Читать книгу Ghetto Girls - Anthony Whyte - Страница 10

FOUR

Nearly ten years ago Deedee entered Eric’s life. She was close to her sixth birthday. Her father, Dennis Ascot was the older brother of Eric. He was found mortally wounded, a bullet-hole to the back of his head. All the money and contracts were stolen from his attaché case. Sophia knew that the police treated the incident as a drug deal that went bad. The investigation went as far as tailing Eric around town and keeping steady watch on his apartment. Eric Ascot tried as best to clear his brother’s name but to no avail. Within six months, the investigation was officially closed despite Eric’s persistent protesting.

After that Eric Ascot became Deedee’s guardian, and then achieved sole rights to guardianship when her mother became preoccupied with crack. When Sophia met them, Eric and his niece seemed happy with each other. It was, “My uncle this and my uncle that.” Eric enjoyed the adoration of his niece, and Deedee seemed determined at first to keep her uncle all to herself.

She kept close tabs on Sophia, but Sophia’s plan was foolproof: Take Deedee shopping as often as possible. Keep her happy and win her over without trying to be her mother. She knew how much Eric cared for Deedee. Now she understood the pain that would haunt him since his niece had been assaulted. Sophia walked over and hugged Eric.

“She’s sleeping. She’s tough. She’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, I hope so, Sophia,” Eric said. He held her hand for a while then pulled her near. They kissed briefly and she watched as the pain eased away from his face, the scowl now replaced by the semblance of a smile. However, thoughts of his niece still wore heavily on his mind.

Deedee was in bed, staring into a wall of nothingness. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, but remembered the Mercedes sitting at the end of the driveway.

Such a pretty car, she thinks. So black that it glows. The noise of the car alarm prompts her to get the keys and deactivate it. She gets in it. Maybe, I should move it closer. Or maybe I could take it around the block just one time. It won’t hurt. But she has to go downtown. Maybe check out some spots, meet up with some friends—Coco and her crew. They’ll love the ride. Everyone is happy; everything is fine. Her uncle won’t be back until the following day. He’ll never know. Pick up some cigarettes, and no drinking while driving. Her guide drank some, actually a lot. “Hey chill with the bottle, chill.” Coco and Da Crew perform. They’re fabulous, graceful, exciting. Drinking at the club stops make her sloppy. She’s trying to make it back to the car, with or without a guide. She is outside. It’s a jungle. There are wild animals chasing each other. She barely sees the Mercedes now. There’s something after her or the Mercedes. Deedee runs and screams. It’s to no avail. Her throat acts as a barrier to the sound. The man-beast catches up with her.

“I want you and da fucking car,” roars the beast. It has a face she barely recognizes.

“Back off, vultures!” yells the man-beast.

Then the beast grabs her. She screams, but fright muffles the sound. The hand begins to maul her, she tries fighting back, but she is much too small, and her limbs won’t respond. She is trying to scream, but there’s no sound. The beast clutches her and pins her to the hood of the Mercedes. Then the thing growls and enters her. Deedee fights back with long vicious scratching, her nails strong as talons. The flesh of the beast begins to fall apart. She grows stronger, and the beast retreats. But out comes the man. It is Deja, from the club. She screams violently.

“Get away! Stay away!” She yells. Her uncle and Sophia burst through the door. “Please don’t hurt me anymore,” she cries.

“Deedee it’s me. I’m here baby. It will be alright, it’ll be alright,” Eric shouted as he hugged the girl. “You were having a bad dream.”

“I’ll get her something to drink,” Sophia said. She ran downstairs, to the kitchen.

“Uncle E., Uncle E.,” Deedee cried. “He was trying to rape me again.”

“Who was gonna do that to you, baby?”

“This thing was chasing me and Deja was gonna rape me again.”

“Deja?” Her uncle asked with bewilderment. “Who’s Deja?”

Sophia carefully handed Deedee a glass of milk. Deedee gulped twice, then excused herself and went into the bathroom. She felt the scrutiny as two pairs of concerned eyes followed her there. Once inside, she washed her face and checked her body. The bruises and marks were quite visible. Deedee looked at her face close-up, and noticed all the welts and gashes under her nose and above her eyes. Scabs were already forming over the smaller wounds. She decided not to look anymore—each time she did so, more bruises seemed to appear. But Deedee knew that these smaller bruises didn’t really matter. The biggest wound would not heal. It would last forever.

“Hey what’s up?” Da Crew shouted when they met in the school hallway. They were happy to see each other. The weekend was finally over. All the girls had stayed with their families and spoken with each other on the phone. Danielle and Josephine used their parents’ phones. Coco called from the phone on the corner.

“I’ve got a test, yo. Got to go. Catch up wit y’all later.”

“Coco,” it was Mrs. Martinez.

“Yes, Mrs. Martinez.”

“Girls, I heard a report of a carjacking and rape. It happened to a student I know in this school.”

The girls stared at each other, revealing no surprise, but a lot of interest.

“It happened over the weekend,” Mrs. Martinez continued. Then the questions came. “Do you girls know anything about what happened?”

“No-o-o,” the chorus followed as the three girls walked away.

“Well the police think you do.” Mrs. Martinez had to shout to be heard.

“We told them everything,” Coco shouted back.

“We’ve got to get to class,” Danielle said. She was most famous for her variety of late excuses.

“I’ll see y’all,” repeated Coco. Her oversize denim jacket and blue jeans sagged, and the black knapsack on her back moved with a slight bop as Coco made her way to the classroom.

Damn, hope I can ace this test, she thought, taking her seat. She slipped off the knapsack and jacket with a single move. She was ready to begin the High School Regents Examination.

Coco finished the test in three hours flat. She had always been a good student, always read and did her homework, and her grades reflected that hard work. Schoolwork afforded her the perfect escape from her volatile mother.

“Good luck,” the examiner said with a smile. Coco handed her the pile of test papers. She retrieved her jacket and knapsack and nodded as she headed for the door. She made tracks down the hallway with that familiar bop.

“Peace,” someone called after her.

“Peace,” acknowledged Coco. She immediately reached for her cigarettes but put them away as she remembered the signs posted in the school’s hallways.

NO SMOKING ALLOWED

Coco spotted Josephine and Danielle and motioned for them to join her.

“Think they got the report, yo?” Coco already knew the answer.

“Yep, most def,” Josephine replied.

“How else would they know?” Danielle added.

“You know what, yo?” Coco continued. “We should stay da fuck out of this. You feel me?”

“You mean mind our biz, shut our mouths? Cool by me,” Josephine said with a wink.

“Can’t even remember what girlfriend looked like,” Coco chuckled.

“But weren’t you the one who was pledging to do something for da sisterhood?” Danielle asked.

“Okay, alright. Y’all didn’t have to go there, but you did. Ahight, I can vaguely remember some of it. I was caught up in the situation. I got emotional, so I flipped. I’m allowed to flip and talk shit, right? Okay, then that’s it, yo. Listen, I’ve got these dope lyrics.”

“Yeah right, let’s hear them, then.” Josephine and Danielle both responded with avid anticipation.

“Ahight, let’s get busy,” Coco said. “But let’s get da fuck outta here.”

The girls put their silver-rimmed dark shades on and made their way out of the school building as if paparazzi awaited them. Danielle waved and blew a kiss to someone. Coco put a cigarette to her lips and turned her back to the wind to light it. She took a drag and passed it to Danielle.

“Hold this, yo.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a carefully folded white sheet.

“Here’s some of the dopest lyrics you’re gonna hear anywhere,” she announced.

The girls paused to listen.

“It’s called ‘You Played Yourself.’” Coco began to half-hum, half-sing a slow-tempo number.

“Go ahead, go ahead girl,” Da Crew chanted. Coco continued more loudly now:

One day, one day You’re gonna fade away And I won’t need you Anyway, cause you’d have been played like the sucker punk You showed me you are. That day when you Played, played yourself You have played yourself You’ve played yourself Like dirty old Huggies Boy, get off my set I don’t want you Fucking up my environment Now that all your mother fucking money’s spent.

“Yo, right there—right after ‘mothafucking money’s spent,’—y’all kick in like this, ‘Huh, yeah now all the cheddar’s gone. Wishing you was never born’, ” Coco explained to Da Crew.

“Wait up. Back da fuck up. All we say is, ‘huh now all the cheddar’s gone…wishing you was never born?’” Josephine complained. “That’s it? Well, the shit sounds like it had some potential. But we gotta be saying more than just one line. Or that’s wack.”

“I agree with Jo. And also it sounds like some kinda suicide Tracy Chapman song. Do you think people will start blaming us when they start jumping from buildings?” Danielle asked.

“I could see it now,” Josephine deadpanned. “This just in—A trio of men leaped from a thirty- story apartment building in the city after listening to the lyrics of Coco’s latest song.”

“Oh, so y’all gonna bail on the P.H. tip? Ahight, Kool ‘n’ da Gang then, yo.” Coco said.

“Seriously, it has potential, but it needs a little work,” Josephine said with mock-tenderness. “I don’t think it will sell in today’s market, anyway. All the songs that hitting are songs about lick me up and lick me down, bump and grind. Shit…you know wit sex on the platter. You feel me? You can’t even get a hit with something that is positive for sisters.” Josephine concluded.

“Uh-oh, here we go with the sister shit again. Here, smoke some more,” Danielle said as she passed the last half of the cigarette to Coco.

“Ahight yo, if y’all wanna just keep dancing and singing other people’s old stuff, then we’re a group of—”

“A group of what?” Danielle asked.

“Imitators. There’s nothing original about our stuff.” Coco said with so much disdain that the other girls took exception to the statement.

“Yeah, but damn near everyone sez we’ve got the dopest steps. Come on, we got a little sump’n, sump’n.” Josephine added.

“Yeah, well I think we’ve got more. Lots more skills than we’re showing, yo. More dance moves. It’s in us, we just gotta find a way to bring it.” Coco said.

“It takes time to happen. We’ve got to get more popular,” Josephine said.

“I thought that’s why we did the club gigs on the weekends and the talent shows at school. That’s to bring us out there to the public.” Coco took a drag on the cigarette before continuing.

“No doubt. We’ve got to establish a fan base. Then start beating ‘em in their heads with joints after joints.”

“We can’t serve up no trash. Heads will walk.” Josephine said with a stiff upper lip. “No matter who you are no one is gonna support garbage all the time.”

“We need a record deal. We could sing and do our own videos. We wouldn’t just be dancing in other people’s videos. We would be starring in our own joints, yo. Think about it,” Coco said elatedly. She took the last drag and flicked the butt away, over the heads of the other girls. They listened intently. “We need someone to make the beats for us, yo,” Coco said.

“Yeah, and some lyrics,” Danielle said.

“Get a brother who could rap and we would be in it like that,” Josephine said, snapping her fingers.

“Not just any brother. We gotta have a brother who has thug appeal and who can rhyme wit da hardcore Ghetto steez,” Danielle agreed.

“Who do we know like that, y’all?” Josephine asked.

“There’s Silky Black, Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre…” Danielle started but Coco interrupted.

“Like this and like that and this and a creep to the next episode. Niggas be creeping and they creeping and they creeping. They ain’t gonna stop trying till we let them in…” Coco sang and high-five the girls.

“Like I said before she came through the door, who do we know like that?” Josephine asked.

“We now know Eric Ascot’s niece.” Danielle said and the other girls gave her the wide eyed look. “You know the one with the ride,” she added.

“Let’s not even go there, yo. Leave it alone,” Coco said. But her plea seemed too weak and didn’t convince Josephine or Danielle. Neither said anything, but somehow the discussion ended on an unsettling note. “Let’s go get sump’n to eat and work on our steps.” Coco suggested. She turned away sharply, avoiding further discussion. Coco folded the paper with her lyrics and placed it in her Jansport. They headed for McDonald’s about three hundred feet away. She stopped suddenly as if reconsidering, and said, “Let’s make tracks to da chicken place, yo. I feel like some chicken, today.”

Both Josephine and Danielle had caught up with her. They watched Coco, who continued with her bop. She slowly reached for a cigarette and stepped into a doorway to light it. The wind was brisk on this bright and sunny Monday, blowing the litter around the sidewalk in a swirl. Each time a pile landed, the wind would blow again, and the litter would float once more, and then settle again.

The girls walked to the chicken place, hands in pockets, shades over their eyes, thoughts shrouded in silence. They ordered chicken and biscuits. Coco opted for honey with her chicken.

“Why do you always get damn honey with your chicken?” Josephine asked. “That’s some straight down south shit,” she continued.

“The fried chicken just taste a little bit better when it’s sweetened. Anyways—” Before they could fully discuss honey and chicken, a schoolmate came by and asked about the upcoming talent show and contest.

“Y’all entering the talent jump-off, that Busta be throwing urr-year?” The teen asked.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll be on in about two weeks,” Josephine said.

“Y’all should stomp the comp, but good luck, ahight.” The teen said and walked away. He rejoined a group from the school.

“Good-looking out,” Josephine and Danielle both chorused. Coco looked up momentarily, but said nothing. She continued chewing and nodded at the questioner, who was leaving with both of his friends and said:

“Now you know these scrubs were testing their game, yo… Niggas.” She stretched out the last syllable then Coco broke out in laughter.

“They weren’t bad looking though, were they?” Josephine asked.

“Yeah, but y’all attract ‘em like honey to a bee,” Coco said.

“Well, their pickup line was kinda corny,” Josephine said.

“Speaking of pickup, I need to pick up on my calc. The test is Wednesday.” Coco said.

“Aw c’mon, Coco, you know you don’t have to study that hard. You’re one good lyric away from being a musical genius and a couple of tests from being on scholarship,” Josephine said.

“Just trying to be all I can be, yo.” Coco replied.

“Aw, listen to her,” Danielle said. “Now you trying to be modest?” There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

“Not your usual ‘we-gonna-get-mad-paid,’” Josephine joked.

“Huh uh, now she’s all ‘I’ma-do-sumthin’-for-da-sista,’” Danielle laughed.

“Y’all dead wrong. You know I be on the DL, yo,” Coco said.

“Yeah, but up on stage you swear your ass is the boss, Miss Diana Ross. You be playing it,” Danielle said. She was sounding critical of Coco’s style of singing and dancing.

“That’s not true. I just do my thing, yo. I just be getting mine.”

“Yeah, yours and everyone else’s,” Danielle said. “There’s no ‘i’ in team.”

Coco faced Danielle and gave her deep, cold stare.

“Are you for real?” Coco asked at last. Her tone was over the top, serious. Danielle immediately knew she had crossed a line, but wouldn’t back down. Josephine, in the middle, grew uneasy. The silence lengthened.

“This food really sucks,” Josephine said. “I think maybe we should bounce, y’all?”

“Now, I’m gonna ask,” Coco said. “We are a group, rrright?” she purred like Eartha Kitt.

“Y’all gonna fight over some bullshit? C’mon,” Josephine said playing peacemaker.

“We a group, right, yo?” Coco repeated.

“Yeah we’re a group,” Danielle said, “and everything should be equal—including time at lead.”

“Well, it’s good that you brought it up,” Coco said. “Cuz I don’t wanna be running around with peeps who suppose to be down wid ya, yet keeping shit behind ya back.”

Josephine’s half-smile faded. Tension was at an all time high. Coco’s lips curled as if they were trying to touch her nose. Her reversed baseball cap made her look angry. She stood street fierce like someone ready to pop-off on any challenger—A bully, only a lot prettier than most.

Danielle was the hunted, caught but not fully captured. She was confident about the avenue of escape. With her light brown hair and cool dark eyes, Danielle appeared to be calm under Coco’s intense pressure. In the group, Danielle moved with athletic grace on stage. Her trained body always invited the movements, turns and rhythms of motion. Her voice was always ready to shout and share the chorus. Now Danielle wanted to be a lead, if she could weather the storm Coco was ready to bring.

“But Coco is the lead,” Josephine said. “We build off of her. I mean we can’t always change the lead. Have you ever witnessed a lead change in like say, SWV? They always have the same person singing, and they don’t do so badly.”

“Yeah, maybe she’s the only one who can really sing,” Danielle deadpanned. “Yeah what about, the Spice Girls?” She asked.

“Yeah, and what about them?” Coco demanded.

“They don’t count. They ain’t even Hip Hop you don’t stop.” Josephine opined.

“Ahight, okay yo. Cool,” Coco said reflecting, “if that’s what it’s all about then we’ll practice the routine with everyone at lead. Is that ahight with y’all?”

“Yep, me personally, I’d rather try it that way.” Danielle agreed.

“No, no. I’m cool with all that. But I’m saying, someone has to follow. That’s me. I’m not taking it personal,” Josephine said.

“It’s not a matter of taking it personal, Jo.” Danielle was about to conclude, but Coco interrupted.

“You’re taking it that way. Why else would we be sitting here arguing about this bullshit then, yo?”

“I’m just saying…” Danielle was about to speak but Coco impatiently cut her off.

“Just saying what, yo?” Coco asked and sat down.

Josephine jumped in. “You’re just saying that you want to lead sometimes, and Coco said okay. Me, I say yeah. Now, can we just end this? I’m getting a damn headache. It’s about a record deal, y’all. Right now we’ve got nothing so we just fighting for crumbs.” Josephine said and glanced at her two friends who were still ready to lock horns. “What’s the matter with y’all?” Josephine finally asked.

“Ain’t nothing the matter. I’m allowed to give my opinion on the group which I help get started, right? When are we starting these practices?” Danielle asked.

“Let’s do it now, yo,” Coco said.

The words sounded more like a challenge than an arrangement for rehearsal. They all rose. The sound of skidding chairs signaled their fate like the bell that begins a round in boxing. Suddenly Coco remembered her calculus test.

“No, I think we better wait ‘til tomorrow. I’ve really got to study and tighten up on da calculus thing, yo. We could do this tomorrow. I still wanna go to a good college for free; know what I mean, yo?”

“Yeah, cool,” Danielle said. “This kid’s beeping me, anyway.”

She checked the incoming message on the pager, worn next to her navel. Her blue jeans were a little tighter than the other girls wore. She had a slender body that connected in a voluptuous form. Danielle flaunted it, she made no attempt to hide her beautiful assets.

The fact is Danielle accentuated it by continually showing up in outrageous combinations. She was light-skinned, could have passed. Even the Spanish people would always try to converse with her in their native tongue. Danielle rushed to the pay phone. Her manicured fingers eagerly dialed the digits from the pager.

“Hi Cory,” she said.

Coco shouldered her knapsack, lit another cigarette, and headed to the door. She threw a peace sign to Danielle, whose eyes shifted just in time to catch it. Danielle nodded.

Coco and Josephine walked to the bus stop in silence. Coco puffed, her right hand clinging to the cigarette like a drunk about to throw a dart.

“What do you think it is?” Josephine asked, finally breaking the silence. She had been thinking about the incident at lunch. Coco flipped the cigarette away. It spiraled through the air and into a puddle. The water doused the fire and soaked into the cigarette butt, turning the puddle into an ashtray.

“I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” Coco said.

“The little skit at the chicken place,” Josephine reminded Coco. “Or am I bugging?”

“You probably bugging, yo,” Coco said.

“No, you and that bitch, Danielle were going at it. I guess she thinks she deserves more props.”

“That bitch gets all the props from her boyfriends,” Coco said as a mischievous smile appeared.

“No, you didn’t go there like that?” Josephine rejoined. “I mean, personally if you asked me, I think she’s been drinking way too much.”

“We all have our turn when we take a nip of sump’n, sump’n.” Coco said in Danielle’s defense.

“Way too much,” Josephine said. “And when she does, it’s not like you.”

“Like me? Whatchu getting ready to say, yo?” Coco asked.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean she can’t control herself. She always be getting wild and loud. For a while at the chicken place, I thought she had a little nip of that damn Alize.” Josephine laughed. “She’s always saying: ‘Me and my man split a glass of Thug Passion.” Josephine mocked Danielle’s way of speaking. Coco laughed easily, it wasn’t hard to tell that she had calm down after that bout at the chicken spot.

“She better check herself,” Coco said.

“And don’t wreck herself,” Josephine added. Both girls laughed as they made tracks to the bus stop.

“I’m gonna take a walk over to the library next to her place. It’s real quiet in there, yo.”

“You know you’re always welcome to study at my place. Dad is never home and my mom won’t mind.” Josephine offered.

“No, that’s okay. But thanks, Jo.” Coco said.

The bus pulled up. Both girls showed passes and took seats. Coco reached for her headphones. Josephine watched as the huge tires of the bus splattered the puddle and the water-logged cigarette. With a turn of the wheel, both became nothing. Coco and Josephine watched passengers board and leave the bus. As it moved uptown, fewer suits and ties got on and more got off. Then it was Coco’s stop.

“Don’t study too hard, girlfriend. Wednesday is rehearal,” Josephine said.

She offered her fist, pointing to Coco. Coco touched fists and left the bus. Her bop came to life as she neared the brown glass doors of the gray library. She stopped to catch a smoke.

Danielle is just being a bitch, she thought. I know she ain’t even close to me in dancing, and the bitch definitely can’t sing. All she does is swing her long hair in your face. That’s the reason I had to move up to the front. Anyway, people know I’m the lead. They know. Maybe that’s the reason she hangs out with so many boys. She trying to win a popularity contest. Well, if it’s a contest she wants, she’s coming to the right one.

Coco flicked the cigarette away. Now she wished she had-n’t put off rehearsal until Wednesday. But the calculus test was tomorrow, and she wanted to score high. Coco walked into the library, still dwelling on Danielle’s petty lunchtime outburst. She thinks she’s all that. We’ll see.

“A-h-h-h,” she breathed as she sat down and pulled her calculus book out of her knapsack. Too bad I can’t study at home, she thought. I could study and just fall asleep. This place is mad quiet. Wish I could take it home.

Calculus began. She let it take over her mind, and after a couple of hours it was over. She shouldered the knapsack and headed for the bus stop. On the way, she spotted Danielle and her new boyfriend.

“Hi. What are you doing around these parts?” Danielle asked. She already knew the answer.

“Trying to set up one of these nice apartments,” Coco said.

“Be careful. There are plenty of cops around here. You don’t want to mess around and get caught,” said the boyfriend. There was lipstick all over his mouth, but he seemed alright. And he was good looking.

“Oh, Coco, this is Cory. Cory, this Coco, my ace boon,” Danielle said sounding a little giddy.

“Hi, what’s popping, Cory,” Coco said. “I gotta bounce. Here comes my bus.”

“Wait-up Coco, I’ll give you a ride. I mean, Cory’s driving, and we just gotta go get a bottle of Alize. I’m sure—”

“Nah, that’s all good, yo. You guys go ahead and do what y’all were gonna do. I’m gonna catch this bus. Nice to see ya. Peace.”

The bus came, and she got on. Now she’s gonna get real nice, like nothing happened, thought Coco. Fuck her and her ride. That’s what that nigga getting ready to do, anyway. Lipstick all over his face

Damn! She almost said it out loud. The bus lurched forward, and Coco fell back into the seat. Her thoughts switched to home. What kind of mood is Mom gonna be in? She wondered as she got off the bus and moved toward the broken glass doors of the dirty brick building. The crack-heads lurched in and out. Home, sweet home, she thought as she pushed by them and into the building.

“Hi, Coco,” they shouted.

“Peace,” she said, without turning around. She headed for the elevator, but the sign on the door read: ‘Out of Service.’

“Shit!” Coco trudged to the stairwell and up the stairs. She reached the apartment door where a sign should be posted: You’re now entering hell, Coco thought. The peephole looked as if it was made by a stray bullet. Let’s see what the devil’s gonna cook up this evening. Maybe she’ll be too drunk to deal with life. Coco’s mind tried to enter before her body. This type of mind-game prepared her for whatever came next: Think it’s worse, maybe it’ll be better.

A door squeaked open. It was Miss Katie, the widow from 3D. Her apartment was toward the entrance of the building and from her window she could see both corners of the streets below.

“Hi Coco. How are you doing?” Ms. Katie asked. “It’s been about a month now, right Coco?”

“Yes, Miss Katie,” Coco answered politely. It was not her usual style, but Katie Patterson was different from the other neighbors. She was in her fifty’s and still looked young and bright. Her husband was killed in Viet Nam, she would say during times she allowed herself to talk about him. Coco knew him only as Sgt. Patterson. Miss Katie didn’t sit around moping; she went back to college and earned her bachelor’s degree.

Coco admired her greatly for accomplishing that. Miss Katie did this while raising and sending her children, Roxy and Robert, to none other than Princeton University. Coco smiled at Miss Katie, who deserved a lot of respect and love. The teen gladly gave it up to the elderly lady.

“Well, I’m pleased to report that she didn’t go down to the dens today,” Miss Katie reported, as if she was reciting her daily orders.

“That’s good news,” Coco beamed. She’d been getting that account since her mother came out of drug rehab a month ago and was continuing counseling on an out-patient basis.