked out of the Roxy and into a lit parking garage. He flipped open his cell and turned the corner.

Lesson 10: Never fade away

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steele said to the two men standing before him. One was tall and lean, the other short and stocky. They were walking caricatures of Quentin Tarantino characters.

"You know why we're here," said Omar, the lanky one. "Jerry needs his money."

"Fuck you," spat Steele. "You've got no right to bother me when I'm out. Tell Jerry he'll get his money when he gets it."

"I think you need to come with us," Omar said, grabbing Trent's arm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" yelled Steele.

Trent Steele didn't see the blow coming. Doubled over and gasping for air, he was punched again, this time in the back of the head, and spun around. His entourage, all very hip but all very frail, looked on with gaping jaws.

Trent Steele was pummeled and dragged toward a white van. The two brutes tossed him in and slammed the doors. Tires screeched and women screamed.

Trent Steele was never seen again.

Trent Steele now parties with Tupac and Elvis in that great big VIP lounge in the sky. He will be missed, but I think I can live without him.