Читать книгу Ghetto Girls - Anthony Whyte - Страница 8

TWO

The black Benz sat idle on chromes at a stop light on the corner of 125th Street and Broadway. Coco let the window down and they heard the charming chant of the neighborhood weed dealer.

“Hold up, who dat?” Coco barked.

“Cheeba . Cheeba Coco puff ....” The rhythmic chant of the hoarse voice was followed by a dry cough.

“What’s up, Deja?” Coco greeted the weed dealer with a smile.

“I got some serious shit, Coco. It’s all that. No bullshit, no lie. You wanna give it a try?” Deja asked in a melodious tone that brought sweet music to Coco’s ear, and a five-dollar bill out of her pocket.

Deja shoved a small plastic bag in Coco’s right hand. Coco examined the bag, and the smell of chocolate engulfed the interior of the car.

“Peace, Deja. It looks good.” Coco grinned as Deedee hit the accelerator and the car screeched away. “Damn, I hope he buys some breath mints or sees a dentist, yo. His breath was kicking, yo!”

“Hell yeah, I hear you. I wanna know why’d you let him get all up in your face, girl?” Josephine chimed in from the back seat. “We were all trying to hold our breath. His breath was lethal. He was killing us with germ warfare.” They all laughed. Coco stared at the contents of the bag.

“Yeah, but that’s my nigga, though. He always be coming through with da chocolate. It’s that serious shit, yo.” Suddenly, she startled Deedee by yelling, “Pull over! I’ve got to get a Dutch for this. Y’all want something from the store?” Coco slammed the car door and hurried to the store without waiting for a response.

A few minutes later, she strolled back to the car. Once inside, she slit a cigar and dumped the tobacco out the window, and replaced it with weed. Coco deftly rolled and licked it smooth, her tongue snaking up and down the length of the blunt. Deedee stared in awe at Coco’s performance. She had seen her uncle’s attempts to roll a blunt, but never had she seen him execute it as skillfully as Coco.

“Did you guys see that?” Deedee marveled.

Danielle nodded yawningly and Josephine raised her eyebrows. She was acting as if she was shocked, but the crew had witnessed this performance before. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but to Deedee it was new and she looked astonished. Coco lit up and they smoked. Deedee hit the blunt just a little and was nice. Her head swam from the high. And these girls were sharing a forty when I drove up? Deedee wondered. She realized that there was much more to Coco than meet the eyes.

Coco had this effect on everyone who saw her in action, whether she was dancing, singing or just rolling a blunt. She always drew stares of amazement. Her survival was also amazing. Coco hailed from a family of three, including a father she had not seen since she was five years old. Her steady boozing mother was so drunk at times that she couldn’t even remember who Coco was.

“Who da fuck are you?” Rachel Harvey sometimes asked Coco. “What are y’all doing in my place? Y’all got to go. Gon’ git da fuck out, and don’t try to steal nada!” She would scream at Coco and her friends.

It was embarrassing, but Coco never showed the humiliation. Instead, the girls would race to another venue and continue their rehearsal. Coco’s high-energy style of singing and dancing always lightened the mood after one of her mother’s scenes.

Sometimes, Coco relaxed by wandering up to the rooftop spending hours, daydreaming and crying. Sometimes falling asleep up there. After a decapitated body was discovered on the rooftop, Coco stopped using it.

At school, she coped, and received passing grades. But it was a hassle keeping the nosy guidance counselor out of her business.

“How’s your mother doing, Coocoo? I haven’t seen her recently. Is she working?”

Coco would stare, trying to decide whether she disliked this woman more for not being able to pronounce her name correctly, or for being a little too damn nosy. In any case, her reaction would be the same. Coco would force a smile and reply:

“My mother has a job.”

“Well, when is she off?”

“On the weekends,” Coco yelled over her shoulder and hurriedly walked away.

“Coocoo... Coocoo...” Mrs. Martinez would yell back, but Coco would be out of hearing distance. She was on her way to rendezvous with Danielle James and Josephine Murray, Da Crew.

Both girls were recent transfers to the school, and were talented singers and dancers. Before they came, Coco reigned as the high school queen of song and dance. All the trophies were stored at her house.

On the rare occasions when her mother was sober and user friendly, she related tales of a “no-good, singing, traveling man.” Coco decided he must have been her father. Sometimes her mother would produce pictures and wonder out loud if Coco and the man in the photographs shared any resemblance. Maybe there is a likeness, Coco thought, glancing at the old, tattered photos.

“Y’all both got the same lips,” her mother would say teasingly.

It was compassion enough, and Coco shared the loneliness. Singing was Coco’s escape. She fantasized about being there onstage, the audience loving her. One day, wandering through Central Park, Coco was daydreaming about being a pop-star. She got so caught up in her fantasy that she forgot where she was, and the audience was treated to an exclusive performance from Coco. She closed her eyes, and became engulfed with the energy she radiated in her singing and dancing on an imaginary stage. Coco was captivating, riding high and shining like a star.

She lost her mind to an encore and a couple of spins, mingled with a few turns. Coco burst into a verse from I’m coming out. For that moment she was Diana Ross, the boss, and the crowd cheered her on. They were screaming, “Yeah you go girl!” They provded Coco with the strong support she needed.

“You’re gonna be a major star one day, Coco. Keep doing what you do,” an audience member shouted.

“Maybe one day we’ll work together,” a fat, dark-skinned man said. He gave her a business card that read Busta, the talent promoter.

Coco was motivated. She never stopped singing, and one day danced herself into a music video. It was the first time she had received money for her fantasy, and felt good, but it only served to whet her appetite.

Coco first met Danielle and Josephine at that video shoot. Although they had been attending the same school, they were not aware of each other’s existence. Danielle and Josephine were locked into Coco’s vibes after this first meeting. Coco had dreamt of being another Diana Ross, and now she had found her Supremes. In school, the girls hung together, allowing Coco the time to discover the family she had been longing for. The three talented teens formed Da Crew, with Coco at the helm.

Danielle’s mother didn’t mind her daughter being out so much, since she thought Danielle was in the library most of the time. Being more concerned with a marriage on the brink of disaster, she knew nothing of Danielle in the streets, running with the clique.

Josephine’s parents were working professionals, and her family was the closest to what could be called a real family. She just wanted to fit in, so she was in ecstasy since she had hooked up with the other girls. They were contented to see their daughter happy and her parents always allowed her to participate freely in extracurricular activities. She was allowed time for rehearsals, but there was only one stipulation.

“I’m good as long as my school work’s up to date,” Josephine said, whenever the topic of rehearsal schedules was brought up.

The posse rehearsed their routine almost every evening after school and performed on weekends, usually Friday evenings, at different clubs. Each was loyal to the clique that had blossomed right under their families’ noses. The next time Coco spoke to Busta, he had congratulated her after she had won another talent show. He invited her and crew to be a contestant in his own annual talent jump off. It was now officially on for Coco and her girls.

Headlights bounced off the paved streets, causing tiny speckled beads of reflection. The girls made their way past three older women sipping, and standing around losing their souls in the bottle.

Coco gazed out the car window. “Why do these people keep holding on?” she wondered aloud.

“That’s their salvation, drinking, I guess,” Deedee replied.

“They need to just give up and git da fuck off the curb.” Danielle said.

“That’s...that spot right there!” Coco yelled as she changed the subject to something less depressing.

“Yeah...yeah,” Danielle and Josephine yelled as they gazed at the nightclub Genesis.

“Let’s check this scene, yo,” Coco demanded.

“Okay, I hear you. But can I park first?” Deedee asked.

“Yeah, right over there. They’re pulling out,” Coco shouted.

Deedee guided the car with some difficulty into the vacant spot. The teens standing in line turned and stared in the direction of the car.

“Why’s everyone all up in my biz?” Deedee asked loud enough for anyone to hear. No one answered. Da Crew had performed at this club before, so Coco moved toward the front, motioning Da Crew and Deedee to follow. The girls felt like celebrities as they were escorted through the velvet ropes of the VIP entrance into the club.

“Hey yo, check this out. We’ve got some honeys in da house,” an Afro-headed youth exclaimed as he menacingly approached the girls, his hips gyrating and arms above his head.

“What up? What up? Ladies y’all wanna be swinging wit’ Lil’ Long, or what?” He asked. Coco stepped closer to him, pressing four fingertips in his chest.

“We’re gonna swing wit’ you later, Lil’ Long. But for now, just cool it. We’re gonna chill. And here’s a Spearmint, yo. You might need some more, but it’s a start.” She turned to Da Crew. “Why does every stinking-breath wanna get up all on top of me, all up in my face tonight?” Coco asked as she lit another blunt.

“You’re gonna have to put that out,” a club security officer gruffly ordered.

“Okay, okay,” Coco said. She inhaled and then crushed the lit tip under her right boot.

“Bitch, that’s some expensive-ass weave you’re wearing, right?” a handsome thug with braids down to his shoulders asked. He was joking around, but Deedee wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, it’s your mammy’s,” She immediately shot back.

“Ouch,” chorused a small crowd of club hoppers who gathered at the site.

Coco and Da Crew were wearing headgear, so Deedee figured the voice was directed at her. She felt like she had to reply.

“Yo, I’ll slap—”

“Whassup, Deja? Yo chill. This is my friend, Deedee. She’s real down-to-earth once you get to know her,” Coco said. She hoped the situation wouldn’t get physical.

“Well, as long as she recognizes that I’m not here to represent da bullshit. I’m only representing da real. Then we ahight, you feel me, ma?”

“Watch da soundman,” the deejay roared, flipping the script. The music transformed the club into a hip-hop mass.

“Booyakka ... Booyakka ... soundman lick some shots,” the girls yelled in unison jumping and reveling.

Reggae groove transformed the mood of the club into a swirling, bass-heavy, resonating grind. The volume sent a quiver up the spine of even the most relaxed wallflowers. The dance floor rocked as Coco moved toward the bar, not stopping to join the party. Deedee, hot on her heels, finally caught up to her.

“Coco, Coco, I just wanna thank you for what you did back there. That was the second time you saved my—”

“Keep your mouth shut and stop acting like you’ve got bodyguards and there should not be a third time. Un’erstan’?” Coco growled, her nostrils flaring and her brown eyes wide open.

“But—” Deedee’s face wore a baffled expression.

“Nah, no buts, homey,” Coco said. “Just know that these niggas are grimy. They ain’t taking shit off no one, Ahight.”

“Cool, I hear you…”

“You really wanna be cool, buy me a thank-you drink.” Coco drifted toward the bar.

“I can’t do that. I’m a minor.”

“Exactly, save it, yo. You’re right, minor. You ain’t old enough. I’m a go holla at some major peeps.” Coco’s voice trailed off. She whirled off to the bar and came back with a drink in hand.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that stuff?” Deedee asked.

“Okay, okay, so you gave Da Crew and me a twirl in your uncle’s rented car. Now you wanna tell me what to do?” Coco asked without even looking at Deedee. For a moment, Deedee reflected on what exactly she should say. She wanted to say ‘fuckoff, ’ but repressed the thought. Instead she pulled out her cigarettes, offering one to Coco, who quickly took it and lit it. Deedee stared at the cigarette dangling between Coco’s protuding lips.

“You’re not even gonna offer me a light, are you?” Deedee asked.

Coco’s face almost formed a smile, but she spotted Deja and his braids, double fisted making moves toward them and a frown quickly reappeared.

“My bad, yo,” Coco said and gave Deedee a light.

“Ah yeah! Ahight!” Deja shouted, caught up in a partying mood.

He approached the girls clapping his hands. Deja’s eyes were locked on Deedee.

“Yeah yo,” replied Coco, pushing Deedee aside and confronting Deja.

“Yeah Coco, so you wit it now?” Deja asked with a smile.

“Ahight, let’s ketch a wreck, yo,” Coco replied.

Deja grabbed Coco’s hand and pulled her toward the gyrating pile on the dark floor. She was ready for the get down. After the blunt and the brew, Coco’s senses welcomed the groove.

“Time to get busy, yo,” Coco shouted, whisking by Da Crew. The girls turned around in unison, following Coco and Deja to the dance floor. This was their world.

Deedee watched as the trio partied with Deja. Suddenly, it seemed as if they owned the floor. They ruled the dance floor. Coco started moving precise, like a ninja anticipating a blow. The other girls took their cue.

Before Black Moon could Enta da Stage, the girls had the spot rocking and the crowd shouting, “Go Coco, go Coco.”

Da Crew moved in for the kill, but Coco was sharp. She was a queen in this realm and wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m a take a break, yo,” Coco said, leaving the celebration on the dance floor.

She made her way past people twisting, shaking their asses, and rhythmically bopping their heads to the urgings of an excited overly excited deejay.

“Yeah, party people, we’re gonna tear the roof off this mother-sucker tonight and if you feeling alright say all night ...” The party crowd hollered back, “All night.”

“Yeah and you don’t stop. We got playas in da house tonight…”

“I hate when they do that preaching and shit, yo,” Coco said.

“What shit?” Deedee asked. She was still visibly awed by the way Coco had dominated the floor.

“Wow, Coco. You’re really some kinda dancer. Were you always this nice? I wanna…”

“No, the question is, can you shake that thing, Ms. Cool One?” Deja asked, barging into the girls’ conversation.

“Yeah, are you ready for me now?” Lil’ Long asked and grabbed his crotch, hips still in motion, aimed at Coco. It seemed all the boys flocked to the girls. Coco moved to keep things in check.

“Need to play around some more before I get to ya. You look kinda serious, homey,” Coco tossed back at the disgruntled face of the crotch-grabber.

“Ahight, ahight I’m a take you up on that,” Lil’ Long said, nodding.

“Later,” Coco said, heading away from him. “I need some air, yo.”

“What about you?” Deja asked as he swooped down on the defenseless Deedee.

She had let him come too near. Deedee could not back up, and did not want to push him out of her face. The drama from the earlier introduction was still fresh in her mind. His breath was hot. It smelled awful, like burnt body parts mixed with alcohol. Deedee wanted to be cool, be down with the other girls.

“Ahight, let’s dance,” she said, reaching for his hand and directed her thoughts to the dance floor.

He wanted to grind, she kept avoiding contact. They continued dancing, and he was able to lay his hands on her hips. He touched her small waist and breasts. Each time, Deja pretended the contact was incidental. She didn’t push it. Or, paid it no mind and the sounds took her away—the bass-line driving hard, ricocheting from her hips sweeping her body into a pelvic grind. By the second song Deedee had allowed him to grab her ass. She shook it for him and he was pleased as he got up close and personal riding her whirling posterior.

“Alrighty, party people, as we continue on wid that rub-a-dub style…” the voice of the deejay screamed colliding with Deedee’s efforts on the floor.

“I hate those fucking deejays,” she said, mimicking Coco. It was now her exit line. She smiled as she abruptly brought the dance to an end.

“I gotta get some air, yo,” Deedee said as she made her escape from the floor. Deja wore a jilted look.

“You know where to find me,” he laughed, turning and rejoining the celebration on the dance floor. The place now belonged to Josephine and Danielle. They were moving in an encore of Coco’s performance. Da Crew was clearly enjoying themselves.

“Another one?” Deedee asked when she encountered Coco holding a cigarette and glass filled with liquor.

“Another one of what, yo?” Coco shot back with much attitude. She showed contempt for Deedee’s meddling. “Listen,” she continued, adjusting her expression with a crooked smile. “I know my limitations,” she declared, holding the last syllable slightly longer than normal. “I do this all the time. There’s nothing’ new to this. What’s it to you? Don’t sweat me. Can I live, yo?”

“Well, I just don’t think you should have another...”

“Da posse is still tearing shit up,” Coco burped. Deedee stared at Coco’s crooked grin, and then put a cigarette to her lips.

“Yeah, they doing their thing. Gimme a light,” Deedee said, attempting to absorb the situation without sounding sympathetic.

Coco obliged with a light. Her grin had gone awry, clinging to another corner of her mouth.

“The performance, is it... Ah?” Deedee asked awkwardly.

“Is it what?” Coco replied.

“Is it your salvation?” Deedee responded too quickly.

“Never thought about it like that. Never really,” Coco’s answer was cut short by the man on the microphone.

“Yeah party people we’ve really got a fire blazin’ up in da house tonight you hear. I can’t hear you …”

“That deejay...” Da Crew chorused as they walked toward the smoking duet.

“...Talks too muthafuckin’ much!” The four girls announced.

“Save me some shorts,” Josephine requested.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Danielle yelled. “Whew, I’m hot and thirsty.”

“That ain’t nothing new, bitch.” Josephine said.

“Mind your own Bl, bi-yotch.” Danielle answered.

“I seen you bumping an’ all up in Deja’s face.” Coco turned to Deedee and said.

“He’s just trying to push up. Nothing else…” Deedee started to speak but Coco cut her off.

“I’ll tell you the two things what madukes always be running, ‘don’t get friendly too quickly, and don’t trust no man,’” Coco sleepily mumbled. The alcohol had numbed her thoughts, but she was still in charge of Coco. She had been done before but Deedee had no way to know. She stared at Coco and for a moment Deedee felt nothing but pity, then a tinge of nervousness as her eyes met Deja’s stare. Coco saw her reaction.

“Why is he clocking you so hard? What’d ya do to home-boy? He’s got that sick puppy-dog look going on, yo. He’s only trying to catch a new owner. You got him open like Seven-Eleven, girlfriend,” Coco said giddily. She even managed a chuckle.

Deedee stared at Coco. She watched as the alcohol stimulated the meltdown of Coco’s hard edge. It made her friendly and almost childlike.

“This must mean it’s my turn to burn,” the thug that called himself Lil’ Long said as he approached them. Coco grabbed his hand. She motioned to Da Crew. They turned and strutted back to continue their domination of the dance floor. Deedee marveled again at Coco’s moves. She was startled when she felt someone palming her ass.

“Hey,” she said, and whirled around to face Deja. “Chill with that, please.”

“Chill with what, honey?” Deja asked and showed his hands feigning innocence. He was full of fun but Deedee was not in the mood for his humor. “You need to stop acting so stuck up.” Deja said.

“You need to stop trying to cop a feel,” Deedee replied emphatically. “I don’t like that,” she continued. “Most guys will buy a girl a drink and then try to kick it. Maybe that’s what you should be trying to do. Buy me a drink and talk sexy to me or sump’n other than trying to feel on my behind.”

“You’re a spoiled and bossy bitch,” Deja said dejectedly. “That’s because you think you’re all this and that,” he continued, his voice rising and competing with the bass.

“All right, party people. Yeah! Give it up for Coco and Da Crew. Young Ghetto celebs, in da house doing their thingy-thing. Alrighty…”

“Oh shit, oh no he didn’t,” Coco said. She smiled, drunkenly acknowledging the onlookers.

“Let’s get da fuck off this floor,” Josephine said.

“Why? The deejay’s only trying to blow us up. That ain’t such a bad thing,” Danielle countered. The girls followed Coco off the floor anyway.

“You guys can really go!” Deedee said when she caught up to Coco. Da Crew kept walking toward a booth.

“We’ll be back in a few,” Da Crew, Danielle and Josephine said on cue.

“They must’ve seen their boyfriends. Hey, don’t get lost, girlies,” Coco replied.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Deedee asked without warning, surprising herself and Coco. She had figured Coco wouldn’t mind talking a little.

“Nah,” replied Coco effortlessly. Deedee had been right. She delved further.

“Why not? Don’t you want one?” Deedee pried.

“I don’t need one. Men shouldn’t be trusted. See men, they start out as boys. They love to beat up on girls and grow up to be men who take advantage of women. They do that because they think women are weaker. But not me, I’m not gonna be nobody’s house pet, you feel me?” Coco reached for a light and fumbled to get the last cigarette from her pack. Deedee nodded as if she understood. “And boys are no good,” Coco finally declared. She shook her head as if she was shaking her thoughts out. Deedee just didn’t see her pain. She felt it. She thought of reaching out and giving Coco a hug, but decided against it. What difference would a hug make anyway? Deedee reasoned.

“Lemme get some of that stogy,” Josephine said.

She pointed her hands showing nails, tipped and manicured. Coco passed her the burning cigarette. Deedee considered offering another cigarette, but Coco turned and walked away. She moved clumsily under Deedee’s watchful eyes, found an empty chair and plopped down. Either due to the time, or the effect of the alcohol, Coco seemed tired and worn.

“Looking for me?” Deja asked. He was holding two drinks in his hands.

“No, I’m... Yeah, what time do you have?” Deedee answered.

“I have all night and most of the morning. Got to get some shut-eye, know what I mean?”

“I’m talking about the time on your watch, Mr. McNasty—I mean Deja,” Deedee quickly added when she saw Deja’s face folding into a grimace.

“Its three-thirty, bitch,” Deja said, limping away.

“I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. I didn’t...” Deedee yelled apologetically. “Oh well,” she said, hurrying back in Coco’s direction.

Coco’s chair was empty. Where was she? Deedee wondered. Anxiety slowly crept in. Deedee felt uncomfortable. She wanted to leave. Damn! Where are these girls, she nearly said out loud, but checked herself. What a night, meeting Coco and her posse, the gunshots outside the other hangout, and now, feeling stalked by Deja for something she had said. I’m leaving, she told herself.

“Where are you running to, honey? Still looking for me?” Deja asked, turning on the charms.

“I’m looking for my friends, ah, Deja,” she said, using his name correctly.

“Always looking for everyone else but me, huh?” Deja asked.

“They’re in the blunt-smoking section. Over there in the VIP area,” he continued, motioning with a movement of his head.

“Thanks... Thanks a lot,” Deedee said, overplaying the graciousness.

She attempted to turn away, and Deja grabbed her right hand. His grip was strong, her body jerked back from the motion.

“Why do you insist on touching me?” she started to ask. Deja cut her off and shoved a Dutchmaster cigar in her face.

“You’ll need one of these if you’re going over there,” Deja cautioned as he offered Deedee the cigar. “Have blunt, will travel,” he said with a smile.

“No, I’m not into traveling high,” Deedee said and put her fake smile on.

“Bitch!” Deja shouted, unable to control the anguish he felt. “She’s—ah, ah, fuck it,” he said to any clubbies who were close enough to pay attention.

He spun, licked his lips and watched as she moved hurriedly away. Her black sweater clung to her sensuous body, shapely legs crowned by tight, round buttocks. Damn! She’s nice for real, for real, thought Deja. He was enraptured by her graceful walk.

“Listen, I gotta go,” Deedee said, standing next to the table where Coco and some other kids were puffing on a blunt.

“Yeah I’m through my damn self,” Coco declared, getting off her chair.

“This some good weed, yo,” Lil’ Long said and offered the lit blunt to Deedee.

“No thanks, I don’t need that. They let you smoke that on this side?” Deedee asked hesitantly.

“This da VIP section, girlfriend. You do whatever, yo.” Coco walked as if a shoestring was loose. She struggled to gain her balance.

“Coco, are you ahight?” Deedee asked, giving a hand to Coco.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just gimme a second, ahight, I’ll steady myself, thank you.”

Coco needed more than a second. Deedee allowed her the time. She felt like walking away and leaving Coco, but then turned around and put an arm across Coco’s shoulder to steady her walk. Coco offered no resistance and Deedee held her tighter, guiding her through the maze of club kids.

“Where are the other girls? Do you—”

“I heard you,” Coco snarled, she was not used to the friendly treatment. “They ahight, they hooked up with their boyfriends...”

“Oh, they’re not—”

“What are you, some kind of a counselor? They good, yo. Come on, Ms. Harriet Tubman. Lead the way. Take me home,” Coco said as Deedee ushered her toward the ladies room.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotta go. Were you gonna give me a ride back uptown?”

“Sure, if you want me to. I—”

“Yeah, cool,” Coco said as she held the door open for Deedee. She’s real cool, Coco thought as she stared at Deedee’s backside disappearing into a stall. She has a nice shape. Coco pulled down her sagging jeans, revealing colorful boxers.

Deedee waited outside the bathroom for Coco and eventually both girls made their way to the exit. Coco had both hands in her pockets, bopping, staring at the reflections of the faces in the mirrors on the wall. Deedee, meantime, fumbled for the keys to the Mercedes. What if the car isn’t there? she thought, stressing.

“Member where you stash the whip, yo?” Coco asked, catching up with Deedee.

“Somewhere close, I think...” Deedee said.

“Okay, but where, yo?” Coco asked.

“Ah, there. This way,” Deedee said, finding her bearings. She grabbed Coco’s arm and pulled her to the left of the exit door.

“Yep, there it is,” she confirmed, spotting the car, sitting on rims, radiant in the moonlight.

“It’s such a dope whip, yo,” Coco said.

Deedee did not understand, and for the moment she did-n’t see the two figures lurking in the dark.

“What’s a whip?” Deedee asked.

“Some dope shit like this. That’s a whip, yo.”

“What up? What up? Why y’all moving so fast, huh?” A man’s voice shouted.

“Who dat? Is it…”

Coco peered around and felt the blow to her face.

“It’s this, bitch!” the throaty voice came.

A fist crashed the party. Coco reeled and blanked out immediately when her head hit the pavement.

“Where you running to, bitch? Get back here and get in da fucking whip. We wanna test ride da shit,” the man chuckled loudly.

Deedee shuddered as she felt cold steel pressed against the back of her neck.

“I sez git in da car, bitch,” he growled.

Deedee had seen this at the movies, heard of it happening to others. She never imagined it happening to her. Her knees became weak as the sudden demand hit her, and her mind reeled into a world of fear.

“I said get in the muthafuckin’ car, bitch,” he repeated harshly.

He brought the weapon to her face and then pushed the nozzle against her right temple.

“Please,” she begged. “It’s not my car. It’s not mine. I...I.”

“Shut up! Shuddafuckup!”

A second man grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and headed to the driver’s side. He opened the door, got in the car and started the engine. Deedee ran, even though the guy with the gun was still close by. He caught up quickly and used his left hand to slap her face twice. Her cheeks stung. Then he brought the gun to her face. She pleaded with him. Terror engulfed her whole body, but he only seemed to enjoy her reaction.

“Please, please,” Deedee cried.

“What’re you trying to do, bitch? Just act normal and git in da fucking car and you won’t fucking get hurt, bitch.”

Deedee was scared, but she got in the car. She tried to slither to the back but the passenger pulled her onto his lap.

“I want you close. We can fuck around while my man drives,” he threatened.

Deedee did not turn around. She didn’t want to look at his face. Her heartbeat was so loud, she couldn’t think of what to say. She thought she was close enough to reach for the door handle, press on it and jump. Deedee tried.

The man anticipated the move, and as she reached over, he blocked her with a twist of his body. She stared into his smiling face. He was mocking her. The move seemed to have excited him. His face was familiar. He had been inside the club but she was too harried to really think clearly. Where?

The car shot into the middle of traffic. The driver showed his unfamiliarity with the controls.

“A yo, watch where ya going! Turn on some fucking lights!” An angry pedestrian yelled as the car hurtled by wildly.

“What’s up? I thought you say you could drive this bad boy?”

“I’m sayin’ though, I’m not too familiar wid da shit. Gimme time. Why your ass brought da bitch? Put her out,” the driver said as he searched for the headlight switch.

“I brought her to tell your dumb ass where the light switch is. Cutie, tell him how to turn on the lights.”

Deedee’s mouth remained shut. She felt too nauseated to speak.

“Tell him!” The passenger ordered. Deedee managed to point a shaky finger.

“Yeah, yeah, cool,” the driver said flicking the switch.

“This shit can do ‘bout a hun’ed and fitty, yo,” he shouted, getting excited. The car raced toward the highway, piercing the morning mist. Deedee couldn’t believe what was happening. Then she felt his hands touching her body. She quivered as tears rolled down the side of her face.

“Please, please, don’t,” she begged. It didn’t matter. His hand continued to roam. She started to resist, but felt the pressure of a gun. She allowed it to happen, out of fear for her life. The driver was preoccupied, and the car was doing close to ninety by now. His hand roughly groped her breast. She held in the sick feeling of disgust. “Please don’t do that. Stop please, no…” He covered her mouth with the gun.

Where are the damn police? Deedee thought.

It didn’t do much to try and outstare him. All of a sudden she remembered the face. He was one of the guys sharing a smoke earlier with Coco. His smile covered with the gold fronts she’ll never forget.

Deedee felt afraid and started to scream. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and with his other hand he placed the gun’s muzzle against her ear.

“Click,” he said.

Mentally, she was dead. She awoke with him physically on top of her attacking her. The passenger seat was in a reclined position, and her black spandex pants were off. Her black sweater was dangling around her neck. Lil’ Long was prying open her legs with his torso.

She resisted and tried to push him off, but he was strong, and after a couple of minutes of struggling, he mounted her. He slobbered over her body, bit her breasts and raked her thighs. She screamed. He slapped her again and again. Blood trickled from her lips. Deedee sobbed as he viciously thrust himself into her flesh until he exploded. She scratched his face. He slapped her harder.

“Don’t kill da bitch, yo. Lemme get a piece,” the driver shouted excitedly.

The car pulled over to the roadside. Deedee thought the nightmare ride was over. Then the driver snatched her from out the car and slammed her against the hood. He was inside her, raping her on the hood of the Mercedes. When he was spent, he slapped her to the ground and got back in the car. Lil’ Long threw the rest of her clothes at her. Then he fired twice, both shots striking within inches. The explosion produced a fall-out of dirt that settled on Deedee’s tear-soaked face. She was down and not moving, wishing she was dead. Deedee sobbed loudly. Laughter and music came from the Benz as it disappeared into the mist.

How did this all begin? Deedee wondered. Dazed and confused, she passed out from the pain. Her thoughts ceased.

Meanwhile, outside the club, Coco gathered herself. She touched her nose. Blood appeared on her fingers, and her eyes stung.

“Those muthafuckas. Fucking bastards,” she thought aloud as she pulled off her headwear and dabbed it at her nose. The white do-rag was now stained red. She headed back to the club. Her head was pounding from the blow. The music from the club only served to exacerbate the pain. She went past the entrance and straight to the ladies room where she washed the cloth and stared back at her bloodshot reflection.

After she left the restroom, she went to the pay phone and paged her girls. They responded in a flash, and the three girls left the club before saying anything. Once outside, they walked a few feet away from the entrance. Coco held the headwear to her throbbing nose, hiding the bruise.

“Coco you’re letting your dreads fly. What’s up?” Josephine asked.

“This whazzup.” Coco removed the blood-soaked wrap from her face. “Some niggas mush me an’ jack da shit, yo. They must’ve snatched up honey too, cuz I ain’t seen her since. Y’all seen her back in here?”

“Nah we were way up in da VIP area. She wasn’t back there.” Danielle said.

“Oh shit! Oh fucking shit. They didn’t!” Coco yelled as Da Crew stood in amazement.

“Who did it? You know?” Josephine asked.

“I didn’t really see who they were, yo. But the voice sounded kinda familiar. It was like… did any of you see Lil’ Long leave?”

“Coco, you know we were both all the way in da back booths. We couldn’t see them. They could a left anytime, yo.”

“Word,” Coco said nodding her throbbing head in agreement.

“All she wanted to do was drop me at da rest, yo. That’s it. That shit is fucked up.” Coco searched for cigarettes. There were none. Her head throbbed. She wondered about Deedee. The thought made her whole body shudder. Then Josephine said it. Maybe Da Crew was thinking it, but nobody wanted to say it.

“We’ve got to call five-o, yo.” The words hung for awhile. Then the discussion began.

“Now, ya know them muthafuckas ain’t gonna do shit,” Coco said.

“I think we should call the cops,” Danielle said.

“Ahight,” Coco said. The girls walked to the phone on the corner.

“Police, 911...”

“Yo, some guys just mugged some girls and stole a car. They kidnapped one of the girls. They had guns an’ all and they were shooting at everybody. It’s crazy out here. Send your baddest peoples out here.”

“Slow down, Miss. Where are you calling from?”

“We’re at the corner of 116th and 1st. Send the baddest cops.” Click. The girls hung up and sauntered away from the pay-phone.

“I’m out. Y’all stay and talk wit’ da cops. I gotta take care of my nose, yo.”

“Yo, Coco, wait up. You know what happened. Come on, you gotta stay.” Josephine pleaded.

“Ahight, I’ll stay. But shit’s not gonna be solved by talking all night wit’ five-oh. We don’t even know if she stole da shit or if she had her license, yo.” Coco said.

“Well, she said her uncle—” Danielle began to say but Coco cut her off.

“Her damn uncle could’ve stolen that shit,” Coco said. The sirens sounded and the police arrived in a swarm. They came four cars deep, totaling nine officers. The cars moved slowly, red lights flashing as the dawn echoed an ominous air outside the club. Members of the baggy-clothes generation were still haunting their favorite hangout. The officers got out of their patrol cars and began to scrutinize the kids. What were they looking for? These kids didn’t know. Each group gave a negative response to the police inquiries.

The much quieter club-goers filed by the officers in a hasty urban exit, oblivious of whatever had taken place outside the club. Suddenly, the officers saw the three girls standing under a broken-down lamppost.

“Here they come, the city’s finest tin badges,” Danielle opined.

“Did any of you happen to hear any gunshots being fired? Or have you seen anything unusual?” An officer asked.

“I think it all happened over there,” Josephine said and pointed to where they thought the Benz was parked. “Some kids jacked this girl and her car, and they took off, heading that way.” Josephine pointed the officers to where the car-jackers were last seen.

“Did you know the girl? Her name?” Another officer asked.

“Well, she—” Josephine started.

“Nah, not really,” Coco interjected. “That’s all we know.”

“Your nose looks bad. What happened?” The second officer asked, looking directly at Coco.

“A fight, yo. Someone messing ‘round wit’ my man, you know. Gotta defend what’s mine.” Coco said.

“It’s a tough world, young lady. Did any of you happen to see any faces, or anything that may help to identify someone?” The officer asked.

“A black Benz. A nice whip,” Danielle said. Her voice trailed off.

“That’s it?” The officer asked. “Is that all you people know?”

“Yeah, that’s it. They jacked her right over there,” Josephine said.

“They?” The first officer asked zooming in on Josephine.

“How many were there?” He questioned with excitement in his voice. “Two, three, four? How many?” He was almost shouting.

“There were two of them,” Coco said sternly.

“And they kidnapped a girl,” Josephine cried. “That’s all we know.”

“Well, stay here, I’m gonna get an ambulance.” An officer commanded.

“Can you describe the girl? What was she wearing?”

“Black spandex and a black sweater,” Danielle replied.

“Anything else?” The officer mumbled, and proceeded to put in the call for an ambulance.

“Just a black girl in black with a black car,” Coco said sarcastically.

“That’s all we know,” Josephine said. The officers huddled. The senior guy returned.

“Stay out of fights,” he said directly to Coco. The rest of you best be getting home.” Sirens pierced the air. The ambulance arrived. Coco was treated by the emergency medical technicians. When she alighted from the ambulance, Da Crew ran to meet her.

“Well, it’s not broken, is it?” Josephine asked.

“No. Takes more than a little punch from a sucker to break something here, kid,” Coco bragged. The girls embraced. This was the first time all three had shown any emotion, other than in their passion for singing. They hugged, and each thought about Deedee. Oneness enveloped the group, which came through in the tenderness of the moment. Coco, still a little woozy from the alcohol and the blow to her nose, was now able to speak.

“Wonder what’s up wit’ Dee. I hope she’s ahight.”

“Yeah, I hope she’s okay,” Danielle added.

“She was only looking out for me. I owe her some kinda due, ya know?” Coco searched for corroboration. The idea was still overwhelming to her. She had just met Deedee, didn’t even know her last name, and was already feeling connected. “Deedee was looking out, yo,” she said, quickly summing up the moment.

“Y’all could stay at my place. My parents won’t mind,” Josephine said. She did not look directly at her, but Coco felt the last part was meant for her. After all, her mother would probably be drunk and would curse up a storm had they gone there. Josephine understood. And besides, she had her own room, and her home was always clean.

“I got some loot. Let’s catch a cab, yo,” Coco said.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Da Crew agreed. They hailed a cab, and it stopped. The girls looked at each other with surprise.

“Aw shit!” Danielle said. “This must be some kinda omen or something. Strange things happen in threes, and this taxi stopping for us makes two. No more car rides for the weekend, y’all.” The girls ran to the cab.

“A hundred and twelfth and Lenox,” said Josephine. The three girls huddled in the back seat of the taxi. The driver hesitated.

“What’s the problem?” Josephine asked. She repeated the address. The driver glanced nervously at the rear-view mirror.

“Aw, c’mon. We ain’t trying to jack your ass. See, we got loot,” Coco said. She showed the driver a couple of ten-dollar bills.

“See money. Now drive,” Danielle ordered.

“Yeah, let’s go already,” Josephine screamed.

“Alright,” the cab driver said. “Now I drive.”

“Think we gonna disrespect your livelihood, yo, Mr. Cabbie?”

“We should,” Danielle said. “Take his loot and all. Straight jacking.”

“Will you cut that out, Dani. Hello, we are trying to get somewhere here,” Josephine said. “She’s sorry, Mr. Cabbie.”

The car started moving, but the driver was still a bit uneasy. He kept glancing back as if he expected something. Nothing happened. The girls remained quiet.

“In my country people are not so disrespectful. They respect life and property. Americans, have no regard for either, especially Blacks and Latinos.”

“Ahight, ahight be easy. Watch what you’re saying or I’ll have to let my girl Dani, jack your ass,” Josephine said.

“That’s exactly what happened to a girl earlier. It’s not your fault you’ve been brought up in a violent world…”

The taxi driver’s voice crackled through the tension in the air. The girls sat glowering in the backseat. Before they had playfully heeded what he was saying. Now he had their full attention.

“Uh, what did you say?” Coco asked sounding annoyed.

“Oh I said you’ve been raised in violence.” The taxi driver said.

“Nah, nah, before all that, you mentioned something about a girl,” Coco said.

“Oh yeah, I said that on the news someone call the police they saw a girl along Route eighty-seven? It was over the radio.” There was a deadly silence as the girls held their breath.

Coco grabbed her bandaged nose as her heart sunk. It had been on her mind since she had recovered from the punch in the face. Everything seemed to hurt a little more as the driver continued with the second-hand news.

“She was apparently raped,” the driver informed his passengers.

“Wait up. What girl?” Coco heard the others asking.

“Found her where? Is she dead? Ah man, damn!” Things became a blur to Coco.

“They fucking did her, those muthafuckas,” Danielle cried in anguish.

Coco winced from the pain. She sat erect, her back slightly arched, and held her nose. No sound came. She had just met Deedee, but the pain she felt was deep. Her head started to pound again. This was real bad. They had jacked her and the car. Why didn’t they just take the car? Coco rewound the memory of the voices outside the club prior to her getting hit. She tried to mentally sketch the faces with the voices. Her head hurt. She stopped.

“Is ... the girl dead?” Josephine asked.

“Nah, she’s alive,” the driver said. The girls breathed a collective sigh of relief. “She was taken to some hospital,” the driver continued. Hope returned. The girls held one another’s hands tighter. “She was badly beaten and raped. She’s the niece of Eric Ascot, some famous music producer.”

Eric Ascot! That’s her uncle, thought Coco. The girls looked wide-eyed at each other. The mention of Eric Ascot’s relationship to Deedee was a big surprise to them. Eric Ascot was one of the most popular producers in the music industry.

“Those muthas, whoo! I don’t believe…” Coco exclaimed.

“I don’t believe that shit. But that’s city life for ya...man,” Josephine said as she stared straight ahead. “That’s why my dad wants to leave the city.”

“Your dad’s a player, Jo. That’s why he wants to leave the city.”

“They fucking did her.” The words were so final that they made the air go dead inside the taxi. The ride continued in virtual silence. Nothing said until they reached the building where Josephine and her parents lived. Coco paid the fare, and the girls walked to the entrance of the huge building.

“Dammit. I don’t have any cigarettes,” Coco said after searching the pockets of her oversized jeans.

“We could get some stoges off my parents,” Josephine said.

She opened the door and the girls walked in. Coco gave an excuse for not calling home. She knew her mother would be asleep or drunk, probably both. Danielle called her mother. Josephine led the way to her room, and the girls followed in silence. Once inside the room, Josephine turned the television on. All three girls plopped down on the small bed. Josephine sprang up and tossed the remote to Coco, who began to scan the channels.

“Nothing but reruns,” Danielle said. Coco continued to channel surf. Talk shows and religious programs. “Misty and overcast,” the weatherman reported.

Josephine left the room and reappeared ten minutes later with milk, soda, water, cookies and cigarettes. Coco helped herself to a cigarette and soda. She lit up and took a drag.

“This was a fucked-up evening, yo!” she proclaimed, her thoughts disappearing in the cloud as she reminisced over the still-unsettling events. The girls sat around, nodding their heads in agreement.

“Yep,” Danielle finally said. “This was more a fright night than any thriller could bring.”

“Shit’s foul,” Coco said, and leaned back, closing her eyes.

The room seemed to grow smaller. Josephine had always liked to get away to this space. When she closed the door all the world’s trouble stayed on the other side—except for today. The dawn had already dragged something sinister across the threshold of her room.